《Broken clockwork》


 Prologue: Kaveh Fahraddin

    The fury of the merciless winds beat on the large sails, and black water splashed onto the wooden deck, drenching Kaveh Fahraddin. His grey eyes looked forward, focused on the head of the gallease, where the bound figure of a winged angel had been carved into its bow. Water droplets pitter-pattered on the surface of the boat, and the hunched figures of bound men rushed about clumsily, carrying buckets, boxes, and ropes to and fro mindlessly.


    The triple star brand carved into their shoulders revealed their nature as slaves, and still red scars were etched onto their bare backs, signs that they had just been whipped recently. Many of them were beardless, barely even adults, and their bodies were scarred and swelled, calloused. Kaveh had seen such things many times amongst his companions years ago, back in the old slave barracks where he had trained for war. Ah¡­ those times¡­ time had gone by fast. If only they had gone by faster.


    "Work harder you damn slaves! Work! Work! Work! Even a pig could do this better than you!" A young man barked out. Dressed in a thick leather coat that protected him from the elements, his face had been hidden behind the mask that all slave masters were required to wear, but even through the rain, Kaveh''s sharp ears could still pick up his identity. It was the nephew of the captain, an inexperienced young idiot named Bahram. "Get the boxes under the hold! Hurry! If the water washes over it I will kill you by my own hands!"


    The crack of a whip thundered through the air, and a shadowy figure fell over. His screams were drowned out by the tumultuous waves of the ocean, and a crack of lightning sounded through the air. Kaveh sighed, and he turned to examine the other slaves. Many of them had their heads turned to watch the spectacle, and some even seemed to have their fists clenched. He rose.


    "Damnit! You idiot! Who told you you could fall?!" Bahram howled, raising his whip once more to hit the man. "Filthy Ghulam! Your kind are the worst- eh"


    "Stop." Kaveh ordered, his hand gripping onto Bahram''s own. At 35, Kaveh Fahraddin was a mature-looking man. Though of moderate height and of stocky body, his cheeks were gaunt, and his chin sharp. His grey eyes were a deep crevice, and his scruffy beard hid a hundred pale scars, all obtained over his years in the service of his homeland. His nose was long, his mouth pursed, much like a vulture was.


    "Kaveh." Bahram''s voice deepened, and he slowly swiveled about to face him. "Who said a Ghulam like you could touch me."


    "I am no Ghulam." Kaveh spoke softly, though with a clear threat in it. His old scar itched, and he restrained his hand from moving it. Years past, back when he was a child, he had been sold into slavery as a tribute. The brand of the Shahanshah had found it''s home on his back, and he had served as a faithful slave to the lord and master of the Khosroshahr for years, only being freed recently. Sometimes, when anyone brought the scar up, it itched painfully, and a desire to scratch it would wash over Kaveh.


    "Once was, always will be. Your mark betrays you, Ghulam. Let go of me."


    Kaveh did not respond.


    "Let go of me." Bahram ordered.


    "You are not my master, Bahram."


    The young man growled, his guttural voice sounding through the air. His hand was still on the whip, but as the sea water splattered and washed over them methodically, Kaveh could feel something off, and so could Bahram. Their eyes turned. A small circle had formed around them. The faceless slaves had dropped their cargo and had moved to watch the two slave masters quarrel. Bahram dropped.


    The whip fell from the hand, and Kaveh''s grip released. Almost immediately, he snatched his hand away, and thoroughly embarassed, eyed the ex-Ghulam with hateful green eyes, walking away silently as the slaves parted for him. The deck was silent now, but the rain and wind held, and the waves were incessant in their mewing.


    "Work. Now." Kaveh growled, as he picked up the whip, and sauntered off as the young slaves were shocked back into reality, rushing back to work. Kaveh could be much worse than Bahram had been, and they knew it. They feared him, and with that, they obeyed him.


    As he stepped into the cabins, a deep stench washed over him. Here, lamps shook incessantly in unified formations as sailors and Ghulams rushed about doing their business. It was mealtime, and many of the men mingled about playing cards, eating fish sludge, citrus, or some salted beef and crackers, or hefted heavy objects about. As the door to the cabins closed behind him, many of the sailors turned to see the covered figure of Kaveh, shadowed by the darkness outside, drenched by the seawater rain of the ocean. They parted ways for him to pass.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He had heard rumours about where he came from through the thin rafts of wood that separated the decks. Men spoke in hushed whispers about his origins, about his scars and the griffon eye brand on his shoulder, about his skill with the whip and his shadowy appearance. Some of the sailors, superstitious people as they were, called him a demon behind his backs, others called him a convict on the run in the service of their captain in exchange for a new identity. Both weren''t wrong. Both weren''t right.


    Climbing up a creaky pair of wooden staircases, he found himself face to face with a large, mail-armoured guard with a sword in hand. Giving the guard a nod, the guard opened the door that led into a cushioned, luxurious room, that of the captain of the ship, Mani Arkashar. He was short and stocky, and though he had a pot belly, his chest stood proud and his arms were large and veiny, revealing a defined set of muscle under his chubby exterior. His face was fat and large, and his eyebrows crunched together to form a unibrow. He had been on the sea for almost half a century at this point, and had once held the title of Admiral, before the Great Reconquest had begun.


    His head was tilted downwards, his chin resting beneath a large pool of neck fat, as he examined a large pile of documents in his veiny hands. As the door creaked open, he lifted his eyes ever so slightly, and his fats jiggled ever so slightly as he awaited his subordinate''s greeting.


    "Mani Sir." Kaveh clicked his feet together, holstered his whip, and saluted, his arm swinging around parallel to his body towards his forehead, his fingers locked together and his gloved palm shown to the captain. A military salute.


    "Down." Mani spoke, and with as equal precision as before, Kaveh''s body moved instinctively and he marched closer towards his captain, taking a seat infront of the fat old admiral.


    "Your nephew. He''s abusing the slaves again."


    "I''ll deal with it when it becomes a problem."


    "He''s already a problem sir." Kaveh said. He felt the boat shake and turn, and out of the corner of his eye, a lamp shook and slanted sideways, before rapidly falling back to its position.


    "Is he."


    "He is."


    Mani''s eyebrow rose slightly. "That wasn''t a question."


    Kaveh shook his head, and turned to the ceiling, where a large chandelier shook. It waved hypnotically, back, and forth, and back, and forth. His eyes slanted. "Mani Sir¡­ this storm¡­ it seems too strong to be normal. The workers are worried. They speak in hushed tones, say we''ve entered the Claws of Pashto."


    "Of course it''s too strong." Mani hissed. The wave of impenetrable sarcasm had washed away, and though the biting cold of each word remained, Kaveh realized that what the man said was truth, every word. "They''re right."


    Kaveh''s eyes widened in shock, and he drew back, but he did not say a word. The silence hung in the air for a moment, before he finally spoke. "The men are on the edge of a mutiny. When I confronted your nephew earlier, the workers stopped to watch us. Their aura. They wanted to kill us."


    "They always do. They think that we''ve entered a dangerous ocean and that they''re going to die. I''ve heard their whispers through the thin cracks of these rafters. They''re already plotting."


    "We should try to subdue them, give them a reason not to worry."


    Mani did not answer immediately, but instead we rose to his feet, and his eyes went to face the glass window behind him that opened up into the stormy sea. The dark clouds rose and flowed, the black waters ebbed and floundered. "Are you a superstitious man?"


    "No." There was a flash in the sea. Kaveh blinked.


    "Then you won''t understand." Mani spoke, and turned back to face the ex-ghulam. Had it been part of his imagination? No it couldn''t be. Mani obviously hadn''t seen it. Kaveh blinked once more. No. The flash. It was still there. "Kaveh¡­"


    Flash.


    "Mani Sir!" Kaveh rose to his feet. Raising his arm, he pointed to the dark sea. "Theres something in the sea!"


    "Are you a child, Ghulam?" Mani''s voice rose. Behind him, there was a flash, then a light peeked out of the sea. Then another, and another, and another, and another, and another. "You have no right to speak over me."


    Kaveh took a step back. There was a sudden flash of light and thunder that illuminated the dark sky, and behind the fat admiral, Kaveh could see the shape of a large behemoth. Grey. Metallic. Lights adorned it''s body, and it''s fins rose high out of the sea. It rose out of the sea, and it''s body slowly curved it''s way towards the ship. This was no delusion.


    "Mani! Behind you!"


    "What is it, you damn child?" Mani shouted. "Theres noth-"


    Kaveh blinked, and when his eyes opened, he found himself in the air. The sudden vortex of air had pulled him outwards. Glass shards, splinters of wood, and nails flew beside him. He screamed. He cried in fear. He entered the murky water. His cries stopped, and were replaced by gurgling and choking. He tried to rise, but he couldn''t. There was no sound but the bubbling of water, and as he struggled to breathe, he felt his consciousness seeping away.


    Slowly, blackness overtook him.


    --


    Kaveh''s eyes open to a fresh blue sky. White clouds adorn the sky, and seagulls fly about in circles. He blinks. Is this...


    Where is he?

 Chapter 1: A warm welcome

    Kaveh blinked. The sky was a bright blue, dashed across by slowly drifting exotic streaks of white that would slyly hide colourful rays of light. A dark circle of seagulls flew over him, their shadows dashing across Kaveh''s eyes as quickly as it left. Kaveh turned to his left, his eyes checking his surroundings.


    Ramshackle piles of wooden planks lay within his eyes, stretching out across the sea as far as he could see. Cadavers and pieces of human limbs were washed ashore, a deep taint of red washed across the white sands. Weird, jagged pieces of metal stuck out of the ground like hills, gleaming in the sunlight.


    Where was he?


    "Did man move?" A voice spoke. Kaveh froze, and his eyes darted about. Where had it come from. The sound? He closed his eyes, crunching his eyelids together to quickly refocus his eyes. The accent. He recognized it, yes. It was Nikelo, the language of the people of the great east. Was that where he was? How did he get here?


    "Watch out. Might be Grey Fae, shapeshifted into human." A second voice. It was deeper and more cynical. Grey Fae. What were that? The name seemed familiar but¡­


    "We should kill it." A third voice spoke.


    Kaveh blinked, and his eyes grew large. Kill.


    Immediately, his body jolted, and he felt re-energized all of a sudden. His eyes darted left and right, making sure he did not show that he was awake. He needed to keep surprise on his side. There were atleast 3 men there, behind him, out of eyeshot. He needed something to fight. To kill.


    "Yes. Kill." First voice. Loud. Kaveh continued to search for a weapon, and found it. A blunt piece of wood stuck out of the sand, its smooth yet awkward edges calling out to the warrior. His instincts took over, and he slowly shifted his hand over.


    Footsteps. Kaveh could hear 3 men stepping towards him, their feet crunching the sand underneath them. By the sound of their footsteps, he measured that they wore soled leather boots.


    He slowly shifted his hand towards the wood that stuck out of the sand. It would do. He just needed the element of surprise. He could kill them.


    "Keep any metals away from that Fae. Use obsidian weapons. If we wake it it''ll absorb them."


    Absorb¡­ metals?


    "Yes, sir." Two voices. Kaveh heard the clatter of metal against the sand, and he heard the distinct scratch of unsheathing swords. His eyes trailed, and he found the shadows of two men over him, and a third beyond him.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Moving in, sir."


    "Keep an eye on the Fae."


    There was only one pair of footsteps now. Left side. He was closing in. The shadow was closing in, and Kaveh readied himself.


    As the man closed in, Kaveh Fahraddin readied himself. His eyes were concentrated on his left, and he squinted them to pretend that he was asleep. Wait¡­ wait¡­ wait¡­


    A leather foot appeared next to him, and Kaveh leapt forward.


    Grabbing the ankle of the man to his left, he pulled it to the side with all his strength as he grabbed the blunt wooden piece stuck in the sand next to him. Pulling it with all his strength, he used his momentum to roll himself over onto his knees, and within a moment, struck the man in the knee with all the force he could.


    The man screeched, and the other two assailants immediately shouted. "It''s awake!"


    Kaveh eyed the two men for a moment. One had a bayoneted musket, the other a white sword, and rolled to his right. The burst of the musket pierced through Kaveh''s ears, and the two men disappeared behind a wall of grey smoke. With his makeshift wooden mace, he quickly finished off the screeching man next to him, a young one no more than 20, before snatching his white sword and rushing forward, using the smoke to his advantage.


    There was a silhouette through the smoke, and Kaveh readied the sword. Raising to his full height, he recklessly threw the sword forward, and it hit the man square on his arm. The man dropped, Kaveh rushed forward.


    Another shot, and Kaveh felt a rush of pain through his body. He looked down. Side of stomach, just a graze. It hurt. It burnt. He bit his lip, and the overpowering taste of copper washed over his mouth. He continued forward, and quickly finished off the second man, snatching his sword too.


    Rising once more, he found himself in the middle of the grey, and he squinted his eyes. There was a faint disturbance in the air, and he saw a bayonet fly through the smoke. Almost immediately, he rose his mace to bear, and knocked the musket away. There was another disturbance, and he felt something land square on his nose.


    He hissed in pain and stumbled backwards, dropping the wooden plank. The bayonet came once more, and it was just by a hair''s breadth that it missed Kaveh. Stumbling to his knees in pain, he realized his dire situation as the musket-wielding man stepped out of the smoke.


    He was tall, masked, and heavily armoured in steel. His markings were clearly Nikelo in nature, the Golden Lorica Squamata donning him as an officer. He was silent as he raised the musket, his eyeless mask exuding a full killing intent.


    Kaveh looked about, and he found a piece of iron sticking out of the sand. It was do or die.


    Kicking himself forward, he grabbed the piece of iron and threw it towards the officer. It was as if time slowed, but as the iron flew towards the armoured man, it seemed as if the world shifted. The musket moved sideways towards the flying piece of iron, and the officer stumbled forward. As the piece of iron struck him, instead of bouncing off, it stuck. He fired, the lead bullet hit the sand.


    Kaveh blinked in shock, but he realized an opportunity where there was one. Years of war had taught him such, and he had the scars to prove it. Rushing to his feet, he once again found his trust wooden mace laying by his side and brought it to bear, bashing it down on the helmet of the officer that lay at his feet. He grabbed hold of the helmet, and with his full weight on the chest of the armoured officer, he continued to smash the man''s skull with the helmet. Over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over again.


    By the time he was done, the Nikelo officer''s skull was a broken mess. It was gorish, akin to mash potatoes. His nose had been broken inwards, his teeth lay by his side. His eyes crushed, brain matter and blood flowing out of the numerous cuts across his face and through his nose. His face, once human, now resembled a pancake.


    Kaveh took in a number of slow, deep breaths, before finally dropping the helmet. It was coated red, and dented. He licked his lips, and fell sideways onto the sand. As he mindlessly eyed the clouds, he slowly shifted his gaze onto the helmet, and the piece of iron that lay beside it. Had it just been a trick of the eye, why had the piece of iron stuck to the helmet? Why did it stop? What the hell was happening here? He had so many questions to ask.