Zann announced me, then was excused. He walked over to the far bulwark on the quarterdeck. The golden fellow was actually more bronze than anything else, and he was one of the most impressive beings I have encountered in my travels. Though I was a full head taller than him, he was as imposing as I was not, wearing the ridiculous Blackbeard costume.
His chiseled physique was flawless, beyond the caliber of an Olympic athlete, but his musculature was taut and practical, and the scars across his chest, arms, and face were testament to a life led by the sword. And what a weapon he possessed. Even sheathed, the thing glowed with encrusted gems; the leather scabbard was engraved with pattern I had never seen. It was similar to a series of silver tattoos on his chest and arms: beautiful but so subtle that they were imperceptible except up close. His teeth were fanged, like those of a wolf, visible only from his scowl he intended to pass for a welcoming smile. Above it all, his most surprising feature were his eyes, fierce and gray, like those of a plains predator, ever watchful of enemies far and close.
And they were settled on me.
His intense demeanor almost led me to forget the Captain, standing beside him, and the tillerman just beyond. She introduced me to the newcomer in her strange guttural tongue, sweeping an open hand toward me. The only word I recognized was my butchered name. She then motioned to the bronze man and said one single word, “Drovani.”
I repeated the name, jutting my hand out to the alien, and said, “I’m Blackjack.”
He just looked at my hand as if I was holding a handful of chicken shit and then looked at the captain with confusion. I clasped my own hand.
“You do it like this,” I said and Drovani shrugged, shaking my hand with a clumsy but firm grip. “It’s from the old days, to make sure you don’t have a weapon at the ready. Also to say hello. So, hello.”
Drovani looked at his hand, trying to conceal his distaste.
“Sorry, mate. You shake ‘er like a man.”
Somehow he understood, and thrust his hand out at me again, this time giving it a good go of it.
“Better,” I said flashing a smile that he returned.
The Captain seemed both pleased and nervous, as the bronze fellow and I seemed to hit it off. Drovani spoke to the Captain, getting approval for something, then closed his eyes, whispering. His eyes snapped open but his mumbling continued, his melodic voice echoing even after his lips stopped moving, a rolling breeze on the wind. It was a wisp, floating in front of me, barely embodied. The sound swirled around us, like dancing smoke, going through a transformation, changing in timbre and decibel, and from one overall sound to another, until finally, I could understand it.
“Pleasure to meet you, Blackjack,” Drovani said though almost twenty seconds after he had spoken.
“Nice trick,” I said, hoping that his weird magic would translate backward, and it did, though only after an interminable delay. He nodded, understanding after a while and spoke again, now moving his hands to affect the spell.
“This will bring us together,” came from the smoke after a few moments, this time faster, and with his able ministrations, he narrowed the distance between us, little by little.
“Are you he?” he said. “Are you The Blackjack?”
I beamed. “The one and only.”
The gap between the sound and his voice almost imperceptible now, “Are you the one who toppled the Mist Army?” he continued, turning severe, finishing his spell, and for a second, I thought he might attack me. I’ve faced foes much larger and powerful, vanquished them all, yet this bronze-gold man gave me pause.
“Then it is you we have to blame,” he spat. “For all the war and bloodshed that has followed.”
I looked over at the Captain, but I couldn’t read her steely face.
“Is that a fact?” I said absentmindedly, feeling Drovani’s glare.
He nodded. “It is. Since the fall of the Mists, our world has fallen to chaos and civil war. There was peace and balance with the Mist Army, despite their many flaws; their presence alone would have averted the famine and war that followed your first coming.”
“Well, you didn’t see that shithole village we arrived at, and the abject squalor those people had to live in.”
“He speaks of Dorrakhan,” The captain shot in, identifying the village. I did a double-take on her, suddenly realizing that Drovani’s