Beside him, Chalk bounced from one foot to the other, energized by the drums, though his movements didn’t follow the rhythm. When the shaman grinned, his scarred lips twisted and his pockmarked face wrinkled. “My Grieve! And the serpent god! Serpent, serpent, serpent! And blood for our war.”
“We will feed the serpent god,” Grieve said, “and he will feed our bravery and our strength.”
Captain Kor waited at the end of the dock. Ten serpent ships were tied up in the harbor, making final preparations for his own raid, and Lars had a similar group of vessels, while the rest of the Norukai navy was anchored well beyond the reefs, ready to sail for Ildakar.
Kor presented himself before Grieve, stiff and formal. “I am honored to watch the sacrifice at your side, my king. The serpent god will empower my raiding party as well as your fleet.”
Grieve opened his mouth wide, exposing his teeth all the way back to the molars, and he let out a loud hiss, imitating the serpent god. Chalk laughed, delighted at the exhibition.
Grieve said, “The serpent god will empower me and my warriors, but he must forgive you and your weakness. Do you think Yorik has enough blood to buy both of those things for us?”
“Yorik is a powerful man. The serpent god will be pleased.”
Crowds gathered down at the harbor to watch from a safe distance. Norukai women brought their wide-eyed children out for the ceremony. Grieve saw that some of the boys were old enough to undergo the scarification. A few young men had their cheeks slit all the way back to the hinge of the jaw, but their scars were still red and angry. Others still had bandages wrapped around their faces. The young men watched the war preparations with shining eyes. Some of their mothers, also well armed, would go along for the battle, leaving the children in the care of trusted slaves.
Grieve looked at his people, and they stared back at him in admiration. They all feared him, but it was a healthy fear. He had led them to great glory and wealth, but he himself had remained in the Bastion for far too long. He was ready to feel hard bone and vulnerable flesh against the blade of his axe, the hot spray of blood across his face. Yes, it had been too long.
But before they could go, he had to receive the strength and blessing of the serpent god.
Leaving the crowds in the safety of the harbor, Grieve strode alongside Chalk and Kor on the narrow rock path above the tide line. This way led around the protective point to a deep, rough cove open to the sea, where the great serpents could come.
They followed the edge of the cliffs to where they could look across at pillars of stone erected on the reef rock, from which manacles dangled. This was the place of sacrifice, safely far from the ships anchored out beyond the reefs. Eager Norukai from the fleet set out in small coracles, paddling around the harbor and keeping close to the jagged shore, where they didn’t need to fear the great serpent when it came. Some of the large raiding ships also rowed closer so their crews could watch the spectacle.
The iron bells and loud drums thundered around the cliffs, sending a relentless call through the water. The serpent god would hear and respond to the summons.
Kor’s voice was hoarse. “We must prepare.” He stared at the stone posts and the empty chains hanging from them. “Quickly.”
“Prepare!” Chalk shouted. “My Grieve, King Grieve!”
A large coracle came into the cove and approached the stone pillars from the deep water. Two burly Norukai warriors rowed the coracle, while Yorik rode in the front, hunched down. He did not look panicked. Instead, he stared at the twin pillars and the chains waiting for him; then he gazed out to sea, knowing that was where the monster would come.
Kor watched him, his face expressionless.
Chalk cried out, “Serpent, serpent, serpent! I’ve seen it! Blood, and war, and victory.” Then he lowered his voice, tilted his head, and snickered. “But who will win? Who will die? The serpent god will feast.”
“Quiet, Chalk,” Grieve chided. “This is a solemn occasion. It is important for our future.”
“Our future! Ildakar! Ildakar will be gone after we arrive.”
“Ildakar will be ours,” Grieve said, and turned to Kor. “And if your raiders do their jobs, so will the cities along the coast.”
“Lars and I will attack them all, King Grieve,” Kor said. “Those cities have never seen anything like the Norukai.”
The guards rowed the coracle up to the stone posts and threw a grappling hook to anchor the small boat against the rocks. They prodded Yorik, but he needed no encouragement. Naked, he stood up from the boat and stepped onto the shore, willingly taking his place between the posts with the chains. His body was muscular and scarred, covered with tattooed curves and stripes along his ribs, shoulders, buttocks, and the backs of his legs. Watching him, Grieve thought Yorik was a proud man despite his unforgivable failure.
Kor said, “The serpent god will devour him and consume his weakness, leaving the rest of us stronger.”
“You have to consume your own weakness, Kor,” Grieve grumbled.
“I know. My shame will sharpen my sword and strengthen my battle-axe. I can only pray that enough blood will wash it away. Lars and his fleet will do the same.”
The guards raised Yorik’s arms and fastened the manacles around his wrists. Arms outstretched, Yorik hung between the two stone posts. His feet barely touched the slick rock where waves crashed against the base of the posts.
From where they stood on the opposite side of the cove, Chalk hungrily watched the sacrificial victim. Dangling there, Yorik stared out to sea. He didn’t struggle. The drumbeats and the iron bells made a louder and louder clamor.
After placing the victim in chains, the guards climbed back into the coracle and rowed swiftly away, knowing the serpent god would come soon.
At the end of the path opposite from the sacrificial post hung a wide brass gong on a trunk of driftwood. King Grieve picked up the baton and shouted, “Serpent god, we have a sacrifice for you. We need your strength, and we give you ours. Help us share in the blood of conquest.”
Like a warrior swinging a battle mace into an enemy’s skull, Grieve smashed the gong, eliciting a thunderous crash, surely loud enough to be heard even in the greatest depths of the ocean. The sound of the gong reverberated around the island. Thousands of Norukai aboard the serpent ships let out loud cheers, as did the crowds in the sheltered harbor. Aboard the serpent ships, the raiders began stomping on the decks, rattling on the rails. The pounding on the iron bells and drums grew louder, more insistent.
Chalk snatched the baton from Grieve’s large hands and swung it against the gong, clanging and clanging.
Isolated on the spit of rock, Yorik hung on his chains, watching the open water until a ripple formed on the choppy waves, a jagged, razor-edged fin that sliced the surface. Around the island and out in the ships, spectators cried out for the serpent god. Grieve wondered why their noise didn’t distract the enormous creature, but the serpent god knew its intended sacrifice.
The snakelike form glided through the deep channel, approaching the island. Waves crashed against the reefs, boomed on the rocks and cliffs, echoed in the cove. From his chains, Yorik shouted, “Serpent god, I am yours!” The man let out a loud snarling growl which sounded of both challenge and surrender.
The shape grew larger, the shadow darker in the water, and finally the serpent god rose from the waves. The creature’s head was long and angular, like a spear point. Frills of fins spread out like bloodred fans behind its head and under its jaw. Its scales were magnificent, blue and green. Each of its eyes was larger than a human head. As the great serpent sinuously lifted itself higher, rivulets poured from its jaws. It was far more fearsome and magnificent than the carving at the prow of any serpent ship.