Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)

[talien]

Walking down Wave street, it was immediately apparent that they were far removed from the squalor and desperation that characterized most of Freeport. The impetus of that removal was most certainly wealth: the greed and avarice that drove Freeport was manifest in luxury and ostentatious display.

“So this is how the other half lives,” said Kham.

The eyes of numerous private guards arrayed in tailored livery watched them carefully. Camring moved ahead of Kham with a confidence that belied his earlier scramble amid the grime and filth of the Docks.

“Hello Camring, brought some friends with you I see,” said one of them.

“Strays, you mean,” said Camring with a grin. “And they just won’t stop following me.”

He led them through the Plaza di Oro, with its spending fountain and statue of Larissa.

Kham stopped to face the fountain. “The Fountain of Fortune. I’ve heard of it but never saw it before.” He fished a coin out of his pouch and flicked it into the water.

“Why would you waste perfectly good gold like that?” asked Beldin.

“For luck,” said Vlad.

“Stupid human custom,” said Ilmarė.

They moved through the smaller Plaza di Plata, home of the Guilt Club, to a fine stone, wood, and brick manse built in the Milandisian style. It had a high-pitched, blue slate roof, white-washed exterior walls, and tall, narrow windows. The windows had stout wooden shutters painted with blue trailing flowers. The recessed front door was reminiscent of a barbican.

“Looks like a castle to me,” said Beldin.

Three large, thick-necked Milandisians in half-plate armor and bearing halberds stood before an impressive yellowwood door. They glared at them as they passed.

Beyond the door was a high-ceilinged hall with a floor of hand-painted ceramic tiles. Hanging from the ceiling on a thick brass chain was a large, yellow glass globe. The light from the globe suffused the chamber in a rich, golden glow.

Brilliantly colored and vibrant tapestries depicted galleys and coiling sea serpents along the walls. Brass dolphin sconces held citrus-scented candles between the tapestries. In the center of the room was a tiled pattern in the shape of a great compass rose.

A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with long, curling ebony hair stood at the center of the room. His resemblance to Camring and Emric was unmistakable. He was clad in a sea green doublet of velvet over a fine bleached white linen shirt. The borders of the doublet were edged with an elaborate design of interwoven gold and silver thread embroidery. Two silver cockleshell brooches closed the throat of his doublet. Knee-length breeches of sea green dyed moleskin, white hose, and fine leather shoes completed the ensemble.

“Nephew,” Thralen said in a voice accustomed to obedience, “introduce me to your friends.”

Vlad stepped forward and inclined his head slightly. “I am Vlad Martell, in the service of the Milandisian government. I was sent on a mission that involves your house. These are my companions at arms.”

“A pleasure,” said Thralen, returning the bow. “I am Thralen val’Ossan. Thank you for returning Camring safely.” His features narrowed in irritation. “He has a habit of…wandering off. Come, let us speak in my study.”

[talien]

Thralen led them to a room set with three tall narrow windows of translucent alabaster. The windows bathed the room with a soft golden light.

Thralen ensconced himself behind a large, comfortably padded leather chair. As they made themselves comfortable, Camring unceremoniously swept a pile of ledgers and scrolls off a shelf. With a rather dejected sigh, he hopped onto the shelf.

A pretty young Milandisian maidservant brought in a platter filled with ceramic cups, a dragon-shaped clay pitcher of wine, a bowl of pickled olives, dates and figs, a small jar of spiced fish paste, and several loaves of sweet white bread.

“Please,” said Thralen, “I will play the proper host. Break bread with me and be welcome in my home. You are my guests. Tell me of this mission and how you came to return my nephew to me.”

Calactyte took the bowl of pickled olives and downed the entire contents in one gulp. Ilmarė took one slice of bread from the tray.

Vlad leaned forward, deadly serious. “There are rumors that your House has been compromised. Someone is readily supplying pirates with details pertaining the movements of the Milandisian naval patrols. They suspect your security has been breached.”

The maid, who was turning to pour Vlad a cup of wine, nearly spilled it into his lap. Thralen’s eyebrows shot up.

“A spy? In my house? While I appreciate your concern, I trust all my servants implicitly. If there was a spy here, I would know it.”

The maidservant excused herself to clean up the mess.

“Way to keep the mission secret,” said Ilmarė.

Kham grabbed the bottle of wine and took a swig. “On a more immediate note…does Camring have a twin?”

“Pardon?”

“A twin. We picked up a child floating amongst the debris of the Black Egret just yesterday who is a spitting image of Camring. His name was Emric. Ring any bells?”

Thrlaen steepled his fingers. “Intriguing. I wonder if perhaps he is not some distant relation. The val’Ossan’s have been sailing the Pale Sea for centuries. Hundreds, if not thousands of illegitimate val’Ossan progeny have been cast upon the tides to settle where they may. Certainly, one bearing a resemblance to Camring would be rare, but it is not impossible.”

“He doesn’t just bear a resemblance,” said Ilmarė in irritation. “He’s a twin, down to the mole on his cheek.”

“A twin is impossible,” said Thralen. “Camring’s father, my brother Carius, was quite admired by the ladies, but he had eyes only for Tivatia.”

“Who is this Tivatia?” asked Bijoux.

“Tivatia Ossan-Drac was a scion of House Drac, descended from the Great Corsair Drac. She was also a devoted servant and priestess of Yarris.”

“Duty between a god and a mortal,” said Ilmarė. “Difficult choice.”

Thralen nodded. “She was ever torn between her duty to the Drac name and her duty to her religion. Plagued by sadness, the love of her husband and child could not sustain her. She took ill and died while Camring was still a babe.”

A chill wind whipped through the room, despite the fact that no windows were open.

“I know of Carius,” said Vlad. “He was active in Milandir and died at the Battle of Jerrold’s Bridge.”

It became so cold in the room that everyone’s breath came out in misty wisps.

“Unseasonable weather,” said Bijoux.

“Ah yes,” said Thralen, visibly disturbed. “The ceramic tile that covers the floors of the house does not always distribute the heat correctly.”

Beldin snorted. “The floor’s made of burnished yellowwood,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth to Sebastian. “Tile doesn’t do that.”

Kham cleared his throat. “About that other boy…”

“Emric, you say? I have only recently learned that Captain Blax seeks to stop Camring’s ascension to the throne of the Sea Lord. If the boy is a mirror image of Camring, it must be a case of mistaken identity. They kidnapped the wrong child.”

“Good,” said Ilmarė, “so we can all go home then.”

Thralen frowned. “I have never met Captain Blax personally, but she has a reputation as a ruthless and fearsome pirate. If she truly has the boy, I fear for his safety. When she discovers that Emric is not Camring…”

“…he will become a Ymandragorian slave,” finished Sebastian.

“But enough of this. You are in no shape to conduct any rescues today. Come, dine with me and rest here. If you’ll excuse me, I must get dressed for dinner. My servants will show you to your quarters.” And with that, Thralen left the room.

The maidservant returned. Beldin handed her a small pouch.

“Do you know how to cook this?” he asked.

The maid peered into the bag and nodded. Cal gulped down an entire loaf of bread.

“Good,” said Beldin. “I’ll eat it however you prepare it.”

“Dinner?” asked the ss’ressen.

“Yes, it looks like we’ll be staying for dinner. Try not to eat all of it,” said Ilmarė.

[talien]

Dinner was a sumptuous affair, though Thralen decried it as a simple meal, not quite up to the standards of the household.

They all dug into the first course. Cal continued to gulp down marinated green and black olives, which he apparently had never tasted before until stepping foot in the val’Ossan home.

The second course caused their eyes to light up. Bijoux enjoyed the cold smoked salmon. Ilmarė tasted the six-grain bread with honey butter. Everyone else ate the spinach salad and hard-boiled eggs. Except for Beldin.

Five bight yellow strips were placed before the dwarf on a small plate. He took a fork and speared one.

Cal sniffed at him from across the table. “Fish?”

“No,” said Beldin. “Sea urchin.”

“What are you doing?” asked Vlad as he watched the dwarf savor the first bite. “That looks like little yellow tongues.”

“Getting revenge,” he replied with a satisfied smile. The taste was sweet and fresh—almost floral, with the aroma of rose petals.

The third course brought more smoked herring for Bijoux, traditional Skohiir rye flatbread for Ilmarė, and sausages cooked in ale for everyone else. Cal sampled everything, although he was a bit more restrained. Kham mostly just drank wine.

“My agents are out searching for Emric now,” said Thralen. “I am hopeful to have some news before the morning as to where they might be keeping him. We must get to him before Captain Blax discovers he is not Camring.”

“Agreed,” said Vlad.

After dinner they adjourned to a tastefully decorated salon with windows overlooking the house gardens and the jungles of A’val beyond. Thralen listened in awe to Kham’s exploits during the Saturnalia ex Mille Basiare. He in turn regaled them all with his own youthful exploits and stories featuring some of his famous and infamous ancestors. Eventually, Thralen excused himself and went to bed.

Sebastian ducked back into Thralen’s office. There was a book within that he found interesting.

The office had a distinct nautical theme. The walls were hung with navigational charts, signaling pennants, and wooden carvings of sea animals. Several comfortable chairs were drawn up before a large and impressive oak desk. The desk was littered with ledges, manifests, quills, an ink pot and small box of sand, a worn and salt-stained leather-bound routier, a traverse board with dividers, a tarnished brass astrolabe, a heavy threaded lead weight, and the tome Sebastian sought. It was titled, “Insulae di Mare-Pallidus.”

With the book under his arm, Sebastian retired to bed. And yet, Emric was always on his mind.

A chill wind swept through his room. Sebastian paused to look out at the dark jungle beyond.

“Where is your mother, I wonder?” he asked.

[talien]

Something woke Vlad out of a dead sleep. He wasn’t sure why.

Vlad was in a comfortable bed, in a warm and secure place rather than aboard a rocking and incessantly noisy ship. It was definitely an improvement.

He patted his stomach. The rich food was certainly a possibility.

Vlad thought he heard something creak downstairs. Dressed only in his nightshirt, he threw off the covers and quietly unsheathed his longsword from its scabbard on a dresser.

The foyer at the bottom of the stairs was strangely silent. He could hear the guards outside on their watch.

Vlad padded out into the hallway and crept down the steps. There was intermittent flashes of the faintest glow coming from underneath the door of Thralen’s study.

Vlad stood by the door and kept his longsword raised.

The door opened. Hair unbound and clad in the thinnest of nightdresses, the pretty maidservant from earlier stepped out into the hallway.

Val took a deep breath and lowered his blade. The maid hopped backwards with a squeal.

“You scared me!” she said. “What were you doing there?”

“Maybe I should ask you the same thing,” said Vlad.

The maid blushed. “Oh, this is very awkward.”

Vlad leaned on his longsword, point down. “I’ve got time,” he said.

“You see, Master Thralen demands certain…favors…in return for his patronage.”

“And he demands those favors,” he nodded towards the study, “in there?”

“Yes,” the maidservant said, lashes lowered.

“And where is Thralen now?”

“He did not show this evening,” the maid said. She stroked the inside of her other arm. “Sometimes he is too tired.”

“Uh huh,” said Vlad. “I think it’s time you went back to your room. I’ll escort you.”

Vlad took her by the elbow and steered her to the hallway. They stopped at a door.

She opened it. For a servant’s quarters her room was spacious.

The maidservant turned to face Vlad, her nose inches from his. “My name is Cunegunda, by the way.”

“That’s great,” said Vlad. “Now—“

“Are you familiar with the Larissian sacraments?” Cunegunda lifted one leg slightly so that her naked thigh rubbed against the doorframe. “This whole incident could be quite embarrassing for my Master. I would be willing to perform a…service in exchange for your silence.”

Vlad pulled her roughly by the arm to him. “No. Thanks,” he said to her face. Then Vlad shoved Cunegunda back into her room and onto her bed.

The maidservant screamed at the top of her lungs and tore at her bodice as she fell. “HELP! I’m being attacked!”

Vlad looked around in surprise. “What?”

Two guards jogged up to him with halberds. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” said Vlad. “I was—she just—I caught her—“

“Doing what?” asked one of the guards, pointing his halberd’s blade at Vlad’s neck.

“He attacked me!” shouted Cunegunda, tears streaking her face. “He thought that because I was another Milandisian he could have his way with me!”

Thralen and just about everyone else in the house arrived in various states of undress.

“What?!” shouted Vlad. “I didn’t touch her!”

Some guards consulted with Cunegunda and closed the door so that Vlad could no longer hear their conversation. Ilmarė, her hair silver and purple-streaked hair up in a bun, stepped forward. “Let me talk to him.”

Thralen nodded and halberds were lowered.

“What were you doing, Vlad?”

“I found Cunegunda downstairs in Thralen’s study,” said Vlad. “She’s a Censuri spy.”

“And why exactly were you walking around in your nightshirt with a sword?” asked Thralen.

“I uh…” Vlad realized the predicament he was in. “I decided to take a walk.”

“I see.”

“Search her!” Vlad said. “She must have something on her…”

Thralen’s brow was furrowed in dismay. “The guards found nothing. Although there is a book missing from my study.”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “I can explain that,” he said. The book was in his hands. He handed it over to Thralen. “I was merely borrowing it for some nighttime reading. I don’t sleep much.”

Thralen looked alternately confused and disturbed. He turned back to Vlad. “Vlad, I’m very disappointed with you.”

“I’m sure this is a misunderstanding,” said Ilmarė. “I expect this of other people,” she looked at Kham, who looked bleary-eyed and tired. Kham didn’t even notice. “But not Vlad.”

“That may be. Still…” Thralen looked around. “Where’s Camring?”

A guard huffed up to Thralen. “Gone. His window is open and his street clothes are missing.”

Thralen’s expression turned grim. He turned to Vlad. “I have an idea of how we can solve both of our problems.”

[talien]

Vlad and Ulthard Rolter, the val’Ossan guard sergeant, sat hunched in sight of a large warehouse.

They could hear the incessant noise of The Broken Mug tavern a scant 100 yards from their vantage point. It sounded like another customer had offended the owner and partaken of her particular brand of watery justice. Except for the ongoing war between rats and cats, their section of The Docks was quiet. A cold mist had rolled in off the harbor along with the familiar reek of fish and salt water.

“This is it,” said Ulthard. Seven val’Ossan guards armed with halberds crouched behind them. “Our intelligence indicates that they’re keeping them here.”

The warehouse was a large building standing alone on the border between The Docks and Scurvytown. The windows on the southern wall glowed with the barest hint of light. A lone sentry was perched on a stool next to a small door in front of the warehouse, a crossbow cradled in his arms.

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” said Vlad. He looked around. “Wait. Where’s Kham?”

A figure in an overcoat darted from crate to crate, zigzagging its way in the mist and darkness towards the sentry. The guard straightened up and lifted his crossbow, peering into the darkness.

“He’s been spotted,” said Ilmarė.

“He’ll give us away!” said Vlad.

“Not if I can help it,” said Ilmarė. She pointed at the guard and whispered, “Îdh.”

The guard collapsed into unconsciousness.

Vlad pointed at Ulthard. “Grab that guard and tie him up,” he whispered.

Kham padded past the snoring guard and pulled a dagger from the many pockets in his coat. He tapped it on the ground once and a small rod extended from its base. It contained a series of lock picks. Kham extended two of them and inserted the hilt of the dagger into the door’s lock. He twisted the hilt once, twice and was rewarded with a click.

“Just like the old days,” said Kham with a grin. The dagger disappeared into the folds of his coat as he slowly creaked the door open. The he disappeared inside.

“He’s going to get us all killed,” said Ilmarė.

Something small and black crawled out of the folds of Sebastian’s cloak. A bat flittered off towards the warehouse and through one of the 20-foot high windows.

“What was that?” asked Bijoux.

“My familiar, Dracuul,” said Sebastian matter-of-factly.

A few seconds later the bat returned. Dracuul landed on Sebastian’s shoulder.

Bijoux leaned forward as Dracuul squeaked at her. “He says there are several people and boxes in there.”

“You got all that from a few squeaks?” asked Ilmarė.

“I would ask him more,” said Bijoux. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “But he’s not very smart.”

Dracuul disappeared again into the folds of Sebastian’s cloak. “I say we set the warehouse on fire,” he said. “Then they can come to us. Going through the front door is suicide.”

“Set it on fire with what?” asked Vlad.

“The men can get you torches, and maybe some oil. But we don’t have much,” said Ulthard.

“You can’t set the walls on fire,” said Beldin. “They’re made of mortared stone and brick.”

“The roof will burn,” said Bijoux. “I’ll go.”

Everyone looked to Vlad.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

[talien]

Locksan Dru’ell sat on a crate along with the other thugs. She was surrounded by piles of pallets that had been converted into makeshift chairs and tables. Two lamps, reeking of burning fish oil, illuminated the massive warehouse.

“I’m not sure what tha hell is going on,” said Zainat, feet propped up on a crate. His hat was pulled low over his head. “But we better get paid twice. We brought back that boy two times over.”

“You will be paid handsomely,” said Locksan. “I don’t fully understand myself, but the val’Ossans have surely gotten the hint.”

“That kids should not be left alone in Freeport?” asked Neyadis.

“Dat Captain Blax vill not tolerate a Milandisian heir to the Sea Lord throne,” said Broled.

Zainat lifted his hat with one thumb. “By the way, we’ve got ourselves an intruder.”

“What?” shouted Amalia, grabbing her flamberge.

Someone darted from the door to the office to the front door next to the larger double doors to the warehouse.

“Cam,” said Zainat, easing his pistol out of its holster. “Running again so soon? We ain’t had our little chat yet.”

WHAM!

The double doors shuttered. An axe blade rent a crack through one of the doors.

WHAM!

“Everyone to their weapons!” shouted Locksan, pointing to different thugs. “Crossbows up! You shoot the first thing that comes through those doors!”

WHAM!

Amalia gripped her flamberge with both hands. Broled had his longsword out. Neyadis was poring over a scroll. Zainat was at least sitting upright.

WHAM!

The double doors fell forward, revealing the three forms of a dwarf, a human, and a ss’ressen in the fog. Seven halberdiers were lined up behind them.

“And here I thought this was gonna be easy,” said Zainat.

[talien]

Calactyte pointed at Amalia. “You!” he said. With a roar, he charged towards the dark-kin.

Amalia grinned. “Yes, come to Amalia!”

Great axe met flamberge with a terrific CLANG! as thugs and guards embroiled in all out war. Beldin shouldered some crates into nearby thugs and kept on going, swinging his axe low at Locksan’s legs.

A guard dropped his halberd as a thug slashed at his arms. He fumbled to draw his sword…

Locksan skipped backwards. She had a buckler in one hand and a gladius in the other. “You’ll have to do better than that, dwarf!”

Ilmarė’s voice rang out true and clear through the chaos. “Et eärello,” she sang of the great sea.

A thug screamed as a halberd pierced his side. He went down in a bloody heap.

Locksan struck at Beldin’s head, but he blocked it with the flat of his axe.

A crossbow bolt clanged off of Vlad’s shield.

“Onara utúlien,” sang Ilmarė. Out of Onara’s oceans they came.

Vlad and Broled circled each other. Each had a shield in one hand and a longsword in the other. Broled feinted and then lunged, but Vlad twisted away and batted the blade aside with his shield.

“This is madness!” said Sebatian.

Up on the roof, Bijoux lowered a rope down to Kham. Behind her, the roof continued to smolder.

“Where are ya Cam?” said Zainat, scanning the melee. “I know yer out there ya coward. Come out and fight me like ah man!”

Kham struggled up onto the roof. “How are the fires coming?” he asked, out of breath.

“Slowly,” said Bijoux. “I do not think this plan will work.” The cold mist and the water-soaked warehouse all worked against the sputtering flames.

“Me either,” said Kham. He scrambled across the roof.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To settle a score,” said Kham over his shoulder. Then he disappeared over the other side of the roof.

Bijoux jumped into space and glided around to one of the high windows. She purred again, calling to the creatures of the docks as she watched the conflict rage below her.

“Sinome maruvan,” sang Ilmarė. They would survive the battle.

Cal blocked Amalia’s sword with the flat of his axe and then retaliated with his tail, slapping her on the thigh.

“Nice trick,” said Amalia. “Amalia knows one better. HA!”

With a mighty blow, she slashed sideways across Cal’s chest. He spun around like a top and fell to the ground in a pile of boxes.

“Ar hildinyar tenn' ambar-metta,” sang Ilmarė. As would all of the val’Ossan line, until the end of the world.

Neydais finished reading her scroll: “Incendiaries globus!”

Then the world became a bright ball of red and yellow flames.

[talien]

The explosion left thug and guard alike stunned. Those crates and boxes that hadn't been hurled from the center of the blast burned and smoldered. Calactyte was on the warehouse floor, unconscious from a vicious gash in his abdomen. Vlad and Beldin were separated from their opponents. They struggled to their feet.

The gout of flames blew through the door and out of the warehouse, forcing Ilmarė and Sebastian to dive for cover.

Two of the guards were down. Ilmarė pointed at Neyadis, who began chanting again. "Stop her before she casts again!" she shouted.

Vlad barreled towards her. If she got off another fireball…

Neyadis raised one hand and pointed. The same pea-sized ball of flames would balloon into a massive explosion. It would most certainly incinerate his comrades if he didn't do something fast.

"Incendiaries—"

Her chant ended in a gurgle as she slid off Vlad's longsword. His victory was short-lived; Amalia's blade whistled towards his head.

Vlad brought his shield up just in time, but the blow wrenched it out of his grasp.

There was a terrible explosion from the far corners of the warehouse. A sewer grate blasted upwards with a gout of water and sewage. A large, fish-man stepped out of the muck along with several web-eared creatures armed with spears.

From the other corner, a massive humanoid with a large, fish-like head smashed its way through a wall of the warehouse. It was over ten feet tall with gray-black skin encrusted with spiky protrusions, barnacles and scaly limpets.

The thugs turned to engage the fish men, but they were clearly outnumbered.

"Reinforcements?" Sebastian said to Ilmarė.

Ilmarė shook her head as she knocked another arrow. "No, I think those are from…‘Mommy'."

[talien]

Vlad used the momentary distraction to roll out of Amalia’s range. When he rose, he was face-to-face with Broled. Their swords crashed into each other again.

Beldin wrenched his axe out of the bleeding corpse that was once Locksan. He turned, only to be batted backwards by the mighty swing of Amalia’s flamberge.

Unseen by all, a huge rat crawled its way out of the open sewer grate. It sat up on its hind legs and squeaked up at Bijoux.

“The door!” she said, pointing at the door to an enclosed office. “Break it down!”

The rat, easily the size of a man, darted between combatants and crates as it made its way to the door.

Zainat backed himself into a corner, trying to watch everyone at once. He hadn’t fired a shot.

“Come on out, Cam. I got a bullet with yer name on it.”

“It’s pronounced kai-EM!” shouted Kham as he hung over the window, twenty feet up, both handgonnes aimed at Zainat.

BLAM! BLAM!

Zainat whirled but not in time. Two bullet holes pierced his jacket. He lay flat on his back, staring upwards at Kham.

“I jest got one word fer ya,” Zainat spat blood. “Jump.”

Against every measure of common sense and instinct, Kham did as he was told. He threw himself out of the window…and was pulled taut as the rope suspended him in the air. Kham thanked Althares that he thought to tie himself before diving through the window.

The giant rat began gnawing its way through the door hinges to the office.

“Lahk shootin’ fish inna barrel,” said Zainat as he took aim with his black flintlock.

Then one of the fish giants smashed him to a pulp.

The dire rat threw its weight against the door and it fell inwards. Bijoux glided down into the doorway.

Camring and Emric were tied up and gagged, back to back, on a stool.

Bijoux hesitated, looking back and forth between the two. Ilmarė ran in behind her.

“Grab one of them!” she said. The Elorii hoisted one of the boys over her shoulder, she couldn’t tell which, and ran out of the warehouse.

Bijoux grabbed the remaining boy and followed suit.

Inside the warehouse, Beldin blocked a strike from Broled.

“Beldin!” shouted Vlad, dragging the unconscious and bloody body of Cal behind him. “We are leaving!”

Beldin took a step backwards. Broled began to pursue, but then the dwarf pointed behind him. “You’ve got bigger problems,” he said.

Broled turned just in time to face down the rampaging fish giant.

“Oh VHIT,” were the last words he got out before he died.

[talien]

It was a strange sight, to see Emric and Camring side by side. Both appeared to be no worse for their harrowing adventures. But they were identical, down to the mischievous glint in their eyes.

“Yarris’ mercy,” said Thralen. “I didn’t believe it true. But seeing them both here before me, it is difficult to pick one from the other. Aye, but what to do about it…”

The icy stillness returned. A ghostly apparition began to take form between the two boys.

It was a form without true substance: a phantom in the shape of a pale and lovely woman worn by ceaseless worry and regret. She lay a hand on both Emric and Camring’s shoulders.

“So let it end,” she said.

“Tivatia.” Bijoux stepped forward. “I have returned your child, as you asked.”

A bright, blinding light coalesced around the apparition and the two boys. It was unbearably intense, such that no one could bear to look at it. Waves of magic washed outward in a spray of rainbow colors.

Then the light faded. The silence was broken by Thralen’s shout of “What is this!”

Where two boys once stood, only one remained. Camring had transformed into a bestially monstrous form. It was six-feet tall, with slick blue-black skin stretched tautly over knotty cords of muscle, long arms ending in viciously taloned and webbed claws, a bullet-like head with no discernable neck, and a face more fish than human.

Uttering a guttural, inarticulate moan, it turned and lunged from the room, crashing through the windows to the garden below.

Vlad moved to pursue. Bijoux put a hand out. “Let him go. Things are now as they should be,” she said.

Tivatia remained. She turned to Bijoux. “You have released me from my bonds and laid to rest a most dreadful enchantment. The foul witcheries of Sycorax have been dispelled. My son,” she gazed fondly at Emric, “and you are my son, is restored to his family.”

She began to fade. “My dearest child,” she said to Emric, “I regret that I cannot spend more time here with you. The veil of Beltine is parting and I must yet face the Judgment of Nier. Fare thee well, my son. Know that I loved you beyond life itself.”

Tivatia turned back towards Bijoux. “And you who have secured for my son his true birthright, I bless. But fear you still must the wrath of Sycorax.”

Emric was visibly shaken. Thralen put his hands on Emric’s shoulders. “So you are my true nephew, while the other was some witch’s get.” He crushed the boy to his chest. “Be welcome, son of Tivatia and Carius. Welcome home, Emric Drac val’Ossan.”

“What will become of Camring?” Emric whispered.

“I don’t know, son,” said Thralen. “I don’t know.”

[talien]

Vlad unfolded the newspaper in Thralen’s dining room. It read, “Foreign Heroes Blacken Blax’s Eye in Warehouse Brawl.”

“The jeers will be audible all the way to Censure,” he said.

“And yet Captain Blax got what she wanted,” said Ilmarė.

“What do you mean?” asked Beldin.

“I’ve decided to take Emric back to Milandir,” said Thralen. “There, he can be properly educated and tutored amongst other young val’Ossans. Freeport is no place for children.”

“I agree,” said Sebastian, gloved fingers folded before him.

“Before you go, I would like to give you a gift,” said Thralen. “You will find pins next to each of your plates. It is a symbol of favor with the Milandisian branch of House val’Ossan.”

Vlad’s pin was noticeably missing. The message was clear: they were even.

Kham snorted. He had Zainat’s pistol and bullets out on the breakfast table.

“What’s so funny?” asked Cal.

“Zainat wasn’t kidding,” he said, still chuckling. He held up one of the ten bullets between thumb and forefinger.

The letters: “C”, “A” and “M” were etched into its side.

“So who is this Sycorax*, exactly?” asked Vlad.

Thralen stroked his chin. “There was once a beautiful maiden in Freeport by that name. She was a descendant of the great corsair Francisco and a priestess of Yarris. But Sycorax was young and loved unwisely.”

“Unwisely?”

“Her fickle lover spurned her for another. Sycorax’s revenge was terrible. Her vengeance twisted her, such that it is said she was cursed as a horrible sea hag.”

“Oh, that Sycorax,” said Kham. “The mariners of the Pale Sea make sacrifices to Yarris to keep their vessels away from the shoals of her island.”

“So Sycorax switched the two children at birth,” said Ilmarė.

“What kind of a mother does that?” asked Bijoux.

“The kind you don’t want to meet,” said Kham, nodding towards Calactyte.

The big lizard twitched his tail but didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked back and forth between Ilmarė and Kham.

“Fine,” said Ilmarė, “but this is the last time.”

When Cal finally sang what he was holding back, he belted it out so loudly that the others jumped.

“WHO LIVES IN A GROTTO DOWN UNDER THE SEA?”

*To learn the likely fate of Camring, see the Wikipedia entry for The Tempest: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tempest_%28play%29

[talien]

This is the third soft point of Year 2 of the tournament module, "All That Glitters," written by Jeff Johnston and set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at http://www.onaraonline.org. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

· Ilmarė Galen (Elf Brd4), played by Amber Tresca (my wife)
· Calactyte (Ss’ressen Bar2), played by Joe Tresca: http://www.creepyportfolio.com
· Bijoux (Fihali 2/Drd1), played by Melissa Gendron
· Sebastian Arnyal (Dark-kin Sor 3) played by George Webster
· Beldin Soulforge (Dwarf Ftr3) played by Joe Lalumia

I was Dungeon Master for this session: http://michael.tresca.net

This was a straightforward treasure hunt, which is rare in Arcanis. As a result, the session went very quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I fleshed out the cave part of the adventure on my own. I also got to use more props: a pirate game called “Morgan’s Revenge” and a pack of 100 fake gold coins worked out nicely. And a rubber spider.

I moved some of the encounters out of order for two reasons. For one, there’s no explanation as to how the characters come into possession of the rubbings. The adventure’s written for new players rather than experienced PCs. So the beggar king of Freeport made for a nice foil (I used his optional encounter from Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe). Two, no experienced adventurer in his right mind is going to bump into someone on the street and then let the guy “pay them back by apologizing.” They certainly wouldn’t take a swig of any drink offered from said gentleman off the street. So I had to set the adventure up differently to get people to take a swig of the tainted drinks, and the only way it even worked is because we actually had drinks in our hands at the gaming table to toast with.

This adventure ranged from laughably easy (watch Beldin decapitate the main bad guy in one shot!) to meat grinder-hard (watch Calactyte go down…TWICE!). That said, the party took it all in stride and worked hard for their experience points. They started working better together as a team: Beldin began protecting Sebastian in melee and Bijoux’s spells saved the party from a trap. Speaking of traps, there were so many traps and encounters in the cave that it was enough to boost just about everyone up one level too (for the sake of the story flow, I didn’t cover all of them here).

The weekend afterwards, Vlad, Quintus, and Kham got together again for a bit of a reunion. Find out what they were up to in the next story hour chapter.

Oh yeah, I (briefly) got to use my inn set up.

[talien]

The area of Freeport that Beldin and Sebastian had entered looked particularly seedy. Citizens were despondent and sad, barely even lifting their heads to see where they were going. No one would meet their eye.

“Friendly place,” said Beldin, the dwarf.

Good portions of the people present were gnomes, doing little to hide their obvious deformities.

“Oh I don’t know,” said Sebastian, adjusting his robed with gloved hands. “I think we blend right in.”

Undir watermen from the far south, Myrantian exiles from their doomed and bleak land, and Pengik tribesmen seeking a better life away from their barren coast all mingled freely. Each people seemed to have claimed a portion of Scurvytown as their own, save the gnomes, who were routinely ousted from even the meanest of dwellings.

“Didn’t Kham tell us to avoid this place?” asked Beldin.

The city guard was particularly absent, though there were signs of criminal activity everywhere: broken heads, beaten bodies, and bloody beggars.

“He did indeed,” said Sebastian, brushing aside a wisp of white hair from his face. “We are in the Freebooter’s Quarter. I wanted to see what the Ymandragorians were up to.”

“We were supposed to meet Captain Baldric at The Goodly Fisher…what’s this?” Beldin reached for his axe as a strange man, even for Scurvytown, approached.

Amid the squalor and filth capered a swirling madcap figure: a tall, gangly man in a great cloak of multicolored patches and motley garments trimmed with yesterday’s silks, tattered grimy lace, and moth-eaten rabbit fur. Turning in mid stride, he pushed his way through the crowd to Beldin and Sebastian.

The figure stopped in front of Beldin. A broad, perhaps mad, grin beamed out from the shadows of his hood.

“Easy,” said Sebastian, “he does not appear armed.”

The beggar held a long, slender stick of birch in his right hand.

“Would you be interested in a game of chance?” the man asked in a lilting voice.

The exact same approach had been used a dozen times on the pair when they tried to cross a street in Scurvytown. Beldin was about to brush the strange man aside when Sebastian put one hand out. “And what kind of game is this?”

“A game with much for me to lose, and much for you to win,” he said with a cackle. “And the pot is very high indeed: some rubbings from a stone!”

Beldin’s bushy eyebrows went up. “Stone, you say?”

“Ah, I see I’ve piqued both your interests. Come, come, sit, sit,” he pulled up a barrel and pointed at a box and a pile of rope. “The pot isn’t much, a mere five imperials each.” In this case the pot was literally a pot, pulled from beneath the barrel and placed on top of it.

“Your game can’t be very popular,” said Sebastian. “You’re not offering any gold.”

The beggar pulled strips of parchment with words rubbed on them in black chalk. He tossed one into the pot. “You are correct, and so they lose out. My game has much higher stakes.”

Beldin and Sebastian tossed five gold coins each into the pot.

“Now then, spin the dreidel if you can. Or not. It will determine our fates.”

Beldin struggled with the top the first few tries, but he eventually snapped it. The dreidel spun madly about on the surface of the barrel, rolling a sudden stop.

“We all put coins in!” said the beggar. Only he didn’t put any in.

Beldin and Sebastian exchanged looks and dropped another gold coin into the pot.

On Sebastian’s turn the dreidel landed on “TP.”

“You win!” said the beggar. He pushed the 14 gold coins and the rubbing towards Sebastian.

“What kind of beggar so willingly gives up his gold?” asked Beldin, staring at the pile before Sebastian.

“A beggar who has more to lose than gold.” Sebastian plucked the rubbing from the pile and held it up in the sunlight. “How many more of these do you have?”

“Enough,” said the beggar with a twinkle in his eye.

“We’ll play you for all of them,” said the dark-kin.

“You know, if you keep going on like this I know exactly what is going to happen,” said the beggar.

Beldin harrumphed as he tossed more coins into the pot. “What’s that?”

“Someone will be in for a nasty surprise, that’s what.”

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s hope it’s not on us.”

[talien]

The basement establishment was typical of that part of the docks. It was a run-down affair, almost unnoticeable amidst all the other buildings. If Baldric hadn’t told them about it, they would never have been able to find it.

Inside, it was much the same. They were sorely out of place, but nobody seemed to care—the few other patrons were absorbed in their own alcoholic intake.

Captain Baldric waved them over to a series of round tables in the back. Ilmarė sat with them, an expression of mild distaste on her face.

“Well, we’re in the right place,” said Sebastian to Beldin.

They pulled up stools to join the haggling at the table.

“I know ye’ve heard me talk about Captain Wendron Krubach,” said the grizzled captain, stroking his eye patch. “But I haven’t told ye th' whole story. Th' Captain tookst more than me eye. He took me treasure.”

“And you want us to take it back?” asked Ilmarė, crossing her arms.

“Aye. But we’ve got t' find 't first. Krubach buried his booty an' now that th' Black Egret sailed' down, 't’s mine fer th' takin'.”

“So where is it?” asked Beldin.

“I don’t know,” said Baldric with a sigh. “Krubach’s mistress had a stone left in th' lass' care, detailin' 'ere th' booty could be found. We…caught up wi' th' lass'.” He looked uncomfortable. “That’s how I came by this.”

He tossed a single scrap of parchment onto the table. Ilmarė squinted at it.

“Captain and his seven officers
Each takes a share and one for the crew
Captain chooses first of nine but
Nothings left when he is through.”

“Does 't mean anythin' t' ye, lass?” asked Baldric.

Ilmarė shook her heard. “No, I’ve never seen this before.”

“Maybe this will help,” said Sebastian, tossing several tattered pieces of parchment with black chalk marks on them. They were rubbings from a stone with a variety of letters.

“That’s from th’ stone!” shouted Baldric, pointing at the pieces. “’ere did ye find these, lad?”

“It was the strangest thing,” said Sebastian. “A beggar gambled them away.”

“A beggar, hmm?” said Ilmarė. “What kind of beggar?”

“He had a great cloak of many colors and fabrics,” said Beldin.

Ilmarė’s almond-shaped eyes widened. “You met Emperor Oswald, the Beggar King of Freeport. He rarely talks to outsiders except to demand his imperial largess. Oswald must have a good reason for getting these fragments into your hands.”

Sebastian pulled Baldric’s parchment over to look at it. “There’s five words at the bottom: Freeport, Temple of Althares, and Krubach. So I’d say the Temple would be our first stop.”

“Nay so fast,” said Baldric. “We’ve got t' come t' terms first. What be Krubach’s belongs t' me, so I an' th' crew be havin' starboards t' th' booty.”

Ilmarė crossed her arms. “I don’t see why we should do this for you. We stay put in Freeport until we hear from Quintus. Besides, there’s nothing Krubach could have that I want.”

Baldric winked at her. “Don’t be so quick t' judge, lass. Krubach traveled wi' Garniss th' Sage, a noted diviner an' researcher o' many new an' unique spells. Legend has 't that Garniss hid his notes wi' Krubach’s booty.”

Ilmarė peered at the captain sideways. “Hmm. Perhaps we have time for a short diversion. Fine, Baldric. You get the gems and jewels, we get everything else.” She looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian nodded. “The Beggar King gave us a gift. It would be impolite to waste it.”

“Then ye’re in!” said Baldric. “Let us toast. May we find Krubach’s booty an' waste 't all on lasses an' wine!”
The other crewmembers, Sebastian, and Beldin raised their mugs in salute. Ilmarė had not touched hers.

“To the treasure!” they shouted. Then they all took a swig.

“Where are the others?” asked Beldin.

The elorii’s gaze flickered to the door, but no one came out of it. “I’m not sure myself. I told them all to meet us here.”

There was a thump at the table. Ilmarė sneered down at the greasy hair of an unconscious Baldric. “Stupid human pirates,” she said.

Then a litany of flesh on wood echoed around them as pirate after pirate fell where they sat, blissfully snoring away.

“That’s some drink,” said Beldin, wiping his lips. He didn’t seem affected in the slightest.

Ilmarė sniffed her mug. “That’s no normal drink. That’s oil of taggitt.” She unsheathed her elven thinblade. “We’ve been tricked!”

[talien]

“Terribly sorry about that,” said a tall, well-dressed man with narrow features. “My name’s Japheth.” Three hired thugs fanned out behind him. “You’re new to the city, aren’t you? You may have heard that the city is full of crude, mannerless pirates,” he nodded towards Baldric, asleep in his drink, “but that’s all changing.”

“I prefer pirates to assassins,” said Ilmarė, blade out. Sebastian and Beldin had their backs to the wall. “At least when they betray you, it’s with a naked blade instead of a poisoned drink.”

“Ah yes, well, I find it makes things easier,” said Japheth, looking genuinely embarrassed. “Now if you’d be so kind as to give me those little scraps of paper on the table, we can all move on with our lives.”

Sebastian vaulted himself onto the table from the floor. “No,” he said. Sebastian pointed one palm at his assailants. “Fuco aspergo!”

A vivid cone of clashing colors sprang forth from his hand. Japheth ducked beneath the cone, but it sizzled past him, engulfing the three thugs. They slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Japheth’s blades were out instantly. The thief was crouched low, ready to spring at Sebastian, when he saw Beldin’s axe.

“Oh sh—“ was all he got out as the blade swept upwards, separating Japheth’s head from his body. There was a gout of blood, and then silence.

Ilmarė resheathed her blade. “Where is he?”

“Who?” asked Sebastian, trying not to stare at the headless corpse that lay beneath the table.

“The innkeeper. Someone poisoned these drinks, and I didn’t see Japheth until just now. That means he had an…” she peered over the bar. “…accomplice. Get up.”

A brown-haired, portly man crept out from behind the bar. “P-please don’t hurt me!” he whispered.

“Who are you,” said Sebastian, “and why did you poison our drinks?”

“I don’t know anything!” said the bartender.

Beldin picked up Japheth’s head, an expression of surprise still etched in his face. “Really? Perhaps you’d like to talk to your friend about it.”

The man broke out in a sweat. “My name’s Nikko, but I know nothing, I swear! I was hired by Japheth to drug you.” Nikko licked his lips. “He said I could have your purses. That’s all.” He looked over at the headless body of Japheth. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt!”

Ilmarė shook Baldric, who didn’t budge. Then she slapped him, hard, across the face.

Baldric woke with a snort. “Nay now darling…” He blinked and looked around. “Wha?”

Beldin dragged Nikko over to him with one hand. “This fellow drugged you,” he lifted the other hand, which held Japheth’s head by its neatly cut hair. “And this one tried to take the rubbings.”

“I be seein’,” said Baldric, rubbing his good eye. “A double-cross.”

“We’re going to the Temple of Althares. We’ll meet you back at the Shrike.”

The captain nodded. His other men were coming around.

Beldin wiped the blood off his axe with Japheth’s shirt. Ilmarė paused at the doorway as the three of them filed out of the tavern.

“Make sure he cleans this mess up first,” Ilmarė pointed to the expanding pool of blood beneath the table. “With his tongue, if necessary.”

“Well, we know how t' take care o' all this.” Baldric grinned with jagged teeth. “We’re pardoned men, but we’re still pirates at heart.”

Nikko whimpered as Baldric and the crew circled him.

[talien]

Vlad arrived to find the Goodly Fisher empty of all inhabitants but one. Kham sat in the corner, feet propped on a table, a bottle of wine in one hand. He was staring at a note in the other.

“Where are the others?” asked Vlad, looking around.

“Not here. I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” said Kham. “But a messenger just left a note. Looks like Quintus found the kid…finally.”

“So, do we alert the others?”

Kham nodded at the empty stools. “We don’t have time to look for them. I’ll leave a note with the proprietor of this fine establishment. Whenever the rest of the circus arrives, they can catch up.”

Vlad frowned. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Kham lifted his feet off the table and adjusted his bandolier. “It’s not a good idea. But after all the trouble we’ve been through, I’m not waiting anymore. The next ship out of Freeport to Coryani leaves in an hour, so we better get going.”

He scribbled something on the back of the note and pinned it with a dagger to the bar. “There, that should get their attention.”

Then he walked out the door. Vlad sighed and followed him.

Something was dislodged from bar by the force of Kham’s dagger: Nikko’s arm flopped out from behind it.

[talien]

The Temple of Althares was, surprisingly, one of the grander structures in Freeport, nearly rivaling the nearby Temple of Yarris. Massive pillars stood in a double row down the center of the enormous vaulted room, and shelves of scrolls and tomes stretched from floor to ceiling, interrupted only by the walkways that formed the second floor.

“Whatever possessed the Altherians to build such a repository here?” asked Sebastian.

“Humans worship their gods in the strangest of places,” said Ilmarė. “They’d build a temple in a sewer if it wasn’t for the stench.”

Bijoux wrinkled her nose. “This whole city smells like a sewer.”

She and Calactyte had joined up with them as they were leaving the Nikko’s place. There was still no sign of Kham and Vlad.

A young acolyte watched them from behind a desk just inside the entrance. “My name is Brother Norton,” he said. “Can I help you?”

Sebastian thrust out the piece of parchment. “We found these rubbings,” he said. “One of them mentions this temple.”

Brother Norton squinted at the rubbing. “Ah yes! We used to allow people to make rubbings of the original stone. But it’s very soft has started to crumble, so we don’t let anyone touch it anymore.”

“In that case,” said Ilmarė. “we’d like to see the stone.”

“I’m really not the one to ask,” said Brother Norton. “Brother Oriku has made a study of it, but he hasn’t been able to decipher the text. I’ll have him stop by.”

Brother Norton disappeared into the cavernous temple, only to be replaced by a rotund, pleasant-seeming little man of middle age with a large bald spot on the top of his head.

“You must be hunting for Captain Krubach’s treasure,” he said.

“We know of him,” said Sebastian.

“Legend has it that he plundered a treasure fleet carrying treasures from Khitan, just before the beginning of the rainy season. He hid the treasure and set off for one more raid, but…” Oriku shook his head. “He never returned.”

“We found the remains of his ship, the Black Egret,” said Bijoux. “He won’t be back for his treasure.”

Oriku took off his spectacles to polish the lenses. “We haven’t had anyone interested in the carving for awhile.” He peered at Ilmarė. “The last group was going to speak with a Loremaster they knew in Altheria. If memory serves me right, they took a rubbing with them.”

“You mean these?” asked Sebastian, showing him the pieces of paper.

“Ah yes, that looks like them. They’ve been a bit mistreated, I see. It’s no wonder you had to come to look for the original. How did you come by these?”

Beldin grunted. “We won it off a beggar.”

“Do you know where he got them from?” asked Oriku, nonplussed.

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” said Sebastian.

“I lost track of the rubbings after they were made,” said Oriku, “but I can show you the stone, if you like.”

With Oriku’s consent, he led them over to another room containing the stone. The room was filled with blanks sheaves of paper and parchment, chalk and charcoal. The stone hung on one wall, protected by a glass frame. Covering another wall was a map of the area surrounding Freeport.

“This makes no sense,” said Sebastian, studying the stone fragment. “It’s letters, but not in any form I can understand.”

Beldin stepped up to the frame and looked over the various letters. “It’s in Low Coryani, but I can’t make heads or tails of it either.”

Ilmarė peered over his shoulder. “It’s a riddle. What did the verse say?”

“Captain and his seven officers,” said Sebastian. “Perhaps it is every seventh letter?”

“Try it,” said Ilmarė. Behind them, Calactyte took up a piece of chalk and begin scribbling on a blank piece of parchment.

“No,” said Sebastian after a moment, “that doesn’t work.”

“If we denote the first letter as the captain, then count seven letters after that...”

Sebastian shook his head while Cal scribbled furiously.

“No, that won’t work either,” said Sebastian.

Ilmarė bit her lip. “Well, the captain also chose the first of nine. So let’s try every ninth letter.”

“Hmm,” said Sebastian. “I think we may be on to something. The first word is ‘at’ and the second appears to be…’isles’? Calactyte, what have you come up with?”

The big lizard stopped scribbling to blink back at the smaller sorcerer. “Huh?”

Bijoux sighed. “Cal can’t read. Or write.”

Cal beamed with all his teeth and displayed his sketch. It looked vaguely like a boat. And a pirate.*

“That’s helpful Cal, thank you,” said Ilmarė without skipping a beat. “For the rest of us who can read, I think I’ve got it,” she said:

“At isle’s northernmost point,
Serpent overlooks the whale.
Seek the serpent den below.”

“I’m confused,” said Bijoux. “Do serpents and whales normally live together?”

“No,” said Sebastian. “It’s a code for something else. I think we’ll need to journey northwards.”

“But northwards where?” said Beldin. “That could take years to find.”

Ilmarė glanced behind her. “There,” she said, turning around. “There’s a whale marked on that part of the island,” she pointed one long finger at the crude drawing of a whale that was inland.

“Interesting,” said Oriku. “I thought it an error of cartography.”

“But I don’t see a snake,” said Sebastian.

“Here,” said Oriku, pointing at the bottom of a compass rose near the whale. “The ‘south’ direction looks strange.” He adjusted his glasses and peered closer. “It’s not just an ‘S’…it’s a serpent. Yes, I can see its tongue now!”

Ilmarė squinted. “Yes, I see it. It does look like a snake.”

“Then we know our destination,” said Sebastian.

They turned to leave, but Oriku blocked their path.

“I know I’m just an old man,” said Oriku, “but this mystery has been gnawing at me since I joined the Temple. To be able to see it to the end…it would mean a great deal to me.” He ran a hand through his remaining hair and straightened up a bit. “I won’t slow you down. And I have learned a few tricks, even if I’m not a priest.”

Sebastian looked him up and down. “Fine,” he said. “But if you betray us, you will not live long enough to regret it.” Then he brushed past him.

Oriku looked shaken but nodded at Sebastian’s back.

“Why was Sebastian so mean to that man?” Bijoux asked as they exited the temple.

“Ymandragorians put him on edge,” said Beldin.

“Freeport will do that to you,” said Ilmarė with a smirk. “I’ll be glad to leave this cesspool behind for a few days.”

[talien]

Captain Baldric stumped his way over to Ilmarė. “I be seein' ye found some o' yer companions. Good. So do we know 'ere we’re goin'?’

“Yes,” said Ilmarė. “Up the western side of A’Val.”

“How far up?”

“About 50 miles,” she said.

“That’ll take a good three days. Who’s this chubby swabbie?”

Osric cleared his throat. “I am Brother Osric, from the Temple of Althares.”

“I bet ye be,” said Baldric. “I don’t like th' looks o' ye.”

Osric blanched.

The crew crowded around the doughy man. “So we’re goin' t' put ye t' a test…”

“Oh for crying out loud!” shouted Ilmarė. “Just have the lizard sing it and be done with it. Osric won’t be with us for that long.”

Baldric harrumphed. “Fine, fine.” Several of the crew shot sideway glances at Cal, who was staring out at the ocean and sniffing the air. “We’re gettin' sea sick o' th' lad singin' that song anyway.”

[talien]

It was too dangerous to sail at night so close to the island, so the Shrike released two rowboats to approach the cliffs. The cliffs were slick with spray, roiled continuously by the rising and ebbing tide.

As the two boats rowed closer, Osric pointed upwards. “There!” he said. “That’s where the serpent was on the map.”

“Are you insane?” asked Ilmarė. “That’s a sheer cliff!”

Osric adjusted his glasses and rechecked a smaller version of the map from the Temple of Althares. “I’m afraid that’s the location.”

Ilmarė looked over at Bijoux. “Well, one of us has to scale that cliff.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Beldin from the other boat. “Dwarves were built for digging, not—“

He didn’t finish his sentence as something rammed the rowboat, hard. Beldin went over with a SPLOOSH!

“Swimming?” asked Ilmarė.

“I think he meant climbing,” said Sebastian with a sigh.

“Shark!” shouted Bijoux, pointing at a disappearing fin.

Cal put his axe down. “I’ll take cUHRK!?” He was suddenly frozen, rigid. He fell backwards into the boat.

“Magic,” said Sebastian. “There!” He pointed at a barely visible fish head, one webbed hand extended and pointing at them.

“Sycorax sends her regards,” burbled the fish-thing.

“Well then,” said Sebastian, “here’s our thank you note: magicus telum!” A searing bolt of magical energy flew from Sebastian’s outstretched finger into the fish-thing. It dove down into the water out of sight.

“I know how to deal with sharks,” said Bijoux. She began to purr.

“So do I,” said Ilmarė. “Im can am igaearon faer!”

Two porpoises dove in and out of the water in response to the magical call of their mistresses.

Bijoux looked at the elorii in surprise. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Osalian’s children are everywhere,” said Ilmarė. She addressed the porpoise, which was surrounded by a faint golden glow. “Stop the shark!”

Beldin managed to struggle back into the rowboat before he became shark food.

The fish head bobbed to the surface again, and was met with Sebastian’s chant: “magicus telum!” They played a game of cat and mouse for several minutes as the two porpoises relentlessly stalked the shark. And then neither fin nor fish head surfaced again.

“That was one of the fish people who raided the warehouse in Freeport,” said Sebastian.

“I was afraid of that,” said Ilmarė. “Looks like Sycorax will not forgive and forget so easily.”

Beldin grabbed hold of his beard and twisted, wringing seawater out of his hair. “Now for the hard part,” he said, pointing at the cliff.

[talien]

“So now that we’re here,” said Osric, taking in the surrounding countryside, “where is the serpent?”

One scaly claw, dripping seaweed and brine, struggled over the edge of the cliff. Calactyte was the last to reach the top of the precipice.

“He doesn’t count,” said Ilmarė. “Dig in this time Cal, the last two times you tore off half the cliff with you.”

Calactyte didn’t spare her a glance as the big lizard heaved himself up onto what remained of the dirt outcropping. He slumped over and caught his breath.

“Well, I think we found the serpent,” said Sebastian, staring up at a tree that loomed over them.

The jungle thinned somewhat, but even at the edge of the precipice, an ancient tree grew. It leaned out over the ocean and curved into an “S” shape.

Cal’s large snout turned to face them as he rolled over. “I know where the whale is.”

“If you sing that song again,” said Ilmarė, “I will kick you off this cliff.”

Calactyte didn’t open his eyes. “At the base of the cliffs,” he panted, “water arcs through holes. Like a whale.”

“Like a whale, hmmm,” said Sebastian, stroking his chin. “That means there are underwater tunnels here. There should be a cave entrance nearby.”

“Closer than that,” said Bijoux. She pawed at the base of the strangely shaped tree and removed some foliage.

Beldin took his axe off his back. “Finally, we’re going into my kind of terrain.” Then he ducked into the cave opening.

Cal craned his neck to look down at the cliff. “Well, it’s got to be better than the ocean.”