The Walrus and the Warwolf

Tor to destruction in a war which has severely weakened Stokos. Menator, in the fullness of time, will obviously launch another invasion on the war-weakened island of Stokos – but with no need to share the rule of the place with Tor once it has been conquered.

Drake will see, then, that Tor has been suckered – the ogre king has done Lord Menator's dirty work for him, gaining nothing in the process.

Drake will meet with Jon Disaster, who will by then have come to Runcorn as a spy for pirates planning a raid on the place. Disaster will tell Drake that his brother Heth is still missing; that Lord Menator has put a price on the head of King Tor, and on the head of Drake Douay. Drake will thus learn that Menator truly does fear him as a potential rival to the throne of Stokos.Drake will ask:

'What of Walrus and Warwolf? What do they say of this price put on my head?' And Jon Disaster will answer:

'They cannot oppose Menator, for so many of their best men are dead that their own power has come close to nil. They work on ship for Abousir Belench, and count themselves lucky to have the berth.'

Drake will be shaken and shocked. He will realize his hopes and dreams have been destroyed. No hope of returning to the Teeth! No hope of linking up with King Tor, whose whereabouts are unknown. No hope of marrying Tor's daughter for an easy throne. He will have to shift for himself in the cruel and friendless world.But at least he will have Zanya Kliedervaust at his side.Anyway: all that lies in the future.

For the moment, it is evening at the southern border of Estar, a desolate place where a ruinous flame trench reaches for three thousand paces between mountain cliffs and the sea.

To the sea Drake walks, alone, bearing a handful of ashes. It is time. In the season of death, he must honour the memory of the dead.

Alone in the cold grey evening, alone by the tumultuous seas, he treasures the ash in his hands while he lists the dead.

First the weapons muqaddam, whose name he never learnt. To him he owes the gift of weapons. Quin Baltu, the foul-mouthed muscle-man, who spoke for him in the face of the Warwolf's wrath. As did Harly Burpskin, who was whipped raw for his pains.

They have gone down into the darkness, as we, too, in our turn, will go down into the darkness.Remember them.

Drake names Shewel Lokenshield, who hit him in the face once with a dead fish, but who shared good beer with him in Narba in the days when he could still get drunk. Aye. As did Lee Dix, Goth Sox and Hewlet Mapleskin. All good men. All killed in the Warwolf's battle with sea serpents in the Penvash Channel.We could have been closer. Given time.

Life is so short! Drake remembers the bones he saw in the Wishing Tower in the land of Ling, back in the long-ago days when life was young and simple.

And I, in time, will make bones.

Meanwhile, he says a parting for poor old Tiki Slooze, and for Salaman Meerkat.

I hardly knew you. Yet you shared food in the time for sharing. Aye. I'd not have thought it. But don't hold that against me.

Cold wind. The louring sky. Ashes in his hands.

Remember, now. Pru Chalance. Killed and eaten by northern barbarians.

A stranger. Man, that's weird. So close to so many, yet knowing them not.

So what can be said for Pru Chalance? That he lived. He breathed. He dared his chance. As did Ching Quail. And Jez Glane, yes, and Raggage Pouch. And Peg Zuzilman – taken by a centipede, and surely dead. A terrible way to die.But it's never easy.

Live hard, die hard. I miss you all. The weapons muqaddam most. A man amongst men. And he spoke for me too, yes, when Arabin was hot for murder.

Once more Drake runs through the names, searching for those he's missed. Then he treasures the ashes to the waters.Be well.

None of those pirates who died would have expected anyone to weep for them, yet, here by the shores of the Central Ocean, Drake does weep for them. And for his sister, who cut her throat when she found herself dying from blue leprosy. He understands her life better now, and realizes how rough she had it. He weeps, too, for himself – for do we not all, in the end, go down into that darkness?

And he weeps as well for the golden kings and their tumultuous empires, for the beauty of women and the laughter of the young, and for the valour of the suns themselves which burn burn and burn, down through the generations, though they too go down in the end to the darkness.

Last, he learns his grief for the two nameless Collosnon warriors he murdered in a tent by the shores of the island Chag-jalak, far away in the waters of the North Strait.

You or me. That's how it was. I don't apologize. But forgive me.

The wind braces him as he walks back to the ruinous fort on the border. And rain has washed the tears from his face by the time he reaches the fireside. Where Zanya is waiting.

Tonight. At last.Lips to be lips.Flesh to be flesh.Two to be one.Silence.Fadeout.Night.

40

The Way of Arabin: religion created by Arabin lol Arabin (formerly Dreldragon Drakedon Douay), drawing inspiration from the mysticism of Gouda Muck, the delights of the temple of the Demon Hagon, tales (some taller than others) about the Orgy God of the Ebrell Islands, and the Inner Principles of the Old Science (as taught to apprentice swordsmiths on Stokos).

The Book of Witness

Vision the First

And it came to pass that in the winter of Khmar 19, Arabin lol Arabin came down out of the north and made his abode in Runcorn.

With him was no money btft a woman, and his wit also.

And it happened that Arabin spent much time in dives of low repute where there was much drinking, and a muchness also of gambling at dice-chess.

And he enjoyed winnings of a size that other men marvelled at.

And at midwinter he opened his own establishment, saying unto the multitude, come, for the place is lit with candles unto cockcrow.

The wine is unwatered and the gin likewise, the girls are clean and the cards unmarked, yea, and spotless.

7 And the crowds were great about his door.

Then it happened that the City Fathers were exceedingly wroth, and sent certain men to his gates.

And they asked of him, 'Is there gambling and drinking and whoring within?'

And he answered unto them, thinking the Truth would serve him, 'There is the practical Worship of things that are good.'

And one replied, 'Verily verily I say unto you, thou hast not a liquor licence, therefore we can close you down.'

And another said that yea, verily, he had not rendered up to the City Corporation business taxes three years in advance.

And many were their accusations, yea, so that there is no numbering of them.

Then Arabin was also wroth, and he hardened his fingers to fists against them.

But his woman said, 'Hush dearest treasure-snake, there is Another Way.'

Then she, whose name was Zanya, said unto the Persecutors: 'Return you tomorrow at noon, and all shall be Answered.'

And their understanding of this was improved when Arabin began to place boot to the ends that were behind them.

And the Persecutors withdrew, yet returned at noon the next day.