“This is a terrible fuckin’ idea,” Magnar huffed.
“Quiet, brother. You’re too loud.”
Kel’dhos, peering through a cracked board of a crumbling house, couldn’t help but grin at Magnar’s attempt at a whisper.
“We’re too far away if anything were to happen,” Telerek whispered. He was crouched next to Kel’dhos, arrow nocked as he watched out of a broken window.
They were all spying on a cloaked figure gliding across the rocky ground. Beyond, a dark lighthouse towered over the harbor, standing at the end of a long stony walkway near the pier.
“Relax, Tel,” Kel’dhos heard Beltayne mutter from beside the window. “I shall not let anything happen to Val the Shifter.”
“Please stop calling her that,” Telerek growled.
The plan was simple—simple enough that Kel’dhos knew something was bound to go wrong. Valeriek was to don Rythela’s cloak and clothes and meet whomever the necromancer was to meet at the lighthouse called Ala’cul.
So, here he was. Waiting in a deserted fishing village at the edge of the bay with his companions. Kel’dhos peered around the room which seemed to languish under its own rot: a three-legged table drooped lazily, a splintered door rested sadly on the ground, and there were plenty of holes and soggy planks filling out the floor. The whole place seemed to have given up long before they arrived.
Telerek did say this place was abandoned for many years, Kel’dhos thought to himself.
Fingers of silver light reached through the cloudy evening sky, touching the glassy sea beyond. Then, a ripple in the gentle waters caught Kel’dhos’ eye. A lone ship moving slowly toward the docks. Toward Val.
“So,” began Magnar. “How long are we hidin’ in these damn busted houses?”
Magnus shot a look at the barbarian. “I told you already, brother. Val is pretty convincing in Rythela’s garb. I have no doubts the person she was to meet will show.”
“And then…?” asked the barbarian, folding his arms.
“Then we wait for the signal from Val.”
Kel’dhos agreed with Telerek. Now that they were in position, he did feel they were too far away to help Val quickly.
“Maybe… We should find a way to get a little closer, Magnus?” Kel’dhos asked, rubbing his hands together as he watched the dwarven brothers.
Magnus looked from Kel’dhos to the disguised Val at edge of the cobbled street and the dock. A light flickered weakly atop the giant lighthouse—a poor excuse of beacon. “Aye. Let’s move closer.”
Telerek looked to the sky. “We’re in luck. Move now.” He stowed his bow then crept out of the derelict abode.
Kel’dhos looked through the window up at the clouds, watching them morph and twist in front of the moon, casting a dark shadow over the village. He waited for the others to filter out of the house before he followed. He looked skyward as he moved, thanking Sioch for keeping the moon tucked behind the clouds. Telerek led the sneaking group from one ramshackle structure to the next before reaching the last one at the edge of the open road between them and the dock.
Telerek crouched, signaling the others to come closer. “Wait here,” he breathed, then squeezed through the bottom half of a broken wall and disappeared.
“What is he doing?” hissed Magnus. “He’s going to be seen.”
Kel’dhos peeked around the other side of the house. Val stood in the middle of the cobbled walkway just before the dock began. A bell chimed three times as a ship slowed in the harbor. Not long after, the sound of oars rushing through the water grew louder, before a group of silhouettes climbed up onto the dock from a small boat. Val perked up at the sight, shuffling her feet.
Kel’dhos’ stomach twisted like a knotted rope as he watched the shadowy figures descend the gangplank to the dock. A single torch flared to life, the flame dancing in the darkness. His breathing hastened. I don’t like this… He motioned behind him and Magnus appeared.
“What is it?” whispered the wizard.
“People are coming,” Kel’dhos said. “There looks to be four of them.”
Kel’dhos and Magnus continued to watch as the four unknown figures reached Val, torchlight catching their bald heads, crooked faces and a woman built like a tavern brawler. Each one looked plenty capable of tearing Val in half.
The air was still, save for the sound of water breaking on the shore and docks. Kel’dhos craned his neck, listening intently.
“Are you the one called Rythela?” barked the first man. He pushed his torch closer to Val. Kel’dhos noticed his beard was a mangled mess and he wore no shirt under his dark vest.
“I—I am,” stammered Val.
The woman thug scowled at the uncertain words, the muscle rippling in her forearms as she balled her fists.
The thug cocked his head and grinned. Even at this distance, it was evident the man had far less teeth than he should. “The Captain said you was dangerous… but you don’t look it.”
Val revealed Rythela’s gnarled staff, stamping it on the ground beside her, the skull displayed atop the mangled piece of wood. “Looks can be deceiving.”
The group of pirates shuddered, taking a step backward, and the smile faded from the leader’s face as his knuckles paled, torch shaking. “Aye… that they can…”
Kel’dhos caught sight of a large tattoo on one of the last two men. It crawled from his right breast to his waist. The last man was smaller than the others and hid behind the hulking woman.
Silence returned as the group of pirates warily watched Val and her staff. After a short time, the leader seemed to have gathered his nerves and stepped forward. “Follow me, Mistress…”
As he began to turn, Val blurted something which Kel’dhos could not hear. The man stopped in his tracks and eyed her suspiciously. “You said what now?”
“I have some people who will be joining us.” Val tapped the staff nervously.
“The Captain didn’t say anything about you bringing extra bodies with you.”
“We—Well, I… I did.” Val’s threatening façade—if she was capable of one—was beginning to crumble. She continued to stammer over herself, trying to explain and then cloaked figure appeared from the shadows of stacked crates at the edge of the docks. The leader snarled and the pirates shouted, reaching for their blades.
“Easy, easy!” The cloaked figure threw up his hands. “I’m with the necromancer here.”
Telerek… What are you doing? Kel’dhos’ heart thudded against his chest.
The pirate leader’s sword was halfway out of its scabbard when he looked at Val. She nodded in return and held a hand out to the figure. “This is one of the people I mentioned.”
“Myself and a few others are mercenaries who happened upon the necromancer,” Telerek explained. Kel’dhos knew the wood elf was cunning and deceptive, but he’d never seen him this smooth before. “Lucky for us, she spared us and offered us a hefty sum of gold to help her with this particular task. Now, please. Put those swords away so we can get on the move.”
The sound of sheathing steel hissed in the harbor breeze. Val nodded at her cousin and stepped forward. “I am ready. Take me to the ship.”
Kel’dhos and the others revealed themselves as Telerek motioned for them. When they reached the dock, the pirate waved the torch in front of them, getting a good look at their faces. He snorted and spat at Magnar’s feet. “Whatever. I’ll let the captain deal with this nonsense.” He spun and walked away down the pier.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kel’dhos saw Magnus put a hand on his brother’s hairy arm and whisper to him. Magnar’s face screwed up, jaw clenching. A breath escaped Kel’dhos as he and the others set off after Val and the pirates.
The short boat ride to the pirate ship was a quiet one. Everyone was so crammed together that they all had twitching hands grasping their weapons. Kel’dhos caught himself bouncing his foot and shifted uneasily. His eyes darted between the pirates, noticing the woman had two different colored eyes—one a dull grey and the other a vibrant blue. Kel’dhos’ nervous eyes jumped from Eyes to another pirate with scarred burn marks dotting his chest and stomach, as if he had been prodded with a hot poker. The man beside Burn Scars bore the menacing tattoo: a great sea beast—a kraken if Kel’dhos’ studies served him well—with its tentacles coiling about all over his flesh. And then there was the leader of these nameless bunch. Leader’s black vest had no symbols or markings and he sat there, staring at Val, his eyes never leaving the disguised elf.
The ship loomed higher with every oar stroke—far larger than Kel’dhos had expected. His stomached knotted as the small boat reached the massive vessel. Many faces peered over the side of the main deck, watching Kel’dhos and the others approach. A rope ladder was tossed over the side, dangling down in front of them.
“You lot wait here,” Leader said, letting his comrades begin their ascent. “We go first. Then you.” After the third pirate made it halfway up, he turned and scurried up, reaching the deck in no time.
“Am I to wait down here all night?” Val shouted up to the figures staring down.
A voice that was not Leader’s called down to them. “You may join us.” It was a raspy, gravelly tone and sounded harsher than their pirate escort.
Magnus went first calculating each gras. Magnar’s weight pulled on the ladder as he brutishly pulled at each rung. Beltayne climbed without trouble followed by Kel’dhos. At the top, Kel’dhos found himself and the others surrounded by no less than fifteen rough looking pirates. An old human man stood at the front of the pirate half-circle. He wasn’t too imposing. Grey hair dominated his face, though it thinned atop his head, showing his age. He wore a tattered black cloth that wrapped around his head, covering his left eye.
Looks like he’s the one in charge, Kel’dhos thought to himself.
Telerek cleared the ladder with Val close behind. She stood and produced Rythela’s staff once more. Each pirate squirmed at the sight of the magical item.
Greybeard stepped forward, one hand behind his back, the other resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword. He squinted his good eye and stared Val up and down. He let out a heavy sigh. “Who the hells are you?” His coarse voice scraped at Kel’dhos. It was unsettling.
“I am—am Rythela.” Val seemed to falter, stuttering as she lowered her gaze.
The grey bearded pirate smiled wide—surprisingly, he had most of his teeth—and chuckled. “Hmm… Yes, and I’m the God of the Open Ocean. No. Wait. I’m Rhante the God of Destiny!” A booming chorus of laughter rocked the deck of the ship.
“I think we may be found out, brother,” Magnar said.
“What gave you that idea?” Magnus’ hand slowly entered his satchel and he took a half-step backward.
Greybeard let the laughter die down before gesturing to the crooked staff in Val’s hand. “I have to be honest—I’m going to miss the necromancer. Her usefulness can’t go unstated.” The pirate slowly shook his head, making a clicking noise with his mouth. “This makes me upset, very upset. I cannot have you interfering in my dealings any longer…”
“What dealings?” Telerek said, hands twitching. “Who are you?”
Greybeard narrowed his single eye at Telerek. “Do I know you, elf? You seem familiar.”
Telerek hesitated, a tremor shuddered through his left hand as it disappeared within his cloak. “My question first, Greybeard.”
“Ha! You’re in no position to be barking orders, dog,” Greybeard huffed. He turned his back on Telerek, and the pirate horde parted as he approached. “Call me Greybeard. I rather like that name.” He faded into the crowd, leaving Kel’dhos and the others staring down snarling pirates.
Has Telerek encountered this pirate captain before? Surely Telerek would’ve recognized the man if he had…
There was little time for thought as the pirates drew their swords, axes and clubs. Each one took a cautious step forward, a fiery fury building in their eyes.
Telerek’s hand whipped from under his cloak, spraying two small knives at the nearest pirates. One buried deep into a man’s throat while the other slammed into the bare stomach of another.
Then chaos reigned.
Screams and battle cries split the air as Kel’dhos ripped his mace free from his belt, hefting it high to catch an overhead slash. The blade slipped down the shaft of his mace, catching near the head. A boot slammed into his gut, launching him backward into the railing of the ship.
Kel’dhos rolled, propping himself up on a knee, the alabaster pendant around his neck flared a radiant gold. With a grunt, he raised the steel-headed mace, striking his attacker’s knee, cracking bone. The pirate wailed as Kel’dhos threw his hand out. A golden flash struck the man in the chest, tossing him backward into another pirate, both collapsing to the ground.
Kel’dhos ducked a bloodied pirate sailed past him, smashing into a crate. Heaving and wide eyed, he scanned the deck. Magnar’s armor was holding firm, as he took blow after blow from pirates surrounding him. The dwarf let loose a guttural roar and crushed a pirate’s head before a club took him across the face, blood spraying. The air caught fire as two blazing arcs streaked past Kel’dhos, consuming the pirate who had struck Magnar. The inferno snuffed out the agonizing screams of the dying man. With one steaming hand outstretched—the other still firmly planted within his bag—Magnus confidently strode the deck, launching arc after arc of fire.
Beltayne fended off two pirates. He caught one strike with his shield and pierced the arm of another with Winter’s Bite—the blade seemed to sing in delight. A third pirate grabbed the knight from behind, yanking the shield from his hands, opening the door for a club to smash into his chest, knocking him back a step.
Telerek had cast aside his bow and moved swiftly from one enemy to the next, delivering rapid strikes with his bloodied blades. He jumped and spun but caught a sword to the back. The rogue fell to the ground and rolled, popping back up to his feet, his cloak growing darker where the blade bit into him.
A terrifying, feral roar prickled the hairs on Kel’dhos’ neck as a black panther leapt at Telerek’s attacker, tackling him to the ground. Blood streaked from the claws of the animal as Val raked the pirate. She tore the apple from his throat before launching herself at her next victim.
“King of Pirates! Face me now!”
Beltayne bounded up the stairs onto the quarterdeck, two bodies sprawled in his wake. The knight bore cuts in his cloak, but his armor held only faint scratches. His sword raised at Greybeard, who stood near the ship’s helm, wearing a deep scowl.
A shirtless pirate flew through the air and over the side of the ship, Magnar cackled as he hefted his hammer onto his shoulder, watching with glee as a hissing flame consumed another thug in front of him—Magnus stood beside his brother wearing a devious smirk.
Panther-Val, bleeding from several lacerations, had cornered three pirates, weapons discarded at their feet, hands visible in defeat. Telerek was knelt down, grabbing his back in agony.
Sioch… Guide me. Heal these friends of mine from their wounds, lest they fester… Peace is at hand…
Kel’dhos’ pendant blazed a white-gold and floated gently outward from his chest. He closed his eyes and held out his hands, palm upward, as a flash of brilliant light burst forth from the stone, bathing his companions in a healing light.
When he opened his eyes, Kel’dhos saw his companions reinvigorated. He quickly looked to the helm. Beltayne slapped Greybeard’s blade off trajectory and riposted with a lethal lunge, piercing the old man in the chest. Greybeard grasped the steel as his knees buckled under him. Kel’dhos rushed up the stairs just as Beltayne let the dead Greybeard slumped to the wood below.
“Beltayne!” Kel’dhos shouted, grabbing the snow elf by the shoulder. “Are you injured?”
“No, Small-Ears. I am fine.” Beltayne turned to face him.
Magnus appeared beside them. “Well, did you get any information from him?”
“No,” replied Beltayne, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at the dead pirate. “He left me no choice. He would not lay down his weapon… and I tried to miss his heart. But it seems my knightly abilities would not allow it.” Beltayne smiled as he dangled a key in front of Magnus’ face. “This key from his belt seems important, though.”
Magnus snatched the key from the knight’s grasp. “He’s not a king, Beltayne. Just some scoundrel. And don’t trouble yourself. A man like that wasn’t going to surrender.” The dwarf wizard turned to descend the stairs “Let’s find the Captain’s quarters. Surely we’ll find something there.”
When the three reached the main deck, they found Telerek, Val and Magnar surrounding three pirates, who were sitting on the ground with their hands bound behind their backs.
“…transporting s—slaves,” stammered one of the captives.
“Where,” asked a crouched Telerek, face inches from the man.
“I—I don’t know—ungh.”
Telerek’s hand flashed quickly, smacking the pirate in the face. Kel’dhos flinched then made to intervene. Magnus held out an arm, stopping him. He met the wizard’s gaze and saw a look of trust. Kel’dhos loosened the grip on his mace and turned his attention back to the captives.
“Try again,” sneered Telerek.
The captive flinched at the words. “Detritus. We were taking them to Mhistana Detritus.”
Kel’dhos lurched, hand covering his mouth. Father… the Detritus… This couldn’t be a coincidence. Highwarden Blacktide told Kel’dhos—after his duel with Beltayne—of a well-known ship Captain named Torian. He’d said Kel’dhos’ father and his companions, the Heralds of Sioch, paid for passage to the Mhistana Detritus. Their reason was left unknown. The lost relic of Sioch must be there somewhere. There’s no other reason father would risk going to such a place.
“Hey,” Magnar boomed, pulling Kel’dhos from his thoughts. “That’s the place that dead lady mentioned. The one back at the quarry tower.”
“Aye,” agreed Telerek. “What’s there? Why are slaves being sent to the Detritus? There’s nothing but ruin and death there.”
“I don’t—I don’t know,” the pirate flinched once more as Telerek raised a hand, but decided against hitting the captive. “I swear! I swear! We’re just tasked with passage! We know nothing of the dealings in that damned place once we drop them off.”
Telerek growled as he bolted to his feet. He spun and rubbed his chin in thought, then noticed Val—still a panther—licking herself near the stairs to the ship’s hold. The rogue gave her a dirty look and shook his head, then turned backed to the captives. “I want to slit their throats and dump them in the ocean with the rest of the bodies…”
“No…” blurted Kel’dhos. “No. We will not kill captives.”
“I am in agreement with Kel’dhos,” Magnus said. “It doesn’t feel right.”
Telerek wheeled around on the wizard. “You know what doesn’t feel right? Throwing that cursed fire around on a wooden ship! Are you daft?”
Magnus’ shoulders sunk as the realization washed over his face, which paled remarkably.
“Fire is splendid,” Telerek said. “Just maybe not aboard a tinderbox of a ship. You’re lucky I was able to get the fire you kindled put out before it took over the whole ship.” The rogue paused and took a deep breath. “You did well, Magnus… But as I was saying, we have to do something with the pirates.”
Beltayne cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I say we let the gods decide.”
Everyone turned to look at the knight. His flowing white hair rustled in the ocean breeze, his smile growing. He looked over his shoulder at the pirate captives. Each of them were gasping for air, eyes bulging at the conversation they overheard. “We’ll dump them into a rowboat once we make good distance from shore.”
“That’s not much of ‘letting the gods decide,’ Bel,” Magnar said, scratching his head, brow furrowed.
“They’ll get only one oar, Magnar,” Beltayne said. He folded his arms and stuck out his chest. “If they are meant to live, then they’ll find a way back to land.”
Telerek chuckled and walked over to the captives. “You hear that? Guess you’ll find out if the gods have mercy.”
Kel’dhos exhaled softly. Thank Sioch for Beltayne. The gods will render judgement… not us.
***
Kel’dhos, Magnus and Beltayne released the slaves confined below deck in the dank ship hold. When it was all said and done, there were twenty slaves altogether. Emotions were high among the newly freed: crying, laughing, cheering. Many of them thanked Kel’dhos after he’d helped heal minor injuries.
“Thank Sioch,” Kel’dhos told them. “For I am merely a conduit for his divine power.”
The slaves came from all over Eridan. A few from Ridgeton and the others from smaller settlements along the coastline of Mortas Bay. Surprisingly, Beltayne recruited a few of the able-bodied men to help sail the ship on the voyage to Mhistana Detritus. Once they were done being questioned, the freed slaves who did not wish to help sail, left the ship and melted into the darkness of the crumbling village.
“We found a map!” hollered Magnar from the front of the ship. Telerek stood beside him, examining a large parchment.
Kel’dhos took a moment to finally examine the ship. It looked to be in good condition. One massive mast rose high into the air from the center of the main deck, stairs sat at each end of the deck. One set at the rear ascended to a raised deck—Kel’dhos had read enough books to know this was the quarterdeck. At the front, the bow, the stairs rose to the deck above the forecastle—or fo’c’sle, if one was so inclined to write it that way. The sails were down, but appeared to be in good condition.
Seems these pirates were the successful sort, Kel’dhos thought. “Sioch, let this ship serve us well in our journey. For it may be a perilous one.”
Beltayne scoffed, waving dismissively. “Silly Half-Ears… Everyone knows the Lady of the Endless Winter will be the goddess to bless our voyage, not your Sioch.”
“Tell me, Bel,” Kel’dhos said after he’d finished his prayer. “How will a winter goddess keep us safe on the open seas? Would not the God of Peace be a better choice?”
Beltayne seemed in deep thought. He scrunched up his nose and cocked his head. “Hmm… No.”
“You’re impossible.” Kel’dhos rolled his eyes, mouth curving into a slight smile.
Kel’dhos took time to check on his companions to make sure his healing during the battle had done its job. Thankfully, only minor wound curing was needed, mainly for Magnar since he seemed to always take the brunt of the attacks.
Meanwhile, the freed men worked hard, checking line, sails and other components needed to keep the ship afloat and moving. Once preparations were complete, the ship shoved off from the dock, gliding gently on the glassy water toward the darkness of the open sea.
End of Chapter