Darkness Surrounds [Work in Progress]

I recently started on this novel and this frist chapter mostly sets up the two main characters to be bewildered by the oddities thrust at them from here on, but would still love any possible feedback or a few good eyes for possible errors I might have missed.

(Edited 11/13/04)
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Malere’s boots clicked softly as he paced back and forth in the all too small cabin. He had not even stopped long enough to take off any of his armor. Blood could be seen in blotches, staining the many links that made up his chain mail that he wore. His long black hair was matted with sweat, and his deep brown eyes stared off into the distance, overwhelmed by sorrow. He had seen too many of his friends die this day.

“Perhaps Burk was right.” Malere said, almost reluctantly. His voice was etched in sadness. He stopped his pacing, and turned his wary face towards the other man in the room. The dusty blonde haired man sat in the corner, trying to battle against his stomach to make sure it didn’t turn inside out. His usually carefree too green eyes lacked the glint of mirth that often graced their depths. His face was a little pale, and his knuckles were bloodless as he held onto the bolted down chair as if he himself were keeping the chair in place. Trayk did not like boats much. A small smile crossed Mal’s face at that moment. Trayk had been with Mal ever since he could remember. Trayk had been with him when Mal first received the sword, and Mal had been with Trayk when he first got his first knife, and his second, third, tenth, and twentieth. Mal did not know how many knives or daggers Trayk had anymore, or how many he had left on the battlefield. Though Trayk seemed to always have one if his quiver was empty. He prized his daggers as much as he prized his precious bow, and Trayk treated that as if it were an intimate lover. Never did he let the string loosen, or an arrow dull. Trayk prized his weapons almost as much as Mal prized their friendship, but good memories could not change the situation they were in at the moment, and Mal’s smile quickly faded into a frown.

Mal wasn’t quite sure Trayk had heard him the first time, “Perhaps I should have listened to him.” Trayk’s face paled a bit more as Mal’s words sunk into his conscious.

“By Atin’s Grace take that back!” Trayk stood up, a bit wobbly at first, but gained his balance quickly. “You know damn well we did what was right.” Malere turned away from Trayk and stared into the corner of the cabin. “Those people had no one to defend them, and they were as innocent as Atin herself!”

“Damn it Trayk!” Mal whirled around on Trayk, fist clenched as if in a death grip. “We were paid to do a job, and we went back on our word, and because of that, I got people killed. How many died today because we went against our orders? How many Trayk?” Malere turned away once more. From that angle Trayk could see the tears streaming down his face. “Do you have any idea how many we left behind to be hung up for all and paraded around as traitors? I promised them glory and riches? What glory is there in being marked a traitor?”

“Glory?! Since when did any of the Honorable Lord Malere men seek glory?”

“Honorable Lord Malere?” Mal turned towards Trayk once again, his usually well kept beard wet with tears. “I am no lord Trayk.” Mal’s head shook, from side to side, as his eyes looked past Trayk into the past. “No matter what those peasants said I am just a lowly mercenary captain, and as for honorable.” Mal spit out the words, his eyes focusing on Trayk. “Need I remind you we are running for our lives? What honor is there in running?”

Trayk walked towards the door, stumbling as the ship rocked. He went to open it but stopped at the last minute. “And what of all the people in the cargo bay? Are they not worth anything? We are their last hope. We are all they have left, and you dare to think that it would be better if we had gone against them. I wish the honorable Lord Malere were here today. I’ll be leaving now.”

Trayk partially opened the door when a knock came from outside. Trayk turned to look at Mal as he let the door swing open. Outside stood a sailor in the hallway. Mal had kept the same ship with the same crew and captain as their vessel of transportation since he had started fighting for hire. Mal knew every single one of them almost as well as he knew every single one of his own men, and was good friends with Captain Dethore.

“What is it Karl?” Mal glared at the young sailor suspiciously. Dethore had hired Karl fairly recently, so he was often used as a messenger or other meanly tasks. He wore the outfit of all the sailors; a light tunic with rolled up pants and bare feet. He had windblown, shortcut blond hair, and the scruff on his face noted that he was trying to grow some facial hair to fit in better with his mates. He had deeply bronzed skin, but at the moment it was slightly paler then usual, and a sheen of sweet could be seen as he shifted from one foot to the other uneasily.

“They ask for your presence above deck, master Malere.” Karl stuttered.

“Who does? For what purpose?”

“That’s all I was supposed to tell you, I’m sorry Mal.” Karl backed up against the wall of the hallway, tears streaming down his face. Mal rushed out of the cabin and slammed Karl against the wall.

“What in Atin’s name is going on?” He screamed at Karl, something was up. Karl blubbered something incoherent, but was no use. Mal threw him aside with a slight grunt and started off at a sprint towards the stairway to the deck. Trayk followed closely, hands resting on hidden daggers.

Malere came outside to cloudless night. The stars shone brightly and the moon was full. In any other circumstances he would have stopped to enjoy it, but tonight things needed to be explained. Trayk came out just behind him, and they took in the scene together.

They were completely surrounded, by both Mal’s men and some sailors. All of them were focused at the two, and all were armed with some sort of weapon. Burk stepped out from the group, straight ahead of Mal and Trayk.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Mal barked at Burk. “Why aren’t the sailors at their posts, where is Dethore?”

“Dethore is behind you, along with those others that were foolish enough to stand up for you.” Burk said, motioning with his head to the upper deck. Trayk’s quick intake of breath made Mal whirl around. Their neatly laid out were several bodies, Mal counted thirty-four of his own, and another twenty-four of the sailors, including Dethore’s. Mal turned back around unsteadily. His legs didn’t seem to want to work properly. Mal now noticed how several of the men around him bore fresh wounds. How many had died trying to take over? He wanted to yell at Burk, to rip him apart, but when he tried to make a sound all that came out was a gurgle. Blood drained from his face, the world started spinning around him. He had failed his men, let them down, and now they had turned against him.

“All those men died because of you Malere, their deaths were needless. Now there are only two traitors left. You were given an order and openly refused it, and your men died because of it, but I am going to set things right. The ship has stopped. Ferlore’s warship will be here in a few minuets. They will take all the vermin below deck, and most likely you as well. From then on I care not for what happens to you.

Mal stuttered, but said nothing. Burk’s words had sunk home, worse than a dagger. He staggered and began to fall, but Trayk quickly supported him. Mal turned to stare at Trayk’s face, which was ablaze with rage. Something in Trayk’s face triggered Mal into action. Shrugging off Trayk’s hands, he straightened, staring defiantly at Burk.

Mal reached behind him and grabbed the hilt of his sword. He slowly slid it from its sheath, eyeing Burk all the time. He pointed the four feet of naked steel at Burk. ”I wont let you hurt any of them Burk, I stand by my actions.”

A huge weight seemed to lift off of Trayk, and he sprang into motion. “And I’ll kill every last one of you before I let you touch em!” The usual glint of mischief returned to his eye as he leaped in front of Mal. “Take a swim and I’ll think about not chasing after you to see the life drain from your eyes you sniveling bastard!” Burk took a step back, scoffing at the two.

“Ferlore would have made your deaths quick, I’m going to enjoy hearing you beg for your life. Kill them!” Burk motioned with his sword for the men to attack, but they all hesitated, unsure of what to do. Trayk was all too happy to use that hesitation to his advantage. Blades flashed out from hidden depths in his armor. Slicing through the air, they took the two men to the either side of Burk in the throat. Trayk gave out a laugh as Burk jumped back, and then was off to one side, letting daggers fly in all directions; a whirling tornado of deadly steel.

Malere stalked straight towards Burk, his sword leading the way. He made his way over the deck slowly, eyes always on Burk, hatred and anger searing a hole through the vile man. The others seemed as reluctant to attack Mal as Burk did; they had all seen him in battle. Mal’s blade was an extension of himself. The two of them come alive in a dance of death, and Burk wanted nothing to do with it. Grunts and thuds could be heard around the ship as Trayk let blades fly. None got remotely close to him before eight inches of cold steel entered their bodies. Burk kept backing up, yelling at those around him to take. None of his old men would take up the challenge, but two sailors pressed their luck to try and impress their new master. Mal didn’t even take his eyes off Burk as he casually decapitated one and took the legs off the other.

Burk backed up against a mast as arrows started raining down from above. Somehow Trayk had gotten himself up the main mast, and was now proceeding to rain death down upon those below. Those that were not already dead were leaping over the side of the ship; all was chaos. Burk was now cornered and alone, a frightened animal, and like all cornered animals, he lashed out, but with a deft twist of Mal’s blade he sent clattering on the floor of the deck and over the side.

“Please, I’ll do anything” Burk sniveled.

“All that is left for you to do is die.” Trayk yelled from up above.

Burk looked up just in time to see the arrow from Trayk’s bow plunge into his left eye, travel through his throat and come to rest next to Mal’s sword that had pinned him to the mast. With one last gurgle, Burk was still.

Malere removed his blade from Burk’s corpse and surveyed the scene. A number of bodies laid about deck, either full of daggers or arrows, besides the two Mal had killed. Trayk hoped down off the mast and was now retrieving his weapons. Neither of them looked at faces, it was far to sad to think of the battles they had fought side by side with the men they had just killed. Once Trayk was done collecting and cleaning all his daggers and salvageable arrows, he turned to Mal. “Now what?”

“Go make sure all the people down below are all right, I’ll try and get this ship moving.”

Trayk looked out to the closing warship with uncertainty. It was a massive ship, and was at full sail straight for the starboard side of the ship. On its deck were 2 catapults and a massive ballista, all ready to fire. It would be there in a matter of minutes, but Trayk wouldn’t disobey his commander. With one last worried look at Malere, he hurried down below deck.

Sadness crept back into Malere’s conscious as he walked the deck. There would be no use to try and get the ship going himself, even if he were able to they would be within firing distance before they got up to half speed. He walked the decks and examined those that had died this day. He went from person to person, kneeling down and praying for them, asking forgiveness for failing them. He was only half way done when a large splash came from starboard. Mal steadied himself as the boat rocked from the impact. Apparently Ferlore didn’t want to wait and capture them before killing them. The other two catapults on Ferlore’s ships fired, sending one heap of burning pitch smashing onto the deck and another smashing into the main mast, sending it sliding into the see ablaze. The ship creaked and groaned in protest as the boards immediately caught flame and ropes from the mast tried to pull the boat under with it. Mal heard the screams from below deck, but could do nothing for all the flames about ship. Another twang came from the great warship, and something large crashed into the side of the ship. Mal was thrown off his feet and slid through the flames as the ship he was on began to capsize. He clawed and scraped for anything to hold onto, but there was nothing that he could get a handhold on.

The ocean hit him like a thousand icy needles shooting through his body. The cold made him lose his breath, and his armor-weighted body began to sink into the murky depths immediately. Mal ripped at his armor frantically, throwing off piece by piece while trying to struggle for the surface. With great sorrow he ripped his beloved sword off his back, and let it sink into the darkness below. The coldness had seeped deep into his body by the time he had relieved enough weight to stop sinking. His lungs burned, they cried out for air. Mal reached out for the surface, clawing his way through the water. Darkness pounded at his head, and suddenly, it seemed pretty inviting. He let the coldness envelope him, the darkness capture him. He felt the water enter his lungs, but no panic tainted his conscious, only peace. Debris from the ship floated by Mal as he sank into the murky brine, but he didn’t notice it at all. He knew only the darkness.