REVENGE OF THE NAVIGATOR

By RK Olson
 

 
The Spearslayer Sect was annihilated at the Battle of the Golga River by the treachery of the Three Nation Alliance. A thousand years of knowledge and the perfection of the warrior arts lost in a single afternoon. A handful survived to join the Spearslayer diaspora. Here is one Spearslayer’s story.

A SUN-BLEACHED rag covered the enormous Kalan warrior’s bald head, protecting it from the harsh bite of the sun. His arms, with hands calloused from long contact with a scimitar-hilt, dangled over the side of the wooden merchant ship. The slashes and crosses of the Tattoos of Obedience on the Kalan’s right forearm glowed ghostly white against sunburned flesh. Shimmering heat waves hovered and danced over the ocean surface in the thick, sticky air.

The dark-skinned Thessite patted the Kalan’s broad back. ‘Sinie, how’s the seasickness? Do you think you can hold down water?’

The six-foot-five black-bearded Kalan groaned. ‘I am not meant for the sea. How much longer before we reach Epolis?’ he hissed through his teeth.

‘The convoy has another stop before we head west to Epolis,’ answered the Thessite, running a dry tongue over dry lips.

The Thessite was sitting cross-legged on a deck crowded to the gunwales with boxes and bales of merchant goods. He wore a light linen shirt and pants with rope sandals.

A flat yellow sun suspended overhead in a pale blue cloudless sky bore heavily on the Thessite’s shoulders. An indifferent breeze provided little relief. His shirt was stuck to his back with sweat.

The high-sided ship was one of seven in the merchant convoy. It bobbed sluggishly forward across the blue waters of the Great Najar Sea. Neat rows of bales of cloth, ollas of wine, fine jewellery, medicines, spices, fruits and vegetables and metalwork items covered the deck or were packed in the vessel's hold by the crew. The Thessite shaded his eyes with one hand and watched sailors unfurl more sails to coax speed from the faint breeze.

A dozen passengers sat scattered across the searing hot wood deck, snatching shade provided by the shadows thrown off from the bales and boxes. The tang of salt mingled with the sharp odour of tar and the softer scents of spice and cotton cloth infusing the heavy air on deck.

He closed his eyes and lifted his smooth, angular face to the sun, thinking of what he would do in Epolis to find his daughter. A pang of regret knifed his heart when he thought of the son he had to leave behind.

What if I never find her?

He stood and squeezed his hardened limbs to work out the stiffness. He was of medium height and well-built, with broad shoulders and lean hips. The sun beat down on his black, close-cropped hair, showing a light dusting of grey as the Thessite had crossed into middle-age.

He squinted across the expanse of blue ocean below and blue sky above. The reflected shimmering ocean light exploded in his dark eyes and made them water.

He rubbed his eyes, looked again, and spied a sail poke over the horizon to the south. The Thessite pulled a face. He turned toward the stern and observed the grey-haired captain rigid as a post gripping the rail on the elevated poop deck, staring south at the sail too.

The Thessite weaved his way aft around the stacked boxes and bales on deck.

‘Permission to climb up?’ asked the Thessite, looking up at the captain.

‘Granted,’ grunted the captain, wiping the sweat off the inside band of his broad-brimmed hat.

The captain squinted, and his face erupted into lines and tracks.

‘Trouble?’ The Thessite’s six feet of height put him a head taller than the captain.

‘An unknown ship under full sail on course to intercept my ship?’ The captain snorted.

Turning, he flashed his right arm skyward and two barefoot sailors scrambled up the rigging and attached a ten-foot red banner.

‘The convoy guard ship will fly to our aid when they see the signal,’ said the captain flatly and without conviction.

‘Can we outrun them back to the guard ship?’

‘In this tub? We haul things. The ship out there is an Epolian Sling. I can tell by the oversized sail. The fastest ship on the water, by Kol and Mamo. If that’s the Navigator’s Epolian Sling, it’s the fastest of the fast and we are lost.’

‘The Navigator?’ said the Thessite.

‘The Navigator is a pirate with the gift of sensing the wind and the sea currents under the hull. It is said that the ocean is a living part of the Navigator’s being, allowing the Navigator to manoeuvre a ship with unmatched speed and precision across the Sea. Some call her a sorceress.’

The merchant vessel’s sails snapped in response to a freshening breeze and the ship’s rolling and pitching increased in depth and length, causing spray to shoot up and over the bow, water droplets sparkling like jewels for a moment and then vanishing.

The Thessite climbed down to the deck and observed the nimble Epolian Sling pirate ship skate over the rolling sea. It was as thin as a razor and rode low in the water.

‘Damn this seasickness, Dar,’ said Sinie, rising to his feet.

Sinie flexed his large hands and wiped them on his grey sleeveless tunic. Clammy sweat beaded his forehead and rolled down his hooked nose. He’d ripped his red pants off at the knees for coolness. His scarred leather war boots were worn down at the heels.

With thick legs, he braced himself against the roll of the ship. With one hand, he clasped his three-foot long scimitar while grasping the ship’s rail with the other. He spit and forced a grin. Strong white teeth emerged through his bushy black beard.

‘Here they come,’ said Sinie.

Grappling hooks peppered the air and sank their sharp hooks deep into the wood of the merchant ship with heavy thumps. Dar ran to the bow and grabbed a wicked-looking six-foot long fishing gaff. It had a spike on one end and a sideways spike on the other. He wedged it between a grappling hook and the ship, levering it loose and sending it tumbling into the sea.

Sinie’s scimitar flashed in the sun as he sliced a grappling hook ropes while the screams of the passengers and the howls of the pirates reverberated across the deck.

The pirates overwhelmed the merchant ship and scaled its hull, hauling themselves up on the ropes Dar and Sinie couldn’t reach. Five bare-chested, tattooed pirates leaped on deck and tossed boxes and bails over the side into their ship. The merchant captain stumbled toward the stern and joined the huddled, frightened passengers.

The bows of the ships slammed together with a shuddering grinding crash, throwing ocean spray skyward. The force of the bows slamming together knocked Dar off his feet. He rolled to his Spearslayer attack-ready position with the fishing gaff. A score of half-naked and barefoot, rangy, roaring pirates carrying swords, boat hooks, spears and clubs poured over the rail onto the deck.

Sinie Haverts, former personal bodyguard of the Sultan of Kala, bellowed the guttural Kalan war cry over the wild confusion as steel flashed under a relentless sun and scuppers ran with blood. His scimitar sliced through the pate of the closest pirate, splitting it like a ripe melon. The roar of the battle cry and splattered brains checked the pirate surge for two long heartbeats.

Dar held the spear-like fishing gaff waist high with left hand and foot forward and right hand back. He jabbed the spiked end at a tall pirate rushing forward and punctured his chest. The pirate sank to his knees and blood blossomed across his chest. Dar opened his hips and darted out short, controlled thrusts at two other pirates to hold them at bay.

He could hear Sinie grunt as the scimitar found its mark with a heavy thud.

Dar feigned a face strike and stabbed at a pair of feet, sending a large pirate howling and rolling across the deck. He wheeled and flashed the gaff upwards, slicing into soft stomach flesh and spilling entrails on the deck.

The pirates retreated, leaving four men bleeding on a blood streaked deck. Sweat stung Dar’s eyes and the taste of salt and blood was in his mouth. He could hear Sinie gulping the hot sea air and panting.

‘Hold!’ commanded a voice from the poop deck.

A woman with flashing brown eyes glared down at Dar. Brown hair fell loosely to her shoulders, and the sun had tanned her olive skin a shade darker. War boots, black cotton pants and a black fitted shirt completed her outfit. A cutlass dangled from the wide leather belt cinched around her narrow waist.

She pointed at the group of cowering passengers, sailors, and the captain. ‘Drop your weapons, or I will toss these people into the sea and burn this ship to the waterline.’

‘Trust you, pirate?’ Dar’s mouth was dry as dust and he croaked a reply.

‘I’m the Navigator. Drop your weapons and save these wretches’ lives, or my crew will cut you down.’

‘Damn the Seven Bastard Sons of Kol!’ muttered Sinie.

Dar glanced at the wide-eyed passengers. The warriors lowered their weapons.

‘I hope you two can compensate for the crewmen you killed. You will replace them.’ Then, turning to the huddled passengers, she said, ‘All of you unload, and I’ll spare you.’
 

A pirate cut the red banner free from the rigging. It plunged and landed with a smack in the sea.

Outnumbered, Dar and Sinie were relieved of their weapons and ordered to help transfer the plunder. They sweated through the next hour, moving the merchant vessel’s cargo to the pirate ship.

The Navigator directed the offloading of goods, recording each item in a leather-bound book. She admonished the crew to take the smaller luxury goods first, such as fine oils, spices, gold and jewellery.

After finishing inventory, the Navigator stood barefoot on the deck, eyes closed, head lolling back. Her slender body swayed with the waves in a serene, trance-like state. Brown tresses brushed across high cheekbones and a red-lipped generous mouth set in an oval face. She had a firm chin and was as tall as Dar.

The merchant ship captain whispered to Dar as they worked that the Navigator had harried the coastline and merchant vessels near Epolis for over a year in her ship called the Wraith. There was a price on her head.

Dar watched the Navigator shake her head from side-to-side and knuckle her eyes. She blew on the whistle around her neck. The pirates hustled into the Wraith and readied to cast off.

Three pirates stayed onboard to sail the captured prize for sale. The Navigator ordered the passengers and sailors over the side into the water at cutlass point and cut loose a jolly boat.

The Navigator motioned to Dar.

‘Welcome to the Wraith. Come with me. I would dislike staining the deck with your blood.’

The point of a cutlass pricked Dar’s back. ‘These people will be unharmed?’

‘If they can swim.’

 

The Navigator led the way to her cabin. She seated herself at an ornately carved desk. The room’s semi-darkness obscured half her face.

The Navigator motioned for Dar to shut the door.

A weak beam of light entered through a lone window, unable to reach into the room’s corners. An unmade bunk bed and a side table flanked the desk. A goatskin water bag hung on the wall next to a rack of cutlasses.

The Navigator’s eyes glowed faintly. Dar sensed the intensity of her eyes rake over his face and body. The silence lasted more than a minute.

‘You and the Kalan cost me four good sailors.’

She stood up, moving her lithe body with strength and balance. It was how a lioness moved when prowling for a kill.

‘They call you Dar the Spearslayer.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘Yes.’

She tapped the nail of her index finger against strong white teeth. Dar let the silence fill the space between them.

‘Word is that the Three Nation Alliance tripled the bounty on you. Your head is a valuable prize. It is worth the equal of ten years’ labour to a man.’

‘How did you know who I was?’

‘It is said that Dar the Spearslayer, a Thessite, travels with a large Kalan traitor. I saw your friend’s Tattoos of Obedience showing fealty to the Sultan of Kala. Then. when I watched you wield the gaff like a spear ... it was obvious.’

She opened another small window in the cabin. A second shaft of light lit the room, erasing the gloom. The open window magnified the sound and smell of the ocean.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do with you yet,’ she said, answering his unspoken question. ‘Keep your Spearslayer identity to yourself or risk losing your head to a crew member after bounty money.’ She paused.

Because you want the bounty money?

‘Why are you here?’ she continued, stepping closer to Dar.

Dar reckoned her to be about his age. Faint, spidery lines shot out near her temples on the sides of her almond-shaped eyes. Her body was taut, and she exuded confidence. She was old enough to have experienced much and young enough to have the strength to use that experience to her benefit.

‘After the Battle of the River Golga, the Three Nation Alliance sold my daughter into slavery to one of the desert tribes. I seek to find her.’

‘That was ten years ago,’ she murmured, searching Dar’s face. ‘Why look now? How did you escape?’

‘Destroying the Spearslayer Sect erased a millennium of the warrior arts and sciences from the world. An Oscean commander spared my life. I learned what happened to Spearslayer families only recently.’

‘How old would your daughter be now?’

‘Seventeen. Desert tribes gather every year in Epolis. I want to be there. I want to find her.’

‘Epolis?’ the Navigator’s eyes flared. ‘I have vowed revenge against that accursed city. Like you, I lost my family. Now, I strike them where it hurts the most, in their purses. I raid their ships and strip them of their gold. I make them pay for what they did to my family.’

‘What did they do?’

She broke off her stare and relaxed her shoulders, sliding into the chair behind the desk. A brooding shadow crossed her oval face.

‘Talk gets us nowhere. We need to cut into shore, sell our plunder and prize ship. The crew must be fed and paid.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

The Navigator shuffled papers on her desk. ‘Dismissed,’ she said without looking up at Dar.

 

The next day melted into another as the Wraith plunged forward, shedding smooth waves off its waterline. Dar and Sinie slipped into the rhythm of work on the ship. Dar, with the Navigator’s ready approval and appreciation, used his Spearslayer training to administer to sick crew members.

Within the week, the Navigator had sold the merchant vessel as a prize and auctioned off its contents. Dar observed that the Navigator had a cadre of ready customers.

A handful of crewmembers ignored Dar and Sinie while an equal amount were talkative. A few pirates, angered by the deaths of their mates, grumbled and avoided the two new crew members.

It was from these conversations that Sinie learned the Sultan of Kala had branded him a traitor. He lustily cursed the fat potentate.

‘I have disgraced my family. What of my parents and sisters?’ he whispered fiercely. ‘Kalan warriors will come for me and hack my right arm off to show I disobeyed the Sultan.’

He sighed and continued, ‘We make our own decisions and live with the consequences. Know this, the Sultan’s men will come. They will always come until the day I die.’

‘Until the day we die,’ said Dar. He’d been listening to Sinie’s cursing and watching the Navigator out of the corner of his eye.

The Navigator spent brief snatches of time standing near the helmsman, with bare feet planted on the sunbaked wooden deck. Rolling in unison with the waves, she kept her eyes closed and, according to the sailors, sensed the undersea currents.

The Navigator opened her brown eyes and motioned to the helmsman to change course. Dar imagined the course change was to take advantage of what the sailors described as layered channels of water intersecting invisibility under the waves. These hidden channels could slingshot the nimble 120-foot craft forward at twice its usual speed.

The weather remained clear and the sea smooth. Sinie’s seasickness subsided. Whenever possible, he and Dar questioned crew members about Epolis or listened to their stories about the Navigator.

He was told the Navigator’s name was Deshellimasi—Masi for short—and she was the daughter of an Epolis merchant ship captain. They said her ability to sense the ocean, and the wind, was a gift from Mamo, the eight-armed Epolian God of the Sea.

She turned her hand to piracy when a group of powerful merchants put her father out of business because he wouldn’t conform to the merchant guild’s rules. The strain of the struggle killed him. His wife died shortly thereafter. Masi vowed revenge.

Masi sought Dar once or twice a day and questioned him about Spearslayers. She had a probing, inquisitive mind. She smiled little but when she did her jaw relaxed and her eyes twinkled. When Dar brought up the subject of Epolis, she waved it away, repeating that she was captain of this ship and would set its course.
 


‘You wanted to see me?’ He shut the captain’s cabin door.

A half-moon was visible through one of the two open windows, bathing the cabin in muted moonlight.

Dar inhaled the heady scent of perfume mingled with a fresh ocean breeze. A single candle flickered on the side table. Masi leaned against the cabin wall. The guttering candle sent shadowy shapes across the walls and made the Navigator’s eyes shine wetly. Shadows disappeared in the folds of her black silk robe, which stopped high on her smooth, supple legs. She glided close to Dar. He felt the sultry heat of her body.
She put a finger to Dar’s lips to quiet questions.

‘Tonight, I’m Masi and you are Dar.’

Dar watched her walk to the bed and slide in. She beckoned.

Later that night, they stood at a cabin window wrapped in a blanket. The Wraith trailed a phosphorescent tail while the stars beamed a silvery light down from the heavens. In conspiratorial whispers, they shared their stories of loss and pain. The words spoken were a comforting balm. For a moment, they believed with all their hearts that Dar would find his daughter and Masi would leave the pirate life.
 


The yelling and slapping of bare feet on the deck invaded Dar’s sleep. He blinked his eyes open in the dark cabin. He lay wrapped in blankets. The other side of the bed was still warm. The sun had yet to reveal itself in the eastern sky.

Masi wore a black shirt and pants with war boots, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She grabbed a cutlass off the rack and ran a thumb along its edge.

She crossed the room in two strides and kissed Dar long and hard on the lips.

‘We are under attack.’

She hurried on deck. Dar picked his shirt and pants off the plank floor, dressed, and climbed on deck.

He watched as the red glow of morning lit the clouds, casting a pale pink colour across the ship. Dar picked up the wicked-looking fishing gaff.

‘Oscean galley coming up fast,’ said Sinie, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Sinie peered over the blue expanse of water, reflecting the red light of dawn. ‘Make that three galleys.’ The big Kalan paused and added, ‘How did you sleep last night?’

The morning sun burnished the brightly painted red and gold Oscean galleys as they leaped forward with each oar pull, before coiling for the next leap over the sea. A carved likeness of Mamo, the eight-armed sea god, decorated their prows. There was not a puff of air and the Wraith’s canvas lay slack.

The Navigator threw off her boots and leaped to the deck next to the helmsman. She stood barefoot, as if in a dream state. She directed the Wraith into the faster moving, unseen water currents and channels racing under its hull.

Dar watched the Navigator roll with the rhythm of ship and sea. The Wraith wallowed on the windless ocean. She snapped her eyes open, and he heard her say to the helmsman, ‘We have no wind and the currents are unfavourable. The galleys are upon us.’

Dar observed that the lead galley had far outstripped its two companions and would be engaging with the Wraith in minutes.

Behind him, he heard the Navigator shout orders, ‘Clear the decks! Prepare for battle!’

Sweat rolled down Dar’s flanks. He pulled off his linen shirt, already soaked with sweat, revealing sinewy muscles, ridged and hard as iron.

Dar hailed the Navigator from among the swirl of sailors. ‘Taking the fight to them is our only chance.’

‘There’s three of them. There’s no wind and the currents run toward shore. Our fate is sealed.’

‘We ride the currents and take on each galley in turn. That gives us a chance. If we move fast.’

‘Not much of a chance, by Mamo,’ replied the Navigator through clenched teeth.

She cupped her mouth with her hands and shouted, ‘Helmsman, come about. We attack the first galley. If we go down, we go down with bloody blades!’

The crew cheered as the Wraith closed the gap with the lead galley so fast that the Oscean vessel was slow to ship its oars. The bow of the Wraith slammed into the galley, cracking and splintering the starboard oars, producing snaps like thunderclaps. Pirates crawled over the side behind her as The Navigator leaped onto the galley’s deck. A terrible keening war cry pierced the air amidst the whirl of flashing blades and shouted curses. Gaunt and scarred slave oarsmen pleaded to be unshackled before the galley sank.

Dar sidestepped to avoid a club strike and beat down a thrusting cutlass before swinging the fishing gaff like a hammer in a great sweeping arc, smashing the sideways spike into an Oscean sailor. The sun climbed the sky until it heated the air on deck oven-hot. Sweat beaded on Dar’s arms and back. His throat parched, Dar’s lean thews were tiring from swinging the gaff, ripping into flesh and smashing bone. He twisted his body, avoiding a short sword jab, and smashed the gaff’s spike through bone and cartilage into a sailor’s chest with a crack, followed by the sucking sound of a punctured lung.

The galley captain cut through the cacophony with a whistle blast to rally a unit of soldiers and press them into action.

Assuming the Spearslayer attack-ready position, Dar knocked an advancing soldier’s short sword aside and quick-stepped forward, sending the gaff’s spike into his neck. The spurting blood added to the gore on the slick deck.

Flaming pitch balls streaked across the blue sky and rained down on the Wraith, bouncing across the decks of the two ships. The second galley had hauled off and was catapulting the pitch balls at the melee, where they smouldered on the dry timbers and tarred ropes. Soon, a thick, heavy, oil-black smoke engulfed the Wraith.

Licking dry lips, Dar shouted, ‘Take the galley! Take the galley!’

The last few pirates leaped from the burning wreck of the Wraith onto the galley deck. An Oscean soldier grabbed Dar’s gaff and wrenched it from his sweaty hands. Dar yanked out his dagger and struck hard and low, feeling cold steel slicing through warm flesh before raking the blade upwards until he hit bone.

Suddenly, Dar heard the deep rhythmic drum beats of the second galley’s hortator—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—directing the rowers to quicken the galley’s oar stroke to ramming speed.

With a shuddering crack of wood and a shower of splinters, the second galley raced forward and slammed its prow-mounted lead battering ram into the first galley’s hull. The impact knocked combatants off their feet as the shackled slaves’ cries and curses rose above the sound of clashing weapons. The second galley’s corvus, a rotatable and descending bridge controlled by pulleys, crashed down on onto the first galley with its beak-like iron spike punching a hole through the deck and locking the two galleys together. It anchored the vessels together, providing a bridge for attackers to board the ship and engage with the enemy.

Helmeted Oscean soldiers with round shields and short, stabbing swords dashed across the bridge. Yelling a challenge with the fierce joy of combat, the roaring, battle-maddened Kalan hacked his way to the end of the corvus and swung his blood red scimitar in a figure eight, daring soldiers to attack. The corvus was soon littered with bodies and slick with blood and brains.

Dar caught a glimpse through a maelstrom of steel at the Navigator, skewering a soldier through the stomach. She put her foot on the soldier’s chest and yanked out her cutlass. Rivulets of blood rolled down the blade.

Outnumbered, the Osceans retreated while the pirates and rowers pressed their advantage. The galley captain exhorted his soldiers for another dash across the bridge to dislodge the Kalan.

Dar shouldered his way through the throng of wide-eyed slaves as the Navigator chivvied the released rowers forward to board the second galley with slaps of the flat side of her cutlass. He could hear her exhorting them.

‘You’re free! Now fight like free men!’ She raised her cutlass, waving it toward the second galley.

Dar moved like a panther and leaped next to Sinie at the corvus.

‘We’re sinking. We need to take this second galley. Follow me.’

Dar, with gaff gripped in both hands, ran across the bridge onto the second galley, thrusting the gaff into the nearest soldier’s face. He felt impact and saw a red mist before flashing by. He heard Sinie’s boots drum the wooden bridge behind him. Setting his hips, he swung the gaff around, sweeping it low, ripping the side spike across two soldier’s legs, collapsing them on the bloody deck screaming and cursing.

The Oscean soldiers retreated and formed a line along the starboard side, shield to shield. Enraged slaves led by Masi brandishing a bloody cutlass streamed across the bridge as greasy, choking black smoke billowed in the merciless sunshine. The water was stained red and boiled around the burning ships.

Dar paused to catch his breath and heard the Navigator deliver sharp orders to the rowers in the second galley to disengage the ram and pull away from the burning galley.

The Oscean soldiers dropped their weapons and pitched themselves over the side. The third galley picked up survivors before reversing oars and pulling away from the battle scene to the jeers of the slaves.

The Navigator marshalled Sinie and the sailors to lift and toss off the corvus and let it sink with the first galley. The Wraith burned lustily nearby.

Half a hundred people crowded the captured second galley deck. The slaves, gaunt, hard eyed, and hungry, devoured the galley’s food stores. The crew splashed buckets of seawater across the decks to wash the blood away.

‘I’m renaming the galley Victory. It’ll do until I can get another Epolian Sling.’ Turning, Dar locked eyes with the Navigator. Hair wild and clothes torn, she looked like a sea demon. ‘Come ride the waves with me. Together we’d be unstoppable.’ She grinned and her eyes were wide.

‘Leave this life. Is your thirst for revenge not slaked?’ said Dar.

‘Go where and do what? I have a crew that depends on me.’ She frowned.

‘I need to reach Epolis for the desert tribes’ gathering, to find my daughter.’

She smiled sadly, relaxing her firm jaw for a moment. Then she turned away to organize repairs to the Victory and assign lookouts in case the third galley returns.
 


Night descended like a thick black curtain while stars poked holes through the velvety darkness. The jumble of stars looked like sparks from a flint floating in the sky. At dusk, Dar had seen shorebirds and now the air was heavy with the smell of earth. A faint light to the starboard side half a league away reflected dully off a sea so flat it looked like glass.

The Navigator gestured toward the faint light and said, ‘Epolis.’

Dar gazed into her smouldering brown eyes. She brushed her lips against his cheek. ‘I will pray to Mamo that you find your daughter.’

‘I will pray you find what you seek.’

She turned and walked with chin to chest across the deck, nodding to Sinie as she passed.
Dar slipped over the side into a small, round, lightweight boat. He steadied it against the galley’s red and gold hull as Sinie squeezed into the little craft.

Dar paddled the coracle toward shore in silence.

He looked back once. The Victory was gone, swallowed by the obsidian darkness of the night.


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