Chapter I
The Cost of Loyalty
The wolf Mavik sat alone, the only occupant in the left corner of the tavern Hedak. His head was raised, his eyes alert, dancing from creature to creature as the remaining inhabitants-an odd conglomerate of sea-bound vermin-cackled and choked on their brimming tankards of Eel lager and Spinecrab whiskey while roaring out tall-tales of gargantuan monsters inhabiting the farthest reaches of the oceans. Mavik's ears bounced once, after hearing a severely intoxicated turtle spout a huge monologue concerning the hidden atoll of Alaesia-but after a few minutes of half- interested listening, the wolf knew the shellback knew nothing of what he was rambling about. Mavik had been there, . . . long before he sat at this uncomfortable table. Alaesia wasn't renowned for it's beautiful landscape; instead, the violent volcano erupted often enough to destroy any life that happened upon its legendary shores. Rumor from a pair of twin albino ferrets had brought Mavik to Alaesia in search of the Vindago Crag, a dark jewel overflowing with malevolent power. None had ever seen the jewel, but the ancients' writings depicted an object of reality-something to be found.
"Y'look busy, mate," a strange ferret said, tossing a tightly bound bag of traveling items onto the floor next to Mavik. The wolf blinked once, slowly, and moved only his eyes towards the stranger.
"Yet you bother me. Why?"
"Y'seem t'be the type I'm lookin' for, graypelt."
A spark flew across the wolf's eyes, and their color deepened. The ferret had only time to smirk as the wolf buried the curved blade of his exotic stiletto into his paw, nailing it to the dirty table below. The crash of the blow roared like a clap of thunder, and all conversations in the tavern halted. The wolf growled severely.
"The last breath you'll ever take will be the one to repeat the slur!" he barked, jerking the blade from the wounded hand with a twist of his wrist. With a fold of his hand, the stiletto returned to its resting spot, buried deep within the dark confines of the traveling cloak he wore wrapped about his brawny frame.
"Your insolence is impressive," the ferret responded, tying a faded bandana around the bleeding gash. "Though your skills 'n speed seem t'be more th'n what we'll need."
Mavik raised a puzzled eyebrow, yet focused on the other inhabitants, who'd returned to their feasting and hollering. The ferret's eyes grew wider, and he cleared his throat as he continued.
"We, a'course, bein' the ship 'n crew of the Agony-forty rats, fifteen foxes, three vixens, eleven stoats, and twenty ferrets, not countin' m'self, of course." When the wolf continued to remain uninterested, the ferret thrust out his chest, chuckling. "Why, I'm Captain Citius Vogrel Gadare, the vilest mammal t'ever tempt the waters!"
Mavik seized Gadare's bleeding paw, crushing the wounded limb until the ferret gasped. He leaned forwards menacingly, his red eyes burning in the hot candlelight.
"Tell me something I want to hear, and I'll spare your neck," he snarled.
The tavern suddenly teamed with life, as creatures large and small whirled towards Mavik, their crude weapons drawn, faces twisted in sneers and smirks. Gadare chuckled, his forehead covered in beads of sweat.
"Release my paw, graypelt."
Mavik's eyes flashed in rage. The stiletto emerged from its hiding spot, intent on burying itself within the vermin's heart. A well-aimed blade deflected the knife at the last possible moment, the stiletto tearing a single hair from Gadare's chest. The wolf's right eye sought out the perpetrator responsible for sparing the ferret's life. A female ferret, dressed in dark navy garb, winked at him with a yellow eye. Her long, auburn hair flowed down her left shoulder, halting just above the dip of her neck like a crimson wave. A flash of movement to his left caused Mavik to whirl about again to see an odd, muscled creature wrench the blade from his hand and bury it into the table between his fingers.
"Drop ze paw, herr volf, or lose your own!" the creature barked.
Mavik uncurled his massive fingers from about the sea captain's broken paw, cocking his head to the side as he viewed the strange animal amid the blades pointed towards him.
"I see you've taken interest in Kerjack," Gadare spoke, as an elderly stoat saw to healing and re-bandaging the broken paw. "Not many creatures have seen the likes a' him, . . . nor should you, I suppose."
"Ve raccoons alvays frighten our enemies," Kerjack uttered, his black eyes darting to and fro behind the ebony mask of dark fur surrounding them. He leaned in close to Mavik's face, baring his stained teeth. "Und you are quite frightened."
"No," Mavik said calmly, "I've never seen one of your kind alive before." With a quick thrust of his sinewy legs, Mavik sent Kerjack sprawling across the tavern, overturning tables, and whacking the contents free of their goblets. An enormous roar of laughter bellowed from the other diners, many of whom saluted Mavik with their tankards and berated the fallen raccoon. Mavik grinned at the fallen Kerjack, but halted when he felt the prick of a blade tip rest against his neck. The female ferret nodded towards the wolf.
"Slay 'em here, Cap'n?" she asked in a raspy voice, eyeing Mavik evilly.
"No, Raspira," Gadare returned, lowering her blade with his good paw. "Give me a moment with 'im." The remaining creatures backed away a few paces, weapons still drawn. Gadare reset the chair Mavik had knocked over, straddling it as he faced the wolf.
"Listen t' my words," he continued. "I am at war with an opponent of mine- he calls 'imself Gabool the Wild. His murderous band killed 'undreds of our number; we are all that's left. I am raisin' an army t' rival and destroy his own. I need a creature of y'-caliber, shall we say-t' help me."
Mavik downed the last murky contents of his chipped mug, pushing away from the table and rising on his feet. "I'm not interested," he sneered.
"P'haps this'll 'elp, maybe?" Gadare tossed a small, rough bag onto the table before the wolf. He snatched it quickly, jerking the chord from the top and pouring its contents into his palm. Twelve gold florin greeted his eyes; each was stamped with a fang and dagger, and the phrase audaces fortuna iuvat-fortune helps the bold. Mavik shook them in his hand, testing their weight, before returning them to the bag and slipping it between the folds in his cloak. He turned back to Gadare, an evil smile twisting across his maw.
"I expect a score of these each season," he replied.
"A hefty sum!" Raspira snarled, her hand gripping the hilt of her blade.
"It'll be there," Gadare nodded. "Welcome t' th' Agony, mate! We'll need a name for you, of course-"
"They refer to me as Mavik."
"A'course, Mavik," Gadare nodded, smiling. He abruptly struck the wolf twice across the face, drawing a fresh line of blood from the wolf's nose. He hovered a finger from his good paw in front of his face, speaking in a serious tone. "That's for hittin' m' first mate, an' for m'paw. Don' ever touch me again, graypelt." He turned and nodded to Raspira. "Load 'em aboard, sister. We depart at dusk."
Mavik licked off the blood running from his nose, his eyes fixed on the ferret captain as his party left the tavern. A quick, painless death would not suffice for Citius Vogrel Gadare . . . .
The Cost of Loyalty
The wolf Mavik sat alone, the only occupant in the left corner of the tavern Hedak. His head was raised, his eyes alert, dancing from creature to creature as the remaining inhabitants-an odd conglomerate of sea-bound vermin-cackled and choked on their brimming tankards of Eel lager and Spinecrab whiskey while roaring out tall-tales of gargantuan monsters inhabiting the farthest reaches of the oceans. Mavik's ears bounced once, after hearing a severely intoxicated turtle spout a huge monologue concerning the hidden atoll of Alaesia-but after a few minutes of half- interested listening, the wolf knew the shellback knew nothing of what he was rambling about. Mavik had been there, . . . long before he sat at this uncomfortable table. Alaesia wasn't renowned for it's beautiful landscape; instead, the violent volcano erupted often enough to destroy any life that happened upon its legendary shores. Rumor from a pair of twin albino ferrets had brought Mavik to Alaesia in search of the Vindago Crag, a dark jewel overflowing with malevolent power. None had ever seen the jewel, but the ancients' writings depicted an object of reality-something to be found.
"Y'look busy, mate," a strange ferret said, tossing a tightly bound bag of traveling items onto the floor next to Mavik. The wolf blinked once, slowly, and moved only his eyes towards the stranger.
"Yet you bother me. Why?"
"Y'seem t'be the type I'm lookin' for, graypelt."
A spark flew across the wolf's eyes, and their color deepened. The ferret had only time to smirk as the wolf buried the curved blade of his exotic stiletto into his paw, nailing it to the dirty table below. The crash of the blow roared like a clap of thunder, and all conversations in the tavern halted. The wolf growled severely.
"The last breath you'll ever take will be the one to repeat the slur!" he barked, jerking the blade from the wounded hand with a twist of his wrist. With a fold of his hand, the stiletto returned to its resting spot, buried deep within the dark confines of the traveling cloak he wore wrapped about his brawny frame.
"Your insolence is impressive," the ferret responded, tying a faded bandana around the bleeding gash. "Though your skills 'n speed seem t'be more th'n what we'll need."
Mavik raised a puzzled eyebrow, yet focused on the other inhabitants, who'd returned to their feasting and hollering. The ferret's eyes grew wider, and he cleared his throat as he continued.
"We, a'course, bein' the ship 'n crew of the Agony-forty rats, fifteen foxes, three vixens, eleven stoats, and twenty ferrets, not countin' m'self, of course." When the wolf continued to remain uninterested, the ferret thrust out his chest, chuckling. "Why, I'm Captain Citius Vogrel Gadare, the vilest mammal t'ever tempt the waters!"
Mavik seized Gadare's bleeding paw, crushing the wounded limb until the ferret gasped. He leaned forwards menacingly, his red eyes burning in the hot candlelight.
"Tell me something I want to hear, and I'll spare your neck," he snarled.
The tavern suddenly teamed with life, as creatures large and small whirled towards Mavik, their crude weapons drawn, faces twisted in sneers and smirks. Gadare chuckled, his forehead covered in beads of sweat.
"Release my paw, graypelt."
Mavik's eyes flashed in rage. The stiletto emerged from its hiding spot, intent on burying itself within the vermin's heart. A well-aimed blade deflected the knife at the last possible moment, the stiletto tearing a single hair from Gadare's chest. The wolf's right eye sought out the perpetrator responsible for sparing the ferret's life. A female ferret, dressed in dark navy garb, winked at him with a yellow eye. Her long, auburn hair flowed down her left shoulder, halting just above the dip of her neck like a crimson wave. A flash of movement to his left caused Mavik to whirl about again to see an odd, muscled creature wrench the blade from his hand and bury it into the table between his fingers.
"Drop ze paw, herr volf, or lose your own!" the creature barked.
Mavik uncurled his massive fingers from about the sea captain's broken paw, cocking his head to the side as he viewed the strange animal amid the blades pointed towards him.
"I see you've taken interest in Kerjack," Gadare spoke, as an elderly stoat saw to healing and re-bandaging the broken paw. "Not many creatures have seen the likes a' him, . . . nor should you, I suppose."
"Ve raccoons alvays frighten our enemies," Kerjack uttered, his black eyes darting to and fro behind the ebony mask of dark fur surrounding them. He leaned in close to Mavik's face, baring his stained teeth. "Und you are quite frightened."
"No," Mavik said calmly, "I've never seen one of your kind alive before." With a quick thrust of his sinewy legs, Mavik sent Kerjack sprawling across the tavern, overturning tables, and whacking the contents free of their goblets. An enormous roar of laughter bellowed from the other diners, many of whom saluted Mavik with their tankards and berated the fallen raccoon. Mavik grinned at the fallen Kerjack, but halted when he felt the prick of a blade tip rest against his neck. The female ferret nodded towards the wolf.
"Slay 'em here, Cap'n?" she asked in a raspy voice, eyeing Mavik evilly.
"No, Raspira," Gadare returned, lowering her blade with his good paw. "Give me a moment with 'im." The remaining creatures backed away a few paces, weapons still drawn. Gadare reset the chair Mavik had knocked over, straddling it as he faced the wolf.
"Listen t' my words," he continued. "I am at war with an opponent of mine- he calls 'imself Gabool the Wild. His murderous band killed 'undreds of our number; we are all that's left. I am raisin' an army t' rival and destroy his own. I need a creature of y'-caliber, shall we say-t' help me."
Mavik downed the last murky contents of his chipped mug, pushing away from the table and rising on his feet. "I'm not interested," he sneered.
"P'haps this'll 'elp, maybe?" Gadare tossed a small, rough bag onto the table before the wolf. He snatched it quickly, jerking the chord from the top and pouring its contents into his palm. Twelve gold florin greeted his eyes; each was stamped with a fang and dagger, and the phrase audaces fortuna iuvat-fortune helps the bold. Mavik shook them in his hand, testing their weight, before returning them to the bag and slipping it between the folds in his cloak. He turned back to Gadare, an evil smile twisting across his maw.
"I expect a score of these each season," he replied.
"A hefty sum!" Raspira snarled, her hand gripping the hilt of her blade.
"It'll be there," Gadare nodded. "Welcome t' th' Agony, mate! We'll need a name for you, of course-"
"They refer to me as Mavik."
"A'course, Mavik," Gadare nodded, smiling. He abruptly struck the wolf twice across the face, drawing a fresh line of blood from the wolf's nose. He hovered a finger from his good paw in front of his face, speaking in a serious tone. "That's for hittin' m' first mate, an' for m'paw. Don' ever touch me again, graypelt." He turned and nodded to Raspira. "Load 'em aboard, sister. We depart at dusk."
Mavik licked off the blood running from his nose, his eyes fixed on the ferret captain as his party left the tavern. A quick, painless death would not suffice for Citius Vogrel Gadare . . . .