1.2 Hommes Optare
As she gave the pool of mercury a wide berth and made her way toward the fallen Captain, Eltera could see nothing else amiss upon the maindeck of the Argus. Still slowed by the numbing cold, the dark aelf moved gingerly, avoiding the blood that stained the planks and bits of bone left from Orpheus. Rentiki’s wound was raw and angry, but physically appeared more serious than it actually was. The true danger, Eltera noted, was the poisonous quicksilver mixed with the blood.
Terwase’s initial shock seemed to be dispelled when his Captain’s well-being was brought forth into question. The old shaman fell forward on his hands and knees, scrambling past the empty pistol toward Rentiki, the horrors he had just witnessed momentarily forgotten in his haste to render aid. Together with the dark aelf, Terwase helped the injured Captain off his stomach and propped him up against the frame of the cabin door.
Rentiki winced visibly at the movement, but to his credit he gave no cry of pain. When he was finally settled, the Captain smiled weakly at the both of them, nodding his thanks. “Ah, if only ye can call them that, dear Cat,” Rentiki replied wryly, though his voice sounded a bit stronger than it had been before. “No need for jealousy. Virile even as I am, one woman at a time is all I can handle, let alone three. I also prefer my women warm and without ice in their veins and murder in their hearts. Still, ye rarely see the glimmer of goldlust so plainly in their eyes. That’s when it’s best to cast off, aye.”
Eltera could only shake her head at the man’s words. It was not lust for gold that shone in their eyes. It was blood, that much she was certain.
They all whirled when the forecastle door finally burst open, the metallic hoarfrost weakened when the wench had impacted against its surface. A squat man with a burly demeanor rushed out before stopping short at the chaotic scene before him, his boots crunching over the abomination’s frozen remains. The tattered clothes she had worn were caught and blown away by the wind, flying over the rails. “The Kingfisher save us!” he swore in the same harsh-sounding language Hashad had used, a butcher’s meat cleaver in his fist. “What in da Nine 'ells ‘appened ‘ere?” This middle-aged human wore roughspun sailor’s garb and a leather apron stained with gristle over his considerable paunchy girth. A fat and homely man with light brown skin, the cook, or so Eltera guessed, was toughened by scars from being repeatedly burnt by countless grease fires, though his black hair and moustache were strangely well kept and oiled despite his otherwise unkempt attire. His dark eyes took in the slaughter and corpses littered near the gangplank and he gave a vile curse.
A boy, perhaps entering his early teens, poked his head out from behind the plump cook. He was a skinny lad, with shaggy dark hair and skin baked to a healthy bronze by the sun. His clothing was equally unremarkable and typical among sailors. His eyes grew wide as saucers as he too saw the bodies of the three sailors left in the wake of this night’s carnage.
“Cap’n!” the fat man shouted from across the maindeck. Followed closely upon his heels by the lanky youth, he took off running toward Rentiki, stopping only a moment to shoot an accusatory glance at Eltera. “Wench, I’ll gut ye ‘ere n’ now if ye be da cause of dis mess!”
“Yarquen,” Rentiki said gently to the man before turning to the boy. “Izthakos, tis alright. She’s . . . a friend.” This seemed to placate the homely ship’s cook somewhat, but he still looked doubtful while the youth only gazed at Eltera with a mix of bewilderment and fear. Silent thus far, the boy Rentiki had named as Izthakos blushed crimson red when he noticed the sorry state of Eltera’s dress, averting his eyes.
The dark aelf nodded curtly at them both but didn’t bother to wait for a formal introduction when she laid Amurisil’s eog-forged blade upon Rentiki’s left shoulder, touching the cool metal to the wound with the utmost care. At this, Yarquen brandished his cleaver menacingly at Eltera, perhaps believing she would do his Captain harm but Terwase stopped him with a raised hand. The sword answered its wielder’s call as the mangled flesh began to mend and knit seemingly all by itself, the only outward sign of an intervening force being a faint silvery radiance emanating from the tip of the blade. Terwase seemed to give a toothless grin of approval while Izthakos’s eyes went wide at the sight of it, his mouth gaping open in wordless astonishment. Yarquen only harrumphed and muttered something underneath his breath. Within moments, the wound was gone and Rentiki’s broad shoulder whole once more beneath the sheen of blood and sweat.
The dark aelf was puzzled when she noticed Orpheus’s skull still attached to the flesh where the serpent had bitten into its master’s skin. At Amurisil’s touch, the skull fell away and clattered to the deck. Left in its absence was a strange tattoo in the form of a fiery brand upon Rentiki’s shoulder, rendered in dark blue ink where none existed before. Even now Eltera saw pieces of the snake’s skeleton skittering across the cabin, gathering around the Daoshan Captain to retake its familiar undead shape. Orpheus coiled itself up over Rentiki’s right side, eerily silent while the large man stroked the snake’s fleshless skull affectionately.
“Good to see ye again too,” the Captain answered before turning to Terwase. “Old friend, help me up to my feet. I’m afraid I don’t quite have my sea legs back yet.”
The aged shaman nodded and did as Rentiki bade him, helping to shoulder the Captain’s weight upon his own gaunt frame. Terwase used his free hand to make a series of complex gestures, again, none of which Eltera could understand though Rentiki seemed to easily enough. The big Daoshan had risen slowly and swayed slightly before leaning his back against the door frame. Eltera noted that despite his wound having healed over, something else was wrong with him still.
Rentiki spoke even though they already knew the answer. “Poison,” he spat with unveiled distaste at the pool of mercury near his feet. Amurisil confirmed the diagnosis as well.
“Cap’n, no!” Izthakos uttered aghast in the Common Tradespeak and seemed almost on the verge of tears but he trailed off when Yarquen laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and shook his head solemnly.
Rentiki let out heavy breath before continuing. “Terwase says the mark I now bear will stay its effects for a while but eventually it will consume me.” Eltera could see the bluish veins standing out against Rentiki’s dark ebony skin where the girl child had savaged him. “A few days, no more, by his guess. Orpheus lent me a part of his spirit, he did, but his flame cannot burn away the venom nor keep it at bay forever. Terwase, he can prepare an antidote but it will take some time. Time I’m afraid we don’t quite have.” Wearily, Rentiki pointed with his chin toward the shouts of alarm and approaching footsteps echoing off in the near distance and then propped his head back against the wood of the cabin wall. He swallowed hard, sweat beading upon his face. “Yarquen, take Izthakos back down below decks and secure the cargo hold. Ye know what to do. Just follow the plan as we discussed. Let Hashad and the rest of the crew know what has happened when they return.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” the cook replied stoutly. “But just what sort o’ devilry did ‘appen ‘ere? Where are da other—”
“Terwase will explain later, if he can,” Rentiki said, cutting him off. “We’re all that’s left in this. There’s nothing we can do for the dead, and no time to delve into the details. Trust in me.”
Yarquen stiffened, recognizing an order when he hears one. “Ye kin count on me, Cap’n!”
“Good,” the large Daoshan replied and then turned to the youth. “Be brave. Now go, the both of ye!”
The boy bobbed his head earnestly.
“Aye, aye, Cap’n! Izthakos, on me heels!” Yarquen barked. With that, the cook and cabin boy turned and hurried off back down below decks.
“Rasavatam,” Rentiki said again when they were alone with Terwase and Orpheus to bear silent witness. The large man sounded almost wistful. “It is a Shakali word. It means—“
“The Way of Mercury,” Eltera answered before she even realized that she had spoken. There was no obvious explanation as to how or why she knew it, but upon hearing the once unfamiliar word again, she suddenly understood its meaning.
“Aye,” the Daoshan Captain said, his voice all too calm and betraying no hint of surprise as he watched with idle wonder the growing number of torchlights streaming down the cobblestone avenue toward the docks. “That it does, Cat. Terwase dabbled in the art for a good many years, or so he tells me, learning from several mystics from his homeland. It is a form of alchemy, the practice of combining herbs, drugs, and prepared medicines. Quite a bit different from the traditions of alchemy found here in the realms of the north and yet they share many things in common as well. In rasavatam, admixtures of mercury are the basis with which to cure disease and prolong life, even going as far as to unlocking the secrets of immortality. Though these . . . things we’ve encountered this night, it has been taken to an extreme unheard of.”
Eltera turned and regarded Rentiki cautiously. “You said you knew of a Shakali woman, a priestess,” she observed pointedly. “Could she have sent those things after you?”
“No,” Rentiki answered at once rather adamantly, shaking his head. “True, she may have been vengeful, but this devilry is beyond even her ken. I don’t believe for a second that our falling out would drive her to such lengths simply to satisfy a jilted lover’s petty revenge. A woman scorned, yes, but to damn her own soul to play at necromancy so foul as to offend the gods themselves? I say I should be so flattered, but even I realize that I’m hardly worth the effort!” The Captain of the Argus laughed in spite of himself, causing him to choke slightly in a fit of sudden coughing. He took a moment to catch his breath, waving away Terwase’s concerned ministrations.
“Besides, what she did with Orpheus is nothing compared to those things we fought,” he continued somberly. “No, this is not her doing. When last I saw her, she had too much respect for the gods and the old ways. This, this is something else. Dark sorcery is afoot here. Ye look to me for the answer and yet I couldn’t help but note that their appearance mirrored yours, Cat.” Rentiki arched an eyebrow at the dark aelf. “Ebony skin, bone white hair, and all women, too. They slew my men and turned them into mere mockeries of themselves just as they were even darker reflections of your own people, but not quite so. In my broad experience and varied travels, I’ve seen many strange things. For one, the dead can walk and oft tell tales if so inclined, contrary to popular belief, but they did not move nor fight as those abominations did. I must wonder, Cat, whether they may have come for ye instead of me. Perhaps someone is trying to send ye a message. If so, I would repay them in kind. A good captain always settles his debts. Elsewise, the souls of the dead can never rest easy.
“But aye,” he abruptly changed the subject, the approach of myriad strangers ever closer. “Let’s make ye comfortable in the little time we have left to us, yes? It just won’t do to have a delicate flower such as ye wilting away in the city gaol.” Smiling, Rentiki gestured inside his cabin and, together with Terwase and Orpheus, strode out of the chill to lead Eltera back toward the wardrobe. The secreted cabinet appeared more cramped than it had before to the dark aelf’s eyes as she followed suit. Terwase went to help gather her things from the Captain’s lectern and writing desk, his spindly arms straining under the weight of the kit.
As Eltera checked the confines of the closet hidden behind the cabin’s bookcase, Rentiki grabbed her upper arm, though not ungently. “Sooner or later,” he began in hushed tones so only she could hear him, the expression upon his face ashen like the grave. “I may turn into one of those things as Awino did. Should the time come, swear that you’ll put an end to me before that happens. I would choose to die as Rentiki, Captain of the Argus and not as a mindless pawn in some necromancer’s twisted game.”