“Perhaps she should spend some time with me then.” The woman reached up and stroked Makala’s jawline with a long-nailed index finger. “You know how much I enjoy getting to know newcomers… peeling away their outer layers to discover what secrets lie hidden underneath.”
As Jarlain stroked Makala’s jaw, Makala felt a sudden surge of fear. Her breathing came in short, ragged gasps.
Onkar chuckled. “You mean we know how jealous you get whenever the captain shows an interest in anyone but you. The more you learn about her, the better you’ll be able to compete with her, yes?”
Jarlain’s eyes flashed, and she removed her hand from Makala’s face. The physical contact was broken; the fear that had gripped Makala drained away, leaving her shaky and weak.
“Watch you tongue, Onkar. You may be commander of the Black Fleet, but I am the mistress of Grimwall!”
Before Onkar could reply, Erdis Cai interrupted, his voice cold as winter frost. “You both are who I say you are. No more, no less.”
Jarlain and Onkar exchanged hate-filled looks before bowing to Erdis Cai.
“My most sincere apologies, my lord,” Jarlain said, though in a tone that made it clear she wasn’t sorry in the slightest.
“And mine,” Onkar said. “I’ll keep quiet if the ‘Mistress of Grimwall’ will.”
Jarlain glared at Onkar but didn’t take his bait.
Still unsettled from the lingering emotional traces of the sudden fear she’d experienced. Makala looked to Erdis Cai to see how the man felt about this exchange between his underlings. If she were to have any hope of escaping Grimwall, it would be because of what she learned about the place and those who ruled here. She knew, as Emon Gorsedd had taught all his, that knowledge was the ultimate weapon.
Erdis Cai’s face might well have been carved from polished ivory for all the expression it showed. Makala sensed no anger in him, not even simple irritation. It was as if the man he’d seemed to be a moment ago had been but a disguise, one that he’d allowed to slip, revealing the true face underneath. It was as emotionless and cold as a reptile’s face, inhuman and uncaring-the face of a being to whom the difference between life and death was so minor as to be meaningless, a being who saw others simply as either prey or not-prey.
Makala knew which she preferred to be.
Then, just as fast as it had been discarded, the disguise was back in place once more, and Erdis Cai smiled like a tolerant father.
“That’s enough, you two. We don’t want to make a bad first impression on our guest, do we?”
Both Onkar and Jarlain nodded, looking only slightly chastened.
Makala was beginning to feel the first faint stirrings of hope. If there was conflict between the three of them, then perhaps if she were clever enough, she might find a way to exploit it for her own advantage.
“Jarlain, since you’re so eager to get to know Makala, why don’t you take charge of her for a time?” Erdis Cai said. “See she freshens up, eats, and is provided with new clothing. See also that she gets some rest. Bring her to me again after sunset. I would like to… talk with her further.”
Without saying farewell to either Onkar or Jarlain or giving Makala another look, Erdis Cai turned and strode off, making his way easily through the mounds of ancient artifacts, precious treasure, and arcane junk that crammed the cavern. Within moments the shadowy gloom of the cavern had swallowed him and he was lost to Makala’s vision. Most of her was relieved to see him go, but part of her, the part that still longed for her dark spirit, wished he had stayed.
“Come, girl. You heard the master.”
Jarlain grabbed Makala’s wrist, and the woman nearly panicked, recalling the horrendous fear that had gripped her previously, but this time Jarlain’s touch didn’t spark any reaction within Makala other than disgust.
Jarlain led Makala out of the cavern, Onkar following close behind. Once they had crossed the threshold, the metal doors swung shut and the lock engaged with a soft click. Back in the corridor once more, Jarlain turned to Onkar.
“As for you, Commander, go do whatever it is you do when you’re not at sea.”
Onkar glared and his hands twitched, as if he were considering wrapping them around Jarlain’s neck and squeezing until her pale white face turned purple-black, but he made no move to attack the woman.
“I suppose I’ll go check on the new prisoners before I turn in.” He looked at Makala. “Have a pleasant day.”
The vampire headed down the corridor leaving Makala alone with Jarlain.
“Let’s us two girls go get acquainted, shall we?” Jarlain squeezed Makala’s wrist in a grip just short of being painful, and Makala offered no resisted as Jarlain escorted her down the corridor.
As the metal doors shut, the green fire burning in the braziers throughout the cavern slowly dimmed until it was gone, leaving behind only the darkness. Erdis Cai strolled through the cluttered maze of his possessions, not needing any illumination to make his way. Even if he didn’t have a vampire’s eyes, even if he were still mortal, so well did he know the position of every item in the cavern that he could have gone blindfolded and still not have bumped into anything or gotten lost. He’d spent a great deal of his time in here during the last few years, too much of it, perhaps. He’d even taken to resting here during the daylight hours, something he knew Jarlain didn’t approve of. She didn’t think it was “healthy,” whatever that meant.
He paused for a moment and stretched out his senses. Dawn would be coming soon, and though no light could penetrate the tons of rock that lay between him and the sky, nevertheless he would be forced to rest. It was one of the limitations of undeath, but he didn’t mind. The power he possessed was far greater than anything he had known as a mortal man, and it was well worth whatever minor inconveniences accompanied it.
He continued touring his collection, occasionally reaching out to touch this or that object, as if by doing so he might relive the adventure during which it had been acquired. Though the memories came, they were empty, hollow, unsatisfying, but then Erdis Cai had never been one to settle for past glories. He’d always searched for the next destination, the next challenge… always looking for something but never quite finding it, until, that is, the day he and his crew had anchored offshore of a certain island in the far frozen north where they’d discovered a castle and what dwelled within its cold, dark halls. Erdis Cai had found what he’d truly been searching for that day, or perhaps, he mused, it had found him. Whichever the case, Erdis Cai had, like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, become something much greater than he’d ever imagined.
If that were so, why did he hold onto all these things? Why did he spend so much time among them while his fleet, under Onkar’s command, sailed the Principalities, working to make the final preparations for their next adventure, the one destined to be the greatest of them all?
He knew how Jarlain would answer that question, for she had spoken to him on the subject numerous times before.
You’re in your eighties, Erdis. You’re coming to the end of what would’ve been your natural life span just as you’re about to see the fulfillment of a plan you’ve worked to bring to fruition for the last forty years. It’s only natural that you should spend some time in contemplation and self-reflection.
Perhaps she was right. Jarlain possessed great knowledge and insight into the mysterious and often baffling ways of the mind. Certainly she had infinitely more understanding than he-who, at heart, was still just a simple sailor-would ever have.
Lately he’d begun to fear that something else was at work here, something darker and more complex than the simple melancholy of an old man. He thought Jarlain had gotten it right when she’d first pointed out that he was, at least in terms of years, at the end of his human life. More and more often it felt like the personality that called itself Erdis Cai, the man who had once been one of the greatest mortal sailors ever to ply the seas, was dwindling away, eroding, shedding pieces of itself, like a calving iceberg, and in its place remained only a cold, fathomless darkness, like the uncaring ebon depths of the most frigid sea. Forty years ago, his body had died and been reborn, but now it seemed his very self was dying, and what new being would arise from its ashes, he couldn’t guess.
He grew tired of this brooding. He would just have to trust to the grand darkness that had transformed him so long ago. He pressed his hand against the crimson symbol on his breastplate-a symbol known as the Mark of
