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You know you want to! I will now stop talking in the third person and send you on to the post. Be lovely to each other and be safe.
Chapter Thirteen: Of Dreaded Drakes and Soggy Evenings
The following morning Ulrich rolled over to hear a clumping on deck that was distinctly hasty. It didn't quite have the disorder of panic in it but there was a certain degree of urgency that spoke of something spoiling a perfectly good morning. Ulrich stretched and sat up.
"No peace for the wicked," he grumbled as he pulled on his breeches before swinging his legs out of bed, wincing as various muscles complained that he had over taxed them chopping up kraken tentacles from the moment the battle ended to nightfall. Landing on his feet he started a set of stretches that his blade master had taught him long ago. The sound of a throaty snore from the bottom bunk reminded him that he was sharing the room and made him realize that today he'd been able to get out of bed without discovering the remains of a harbor tea party in his sheets. Ulrich grinned as he tucked in his shirt and pulled on his jacket. Buttoning it up and pulling on his boots he turned round and kicked the paneling beside Jeremiah's head none too gently.
Jeremiah responded with a snore, a gargle and a snort before rolling over, pulling the sheet up over his head.
"Getting to it," he mumbled, "Neff gah nuff er impatient ghost."
"Oh Jeremiah," Ulrich called softly, "There's a Hartseer in the bed."
"Nag ger fuff... Wait! What!" Jeremiah sat bolt upright in the bed and gave a roar of pain as he walloped his head on the bunk above him.
"Raise and shine sleepy head," Ulrich beamed, "We've got a beautiful day ahead of us, totally Hartseer free."
Jeremiah rubbed his head and glared as Ulrich left the cabin whistling a jaunty tune. The first sight that greeted him on deck was the chain of sailors stretching from the deck hatch to the side of the ship, right hands passing full buckets along to where they were being emptied over the side and left hands passing them back to the hatch and down out of sight.
Jeremiah emerged from the cabin and walked closer and peered at the contents of the buckets being tipped over the side of the ship. He peered and peered some more, trying to make up his mind. He stretched out a finger towards the contents of the buckets...
"Leave them be!" a voice roared, causing Jeremiah to jerk round.
"Hey Captain," Thorian called up to the poop deck, where the Captain stood grim faced despite the clear skies and the calm weather, "What's up?"
"That little critter left us a parting gift, that's what up," the Captain was the most terse they had ever heard him, "Damn thing has left a collection of holes in the bottom of mah ship. You can thank what ever God you were praying to yesterday for their bounty."
"How do you come to that conclusion, good Captain?" Jeremiah asked before muttering to Ulrich, "Are you sure that your magic tea pot hasn't fallen over?" Ulrich rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"It missed the keel," the Captain responded to Jeremiah's first question, carefully turned the wheel, keeping the Armored Dragon on course but with the minimum amount of lean into the water, "If it had put its teeth into that we would have all been at the bottom of the lake already."
"Yes, that would have been quite the difficulty," Jeremiah agreed, casting his eyes over the cracked hull of one of the long boats, its sides burst from a blow of the Kraken's tentacles.
"I can help with that," Thorian grinned cheerfully, striding towards the hatch way, squeezing his way down below to emerge several minutes later with a water barrel loaded on his shoulder. He staggered and wove his way to the rail of the ship and tipped the entire lot over the side. A ragged cheer went up from the sailors and the effort with the buckets seemed to pick up a little as Thorian hefted his barrel high and a strode off to the hold again.
Jeremiah rolled his eyes at the orc crossbreed's willingness to turn himself in to a pack horse for others to take advantage of. Honestly, why did he have to be teamed up with such a doltish creature? The stupid brute practically asked to be stepped upon. At least most of his kind had the strength to stand up for themselves but this one was too lacking in the brain department to even manage that. In his pockets, the books with the dragon images embossed on the covers warmed in the light of Jeremiah's contempt.
Thorian staggered back up on deck, water slooshing from the top of the barrel and splashing on the back of Thorian's neck. He reeled across the deck, water sploshing not just behind him but also in front of him.
"Look..." Ulrich started. Thorian's foot went down awkwardly in one of the puddles and his leg went out from under him. Thorian crashed down, the water barrel tumbling across deck, leaving Thorian winded on the planks.
"Get that mess off my decks!" the Captain roared, twitching the wheel again. Watching Thorain struggle to get his breath back Ulrich shrugged and went the fetch a mop. Well, he thought it was a mop but not being familiar with manual labor what he actually fetched was a broom.
Watching Ulrich trying to 'mop' the deck, Jeremiah grinned.
"You might find that pushing the water in one direction only might help," he suggested. Ulrich tensed and then visibly relaxed his shoulders, attempting the push and lift technique mastered by housewives the world over since brooms were invented. Jeremiah watched as Ulrich made his way across the deck, trying to keep the puddle of water together in the face of water's natural want to run every where it can.
"I don't think that mopping that water back down into the hold will make you a popular person. Just saying," Jeremiah observed. Ulrich paused, looked about and then changed direction, with a sigh, trying with only some success to sweep the water towards the scuppers in the deck rail of the ship. Jeremiah watched as the puddle of water resisted Ulrich's attempts to shepherd it off the ship.
"It might be that if you use a little more effort then perhaps you'd do something more than tickle the deck enough to make it laugh," Jeremiah commented. Ulrich smacked the head of the broom down on the deck and then froze for a moment. Kaelin, perched in the rigging, helping to rethread a dead eye, looked down, wondering just how big the explosion was going to be.
Ulrich carefully lifted the broom and started rounding up the water again, brushing it towards the nearest scupper.
"Perhaps," he said in a very level tone, "If you would see to squishing your ever generous self down below decks you might be able to discover a way that you could actually help with saving the ship, like everyone else is, rather than merely giving advice. You know? Actually do something useful with that well padded backside of yours, such as sit on the leak. That should plug it up, the lake would probably be too scared of you to try and invade the ship again."
"Yeah it would take one look at that face and run screaming," Thorian grunted as he lugged another barrel to the side of the ship. Jeremiah swelled himself up.
"My dear Thorian," he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes, "If you were listening you would have heard that Ulrich suggested that I sit on the leak, not plug it with my head."
"Yeah," Thorian chucked the contents of the barrel over the side of the ship, "That's what I said, one look at that face and the water would run screaming."
Jeremiah turned a very interesting shade of puce as Kaelin's laughter echoed down from the rigging. Thorian grinned crookedly up at her and winked. Kaelin kept laughing, Ulrich chuckling quietly as he continued to sweep the deck and Jeremiah vibrated in helpless anger. Not only had the orc crossbreed humiliated him, the stupid creature had made Kaelin not only smile, she had outright laughed, laughed at him, Jeremiah, the only one in this whole stupid team that had anything like real power. Stamping his heel, he span towards the deck hatch and stomped down the stairs, heedless that he put the sailors off the rhythm needed to keep the bucket chain going. Squeezing himself into the cramped lower hold, he had to duck swiftly as a midshipman scurried passed, hauling an item that seemed far too big for him to be lugging on his own.
"Get that cargo shifted up you lazy little nerf herder!" the bosun was in full bile, "And you, Lilian, shift that backside of yours!"
"Yes Bosun," a gangling youth with jug ears squeaked as he dragged full sized sea chest across the deck, trying to make room for the ships carpenter. Jeremiah smiled in approval and then stumbled as the rating who'd disappeared a moment earlier squeezed passed in a hurry.
"Watch where yer going, Waghouse, you useless little man," the bosun roared, "What are you Waghouse?"
"A useless little man," Waghouse dutifully replied as he grabbed the next roll of carpet and struggled up under its weight. He span round with it, turned towards the steps... and knocked the bosun flying with its end just as the non-com was drawing breath for another stream of vitriol. With a winded noise the bosun folded backwards, sitting down with a splash in the water slooshing across the floor of the hold.
"Waghouse! You horrible little namby-pamby!" the unlucky Waghouse was already scarpering up the steps, lugging the carpet with all speed possible before the bosun could stand up again.
"And you, what are you doing do here?" the bosun rounded on Jeremiah, "This isn't a sight seeing trip, we've work to do!"
"I assure you my good sir, I am here to lend you my special talents in the salvation of this ship," Jeremiah smiled his most charming smile and inclined his head to the bosun. The bosun wasn't buying it. Behind Jeremiah Thorian came clumping down the steps again and with a might splash, dumped his barrel into the surface of the water before hauling the swiftly filled barrel up and out again. As Thorian started the climb up the stairs Jeremiah turned his head and muttered a small curse.
"Special talents? Ha!" the bosun jammed his fists against his belt, "We need someone can handle a bucket, not a spoon. We need a worker, not a wide mouth eater!"
"Oh really," Jeremiah's expression darkened and he stepped past the bosun without permission, casting his eye over the scene revealed by the lamp hanging from the hook swinging from the beam above. The carpenter and his two boys stood ready, tacking padding and wadding to planks ready to hammer them down the moment the water was shallow enough to manage a decent hit with a hammer on the nail. In the rough middle of the space that had been cleared for them the surface of the water welled up, pushed by the terrific pressure forcing its way in through the holes in the hull. Most were small jets, pluggable with a finger but one was a good near foot in diameter, the water pouring in.
Up on deck there was a yell and a crash that was part splash. Jeremiah tried not to smile at the knowledge that Thorian now had even more bruises and Ulrich would be 'mopping' the deck for even longer. Gazing down at the entrance of the water, Jeremiah fished out one of his books and flipped it open. He looked at the page and started to concentrate, his voice beginning to rise and fall in the cadence of the chant. The bosun rounded on him, blistering bile on the tip of his tongue and then something made him click his teeth together. The unfortunate Lilian whimpered and may have wet himself thought it was difficult to know when the shadows were not moving right. Waghouse appeared on the steps and then disappeared just as quickly. Even the bucket line faltered.
Jeremiah spat the last syllable and wiped his mouth. For some reason it had tasted truly foul this time, like a million years of rotting vegetation and decomposing sea food. The shadows settled back into place. Jeremiah narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the holes in the deck. Any second now.
The bosun drew breath to start unleashing his gall on Jeremiah's little side show...
Something struck the underside of the ship. It wasn't a loud sound but it was some how hollow and just about everyone in the hold heard it. The bosun looked round with a frown, then something scrabbled on the hull. The carpenter straightened and hefted his hammer, eyes wide. The scrabbling came from outside the hull, which meant that it was... underneath... the ship.
A skull burst through the hole in the ship, finger bones erupting through the smaller holes... and jammed half way through. The sailors drew back as it shifted, bone grating against wood but it only seemed to have wedged itself into the gap more thoroughly. Under the surface of the water, eye sockets glared at Jeremiah. He stared back. There was something about the cranium, the way it seemed to have been elongated and tapered to a point. Something about those eye sockets, too far apart for even an orc, was tickling in the back of his brain. There was something... something that this malformed skull was reminding him of... something he'd seen in the Wizard's Tower.
He shook his head as it refused to come into focus and promptly forgot about it.
"Erm, does that thing bite?" sweat was tickling down the carpenter's spooked expression.
"Not unless I tell it too," Jeremiah smiled, "Besides its mouth, if it has one, is below the hull so it can't bite even if it wanted to."
"Get it out of here!" the bosun demanded.
"Do you really want me to?" Jeremiah asked with a smile, "After all it is plugging up the hole fairly well and if I do make it come up through the hull so it can 'get out of here' it is likely to tear the breach wider." Behind him the skull seemed to take on a resigned expression. The carpenter shook his head at the bosun, trying to communicate just how bad a larger breach would be.
"Alright," the bosun grumped after a moment, "How long is it going to stay there?"
"As long as I can maintain the spe... prayer," Jeremiah corrected himself just in time, "Granted I don't know how long that will be, keeping up the concentration is rather tiring." He yawned expansively. Unlike many, the bosun actually understood his hint straight away.
"Move yer afts!" he roared, rounding on the bucket chain as Thorian came clumping back down the stairway, "We've a hold to empty out!"
"Um, how do you maintain the prayer?" Lilian nearly whispered it, eyes still glued to the shiny dome of the skull poking through the bottom of the ship.
"He stands hopping on one leg, waving a branch and saying 'You Mo Glug-wug Gnu Fei Die Zoa'," Thorian before the bosun could round on the unfortunate Lilian and rip him off another strip. The burst of laughter that exploded from the uncomfortable sailors broke their paralysis and the bucket chain started swinging again, water sloshing as it was hauled out of the hold, up and over the side. Jeremiah's smile was a little frozen at the merriment and then he saw the pained expression on the skull's face. What ever the creature was, the experience of being the center of ridicule seemed to inflicted an agony of humiliation on it. It apparently felt the lose of dignity more than even Jeremiah did and once the bosun had sent the ever busy Lilian and Waghouse to set up a couple of boxes and a roll of cloth as a make shift chair so that he could be comfortable, Jeremiah was content to sit and watch the work and every now and then recite the words from his book to maintain the bony visitor who was plugging the gap. It glared at him as the water level slowly decreased, revealing more of its bony cranium to the world. It settled into an expression of resigned dislike as the decreasing flood slowly revealed the jets of water that were coming out of the holes in the back of its eye sockets were the optic nerve had once been housed, turning its skull into a fairly interesting water feature, until the bosun ordered the cringing Waghouse to stuff its eye sockets with rags to stopper the flow.
Eventually the water level was down far enough that buckets were not an efficient method of drying it out. As the bosun ordered Lilian and Waghouse to fetch mops and wringers, Jeremiah stood and paddled through the much shallower waters to the skull. The carpenter, guessing what was coming, gave his boys a shove and they jumped to, seizing the boards with the padded downside and standing ready as the carpenter hefted his nails and hammer.
Drawing himself up Jeremiah recited a string of very impressive sounding long words... which were totally unnecessary. He could have just as easily twitched a finger to end the spell but that would not have had any where near the theatrics of the show he put on and would not have instilled the awe in the sailors. They stood opened mouthed as Jeremiah chanted and the skull gave him one last look of disgust before it and its finger bones crumbled into dust. As the skull disintegrated the water rushed up through the hole... to be met with the board the carpenter's boys clapped down on it, leaning all their weight on it as the carpenter set to work hammering it into place.
Jeremiah gave a satisfied nod and climbed up the stairway, noting with satisfaction how the sailors gave way to him, casting him looks of awe and fear. He could get used to such adulation. He smiled and nodded to those who gave him the most way and raised his hand in the gesture of blessing, making it on deck in time to see Ulrich cast aside his broom and stretch, fists kneading the small of his back. It really was a beautiful day.
Kaelin rubbed her palms to easy the feeling in her fingers as the sailors spliced the last rope of the repaired rigging. The newly repaired sails flapped and then took the strain as the sailors tightened the ropes and the canvas bellied out in the wind. Hooking her leg through the rigging, she gazed round from her favorite perch, watching the fluffy white clouds tumble across the sky like a herd of celestial sheep. Below the Captain finally handed over the wheel to the First Mate, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension of holding the ship above the water for the last umpteen hours. Coming down to the deck he settled himself on a coil of rope and Risk looped back and landed on the railing , folding those enormous wings over and over until he could plop down on the deck and rest his head on the Captain's knee. The sunlight sparkled on the water, the cloud shadows appearing like fish schools near the surface as they raced across the surface. As she gazed out over the water Kaelin spotted what appeared to be a duckling on the water. She frowned. There was something about the perspective that just wasn't quite right, something about how close it appeared to the horizon and yet she could clearly see it. Her ears twitched as she gazed at it. She could have sworn that she could already hear its squeaking piping but that shouldn't be possible unless it was a lot closer to the ship.
The cook had brought up a brazier and was cooking hunks of squid on the deck by the time Kaelin climbed down the rigging.
"People we may have a problem," she said standing on the railing.
"What?" Thorian mumbled round a mouthful of greasy seafood, looking up from gnawing through a squid ring close to the size of a bucket.
"I don't know about you but I don't think ducklings are meant to be that size," she pointed, "And as for Daddy duck..."
Each of the flotilla of ducklings paddling towards the ship were easily the size of shire horses, needing them to only tilt their heads up a little to put their beaks level with the gunwale. Their father however, resplendent in plumage of brilliant green with a white collar above its brown breast, eyed the deck of the ship from the height of the down haul tackle. It quack boomed and echoed over the lake, louder than a fog horn. The ducklings answered back with squeaks and piping and they goggled at this thing of wood that floated on the water like them but did not seem to paddle.
"Steady lads, steady," the Captain called, "We all know Moby Duck here, so keep those hands away from those harpoons. He ain't worried yet so let's not worry him."
"Aww, they're a-door-able," Thorian cooed leaning over the railing, "Here duckies, here duckies."
The massive bundles of fluff blinked at him curiously and paddled closer, peeping as they came.
"Aww they like me," Thorian grinned, "Here duckies." He seized a piece of squid and tossed it out into the water. The yellow puff balls instantly turned into a scrum of flapping and paddling fuzz just before their oversized parent ploughed through the middle of them, all of them trying to reach the tasty tit bit. The ships cook instantly showed how good he was, managing to keep the next batch of squid and fat in the pan as the ship lurched against the slap of sudden swell.
"Whoo!" Kaelin yelled, her feet loosing their grip on the railing, dangling her out over the water. White knuckled she hung on and as the ship rolled back she swung against it and let go, tumbling on to the deck with a slap.
"Ah you like that?" Thorian grinned as the ducklings looked at him expectantly, "Here you go."
"No!" Ulrich yelled but too late. Another lump of squid went sailing out over the side and another scrum of yellow fluffy chaos formed on the water, rocking the ship with its enthusiasm for tit bits. With a yell Ulrich fell over on his butt again.
"My friend," the Captain called, he hand resting on the back of Risk's neck, "as much as I can understand the appeal of feeding the birds, I have to ask you to stop. Mah ship is a sturdy girl but she is not likely to survive a scrum of Moby Ducks trying to adopt her as mummy."
"Oh," Thorian pouted, "I just wanted one as a pet but alright, I suppose it would be a little difficult to look after on board ship."
The bobbing, cheeping fluffy haystacks clustered around the rail, begging for further scraps and the ship rocked again as a couple tried little jumps to try to nibble at Thorian's hand to encourage him to give more. The Armored Dragon then rose on a swell as daddy duck pressed closer as well, his booming quack echoing across the lake.
"Sorry," Thorian held our his empty hands, "All gone, all gone." The ducklings didn't quite take the hint, pressing closer to the railing.
"It's all gone," Thorian laughed but the quack daddy duck uttered was suspicious in the extreme. The massive mallard turned its head back and forth, glaring at Thorian put of alternative eyes. Risk hopped up on the rail and lifted his wings slightly. The ducklings immediately turned their heads, eyeing this new thing with wonder. Risk turned and padded up the railing to where Thorian leaned on it. Turning to face the massive beast, Risk semi opened his wings and gave a long piecing cry, haunting in its lonely over tones. The ducklings feel back startled by the sounds and Moby Duck reared slightly in the water.
Rick cried again and let loose a string of shorter, almost yapping sounds. Moby duck settled down in the water and quacked again, slightly quieter than he had before. Risk replied in his high, piercing call, barking the following phrases. Moby Duck turned slightly, quacking again and the ducklings looked at their over sized father, peeping their questions at him. Maby Duck quacked in a tone that brooked no argument and the ducklings started trailing after him as he turned to paddle down the wake of the ship.
"Bye bye duckies," Thorian waved a hand, "Bye bye."
Jeremiah oozed up to the deck rail.
"You really did like them, didn't you?" he asked.
"Yeah," Thorian grinned, "They were cute. Hey, do you suppose that I could have flown on one of them once they were bigger?"
"I don't see why not," Jeremiah smiled, "Once they had their flight feathers in I would judge it to be expectable in fact."
"Now that would have been cool!" Thorian's eyes shone at the memory of how it had felt to fly with Amelia. To see freedom for the first time and to have one of his own, to go to freedom when ever he wanted it...
"In fact I suppose I could even arrange such a thing," Jeremiah smiled more broadly, "Call it making up for the mess with Calypso."
"Wait? What?" Thorian immediately frowned, gazing at Jeremiah with distrust.
"Well, if you just killed Moby Duck, I could bring it back and tell it to obey..." Jeremiah broke off as Thorian turned away from the railing and stomped back to where the chef was fishing another giant piece of squid out of the pan with a carving fork.
"Dear Thorian, what on Hestia is the matter?" Jeremiah followed him, his palms open with good will.
"You," Thorian rounded on him bluntly, "You're what's the matter. Yer really do think I'm thick, don't you? Yer really do think that I ain't got a brain in mah head, don't you?"
"Now really, my dear Thorian," Jeremiah smiled and spread his hands wider, "Have I ever said anything along those lines?"
"Nah, but yer don't have to," Thorian glowered down at Jeremiah and the fat priest suddenly realized that he might have pushed his luck the wrong way, "Yer give me that dog and tell me he's mah pet from now on and not a handful of days later he's all curled up and deaded. Now yeh go and promise me another pet and yeh think I'm not smart enough to work out that pet isn't gunna end up the same way as Calypso. You really do think I'm thick."
"My dear, dear Thorian," Jeremiah smiled still, "I understand that you are upset about Calypso but if you had Moby Duck following you around then all the ducklings would follow him and therefore follow you."
"Until Moby Duck ended up deaded just like Calypso," Thorian stood his ground, "Then how am Aye supposed to look after them all?"
"That and how much of a battering do you think this ship would handle before we managed to bring down Moby Duck?" Ulrich called over, "I don't think either of you would be that popular with the sailors if you get the rigging ripped up when they have only just finished fixing it."
"I know I wouldn't be voting him for favorite person of the year," Kaelin flexed her fingers and shook them out before popping an over sized piece of squid into her maw and chewing it, the grease dribbling over her chin. Jeremih shuddered at the sight.
"So no, no I ain't interested," Thorian scowled down at Jeremiah, "You can take that offer... take that offer and stuff it... stuff up you robes!"
"Now really Thorian," Jeremiah admonished, "What a thing to say. Do you think I would be able to fit it in here with me?"
"I don't see why not," Kaelin observed wryly, "You have everything else up there."
Ulric gave a very undignified snorted and pressed a hand to his mouth. Jeremiah looked at all of them and then turned on his heel and walked, with as much dignity as possible, to the cabin. The door shut with a muffled bang.
Kaelin looked at the other two and asked with a perfectly straight face, "Was it something I said?"
*
By the time the cry of 'Land Ho!' rang out, the sky had become a sullen iron grey and the rain pattered down on the deck with the rhythm that said that it was going to be here for the next week. Kaelin had watched the clouds roll over the sky with her hands tense but it appeared that the weather was nothing more than normal weather, damp and chill. The sailors had pulled on oilskins and saw to their work with bent heads, rain drops dripping down their collars.
As the glooming of evening commenced the walls of Nether Wallop came into view, crouching back from the water's edge, hunched and brooding. The ground between the town and the single dock stretching out in to the water was dismal and obviously regularly flooded. Beside the dock another ship rocked on the low surf and as the Armored Dragon limped into dock her crew came down the gangplank to catch the ropes that where tossed over the Armored Dragon's side and lash them to the bollards. A rugged looking dwarf with tattooed arms clumped down the gangplank to stand on the wharf where the gangplank from the Armored Dragon clanked down.
"You barmy old sea dog!" he roared, "I should have guessed that it would have been you who would run the gauntlet over the lake! Just how did you do it?"
"With a lot of help from these good friends of mine," the Captain gestured to where the King's Special lent on the railing. Ulrich lifted a hand and royally waved, Jeremiah made the sign of blessing, Thorian beamed and Kaelin rolled her eyes.
"Well you have to be the luckiest damn bunch of crazies ever," the dwarf boomed.
"Blessed," Jeremiah corrected as he stepped on to the gangplank, "Blessed."
"Still, looks like you still took a beating," the dwarf sniffed as several sailors manhandled the busted longboat over the ship's side and lowered it into the water. The moment they cast the lines off, they threw them to a gang who were waiting on the warf, who set to dragging the rapidly filling boat towards the shore.
"Aye," the Captain agreed, "She'll be in dry dock for several weeks now."
"Hit below the water line?" the dwarf captain asked.
"The little critter rather bit her on the bottom," Thorian grinned as he clumped down the gangplank.
"How the heck did you make it over?" the dwarf demanded.
"Lots of bailing," Ulrich admitted, stretching an arm over his head.
"And a little help from the gods," Jeremiah smiled benevolently.
"Or a set of bones," Thorian still grinned, "So what's been happening while you've been here?"
"Nothing good," the dwarf admitted, "You'll have to hurry if you want to make it into the town before they shut the doors. I've never much liked elves, bunch of stuck up pufters if you ask me, but this lot are the worse. Most elves seem to think that they are the gods' gift to the world; this lot want to cut you off at the knees so you have no choice but to lick their boots."
"That sounds rather aggressive for elves," Jeremiah admitted, "Most elves are isolationist in the extreme. Do these elves happen to have rather grey skin and carry swords like the one that my friend there is holding?"
The dwarf frowned at Ulrich and with a sigh, Ulrich pulled the sword that he'd looted off of the bandit out of its scabbard. There was no way he was getting the one Felicity had given him wet in this weather. The dwarf captain had a good look and then nodded.
"Those are the ones alright," he grunted, "Right vicious buggers." He turned to the Captain, "Me and my boys will be putting out into deeper water for the night. You are welcome to join us and if you're crews quick we can take on some of the more valuable cargo so they don't steal it from you."
"And would you be charging me for the use of your hold space while you're at it?" the Captain asked with a knowing smile splitting his face.
"Well a little fee would be helpful," the dwarf spread his hands, "We've been stuck in port far too long but I still owe you for saving our bacon all those back from Cheng Shy so I'll let you decide how much you'll give as a gift to an old friend."
"That is mighty generous of you and we will discuss the price later," the Captain agreed. Turning he roared up the gangplank, "Lads, we're shifting the cargo and make it quick! First Mate you see to the emptying of the hold, most valuable first. Bosun you keep an eye on where it is stowed, we don't want anything going walk about."
"What about you lot?" the dwarf asked, turning to the King's special.
"We probably need to be getting up to the town," Jeremiah said apologetically.
"You might find the gates already shut," the dwarf looked up at the clouds, "Those burgers seem to come out with the dark."
"Well if we get a move on we can go and check," Kaelin shrugged, "If they won't let us in then we can come back down here and help out with the work."
"Your necks you're risking," the dwarf sniffed and shook rain out of his beard.
"Thinking of it though," Kaelin probed between her teeth with a fingernail, "If we have to get in like we did at Lotton, it might be an idea if we leave the animals behind."
"Oh won't you becoming with us, my dear?" Jeremiah asked as Hat drooped over the point of his miter, raindrops sparkling in his fur. Kaelin gave him a flat, unfriendly stare.
"Now there's an idea," Ulrich said, "If we leave the mounts on board for the night, they could act as security and we'll pick them up if we need to in the morning. That way, hopefully, those Ash elves will take the hint and leave the ship alone as well."
"You really are true friends," the Captain clasped each of their hands as the dwarf turned away to order his crew to make room for the cargo transfer.
"Here," Thorian dug in his jerkin and pulled out a small pouch, placing it in the Captain's hand, "I know yer said that you'd waver yeh fee if we got yeh across the lake but seeing as yeh took more damage than yeh expected, Aye thought this would help yeh out."
The Captain balanced it in his palm for a moment and then put his other hand on Thorian's shoulder.
"Thorian Vandervast, you may be green but you have a bigger soul than many a man I have met," the Captain nodded, "If you ever need a ship again you know where to find me. May the gods ship you good luck."
"We certainly try," Jeremiah smiled. The Captain looked at him and although he smiled, there was something in his face that said he knew Jeremiah better than the other hoped he did. After a moment Jeremiah turned away and led the way up the track to Nether Wallop.
"Onwards my brothers and sisters," he called into the gloomy rain, "On to our destinies."
"We few, we lucky few," Ulrich muttered as he turned to follow.
"We band of buggered," Kaelin replied.
The walk up to the gates was a longer slog than any of them had reckoned, the gradual slope of the land forcing Nether Wallop to be set much farther back than would be usual to avoid the winter floods, and every step of the way was squelched though mud. Kaelin rubbed the straggles of her hair out of her face as the shower continued. She shivered as they stepped into the recess of the city gates.
Jeremiah raised his hand and thumped on the heavy oak planks. They waited, the rain hissing passed the edge of the city walls. After even Thorian had started to frown, Jeremiah lifted his hand and banged again on the planks again. After a moment there was a scuffling on the other side of the gates and what sounded like a half whispered conversation.
"Who goes there?" a voice that bore its frown demanded.
"The King's Special come to bring order to Nether Wallop," Jeremiah proclaimed in his grandest voice. On the other side of the gate there was further muttered conversation.
"You claim to be a King's Special," the frowning voice spoke again, "Well if you are what you claim to be you'd be able to name the King's Blade, so what's his name?"
Jeremiah rocked back on his heels and screwed his eyes shut.
"I am not going to say it," he muttered between clenched teeth, "You can't make me say it, you can't make me say it."
"The name of the King's Blade is Hartseer," Kaelin stepped forward with an eye roll, "There are four of us out here, we are cold, wet, tired and grumpy. All we want is to get into town, have a hot wash, a decent meal and a comfortable bed, preferably in that order before heading up to have words with the Governor first thing tomorrow, so we can get this mess sorted out, report back to the King and then get on with our lives."
Behind the door there was another muttered conversation.
"Alright, here's what we're going to do," the guard captain said, "We're going to let a rope down over the battlements. You come up one at a time. We find out you're anything but what you say you are then you are heading off to the next life, you got that?"
"Er," Thorian held up a hand even though nobody was there to see it, "I might want to say here that I'm a orc cross, just so you know. I don't want any trouble so if you just make sure that we don't our feet in the same spot, we should get along fine."
"What do you mean about our feet," the voice on the other side of the door sounded puzzled.
"I don't want to step on anybody's feet," Thorian admitted, "I have a habit of doing that and everybody always becomes real mad at me for it. Kind of how I got put on the King's Special."
"What?" the voice sounded shocked, "You stepped on the King's Foot?"
"Nah," Thorian corrected, "I fell over in the market place but I fell on top of someone. Fancy looking bloke with lots of glittery rings on his fingers and I think I sort of squished him. Any way can we get on with getting up this rope thing, it's cold out here." There was a slither and a flop behind him and a rope downed into sight over his shoulder. "Ah thank yeh very much."
Kaelin was already heading up the wall, there was no way she was going to hang around waiting for who ever the guards feared to turn up. The guards at the top of the wall looked taken aback as her head popped up over the edge of the battlement. There was a steely ring as several swords came out of their scabbards and they were all pointed at her. Kaelin applied several seconds of thought to the problem.
"I would put my hands up," she observed, "But if I do I'm likely to fall off backwards so can I get on to the top of the wall before you arrest me, please?"
An older, grizzled looking veteran stepped forward and slowly, with the point of his sword, lifted her hair away from her ears as he tipped a torch towards her face, far too close to be comfortable.
"Elf in your blood line?" he demanded.
"No," Kaelin sighed, "My grandfather and father used to like to howl at the moon, if you follow my meaning." The guard captain looked at her with narrowed eyes.
"Used to?" he demanded.
"If the guards I let in where any good then they were both corpse meat years ago and Great Sess to the pair of them," Kaelin stated, a sour twist to her mouth. These guards didn't need to know she was beginning to doubt how well those guards back then had done their job.
"Alright," the guard captain stepped back, "Up you get." Kaelin scrambled over the rim gratefully. Her finger tips had been going numb and she hadn't been sure how much longer she would have been able to hold on for.
Down below a quick discussion had been going on as two who rode the rope first.
"I think it should be Thorian," Jeremiah said, "After all, if it is a dodgy rope then having the heaviest of us go up first will find any faults in it and Thorian would be able to help pull both of us up once we are up there."
"Alright," Ulrich agreed, scanning the surround terrain, the nervousness of the guards having infected him. There was something wrong about this town, there was something wrong about the level of fear here.
"Okay-dokey," Thorian grabbed the rope and after a moment of struggling and straining, began to lift up into the dark of the evening. Above Kaelin stepped forward and seized the rope with the guards. One of them flinched at having her near her but a flinch was better than a hit so she brushed it off. Together they managed to haul Thorian's weight high enough that he could grab the battlement and pull himself up and over.
"Thankee muchly," he grinned as he stood up. Most of the guards were too winded to reply as the guard captain coiled up the rope again and tossed it over the wall.
Ulrich was still scanning the surrounding territory, senses straining to pierce the rain sodden gloom when one ear registered the damp thump of the return of the rope. He gave the surroundings one last piercing gaze... and turned to find Jeremiah had already seized the rope, slipped his foot into the loop tied at the end and give the rope two swift jerks. The smile Jeremiah shot Ulrich definitely had an edge of spite to it but then he cried out as he shot up into the darkness at break neck speed.
"Up you come," Thorian beamed as he seized the front of Jeremiah's robes and lifted him bodily over the battlements.
"Did you have to pull it out of shape?" Jeremiah exclaimed as Thorian set him on his feet, his hands tugging and smoothing the rumpled material.
"Sorry," Thorian's ears drooped, then perked up, "Still only one left."
"Do we really think it is a good idea bringing him into the town?" Jeremiah asked. The guard captain glanced round as he coiled up the rope.
"Does he have a fire ball addiction?" he grunted, flipping the rope out into the darkness.
"Oh nothing like that, per say," Jeremiah sounded reassuring and not at the same time, "It is just our last companion is noble born, one of those noble borns who think that everything he wants is his by right. Everything he wants."
"Trying to slander my good name?" Ulrich's grin was wolfish as Thorian hauled him over the battlements, "Well sorry to tell you, old bean, but my name got slandered enough when I was born so you are too late to the party."
"Oh really?" Jeremiah raised an eyebrow, "Is that what the chamber maid said? How is the little boy these days?"
Ulrich went to say something to the guard captain and then froze as he figured out what Jeremiah was insinuating.
"Why you!" he swing round.
"Enough of that!" the guard captain seized Ulrich's wrist and twisted it into a very effective lock before Ulrich could even launch the punch, "I'll have no brawling in my town! You want to beat the crap out of each other, do it outside the city gates tomorrow. While you're inside my town you keep it under control, understand?"
"I can assure you, Captain, that I have no intention of beating the, ah, crap out of anyone," Jeremiah beamed, despite the rain soaking through his clothes, "Isn't that right, Ulrich?"
"Of course not," Ulrich nearly snarled, "You'll just try and make everyone believe I'd do to a maiden what was done to my mother. You really are the lowest piece of..."
"Enough!" the guard captain shook him slightly and Ulrich gritted his teeth against the pain flaring in his shoulder, "There will be no fighting in this town! Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," Ulrich muttered after a moment, forcing himself to relax, "And thank you for your consideration this night. It was certainly greater than some of our party have shown." The guard captain grunted as he let go of Ulrich's wrist and stepped back.
"Colt, Wesson, take these people to the Lumberman's Casket for the night. Make sure they are settled there. Wilder, send word up to the Governor's House about these people, let's make sure he knows to expect them in the morning." The guards moved to his commands, one scurrying off down the steps and off up the street while two others stepped forward and gestured for the King's Special to follow them. With a sigh Ulrich turned to follow the one who headed down the steps first, the second falling in at the back of the group.
The streets were not as bad as they could have been, having been laid with split logs so they weren't sinking ankle deep in mud but the detritus of countless autumns had built up over the years and rotted down in the cracks as well as some of the logs having started to go spongy. By the time they made it to the Inn called the Lumberman's Casket they were all soaked through and shivering.
"In you go," one of the guards said, either Colt or Wesson, gesturing to the door, "But any trouble here tonight and we will know who to come and find so don't start any funny business, not unless you want to spend the night in the sky cells."
"The sky cells, my good man?" Jeremiah asked, "Pray forgive me but I am unfamiliar with the term."
"Look about you," the other guard, again either Colt or Wesson, Jeremiah still could not decide which was which, said, "Do you really think this town is big enough to have a set of jail cells?"
"I have to admit that I would have supposed that they were under the guardhouse," Jeremiah admitted with a smile. The two guards looked at each other and burst out laughing. Jeremiah stood, his smile gradually becoming more and more pained as the guards continued to crease themselves up with laughter.
"Oh that was rich," either Colt or Wesson said at last, wiping his eyes, "Thinking a one horse town like this had a purpose built guardhouse. Oh, wouldn't that be just lovely."
"Oh yes but even if we had one any jail cells underneath it would be half full of water all the time," the other of either Colt or Wesson observed, "Would that be doing jail time or swimming time?"
"Just out of interest why the water problem," Ulrich turned back to the guards, half pushing passed Jeremiah to do so. Well two could play the fat priest's game.
"This close to the lake? Everything's water logged," one of either Colt or Wesson told him, "Heck people keep their food stuffs in the loft to make sure that it doesn't get damaged round here."
"So let me guess, the sky cells are also in a loft," Ulrich smiled properly since Jeremiah had insinuated that he had a uncared for child.
"Outside of it rather," one guard grinned, "Lovely views all around, plenty of fresh air and water delivered by the gods themselves."
"Well in that case we'll be sure to keep things quiet tonight," Ulrich grinned, "Wouldn't want you to have to traipse up and downstairs at all hours of the night. Come along, Jeremiah, let's get in out of the rain. I don't know about you but I think I've had enough of the gods work load for one night."
"It is ill luck to mock the gods," Jeremiah grunt sourly as he turned towards the inn door.
"You heard what he said," Ulrich corrected him, "Round here the gods deliver the water but Ive had enough of their gifts for one night. If nothing else they don't seem to know how to heat the rain." Still chuckling at Jeremiah's scandalized expression, Ulrich pushed open the door of the Lumberman's Casket. If the outside of the building hadn't been prepossessing then the inside came as a welcome surprise. Though the ceiling was low it was rustic and clean, pressed clay tiles on the floor and lanterns doted here and there to provide light. The bar was built round a large fire pit over which a cauldron bubbled with brown and a large joint of meat turned on the spit. A smaller cauldron steamed to one side of the fire pit and it turned out that there was a wash room, though they had to get in line for it as it was only one stall and could take only one at a time. In one corner, a small stage had been built and on it a young woman stood, a strange instrument in her hands. It looked like two, weirdly shaped blocks of wood, one with a set of keys like a piano, the other covered in knobs, joined by a pleated paper lantern that she was pulling in and out to make the music as the fingers of one hand skittered up and down the keys. She was singing a cheerful, rousing drinking song and the barman was grinning as the mugs filled and the coins jingled. What really made Jeremiah stare at her was the fact that three instruments were playing but she was only holding one and she was the only person on stage. The other two instruments hovered in the air around her with no one to hold them as the belting tune continued.
"Now that is something you don't see everyday of the week," Thorian observed, "I didn't know humans could grow horns." That made Jeremiah do a double take and he had to concede that Thorian was right, the woman on stage was not wearing a headdress, the brightly painted and glass gem encrusted horns were growing directly from her skull, sweeping her hair back from her brow before arching upwards near the back of her head and the beat of the tambourine that underlined the main music was not an instrument but rather the flattened rings that were threaded on to the loop that was at the end of her tail that twitched in time with the music. As the song ended the patrons of the bar roared for another and she duly obliged, a foot stomping ballad belting out.
It was towards the end of the meal that the tavern door banged open hard enough that the building seemed to shake on its foundations. Dead silences fell, the hovering instruments falling silent as every face turned to where the rain splashed on the threshold.
Hartseer loomed in the doorway and a sudden growl of thunder echoed through the room. Thorian's ears drooped and Ulrich shuffled in his seat. Hartseer was angry. Maybe because he had spent more time with the King's Blade, Ulrich could see it but something in the way Hartseer stood meant Ulrich could tell that he was angry. No, scratch that, Hartseer was furious, he was at the point that most people would be spitting nails. There was an awful possibility of violence suddenly in the room.
"Really old boy," Jeremiah protested, only giving Hartseer the barest glance, "Are you always going to be interrupting our meals, it is really rather impolite you know, see as you can't eat can you?"
Hartseer zeroed in on Jeremiah and Ulrich tried to sink down in his seat as the King's Blade stalked across the room. The anger rolled off of Hartseer like heat off of red hot iron and Ulrich closed his eyes a moment when he realized that Hartseer was carrying an already bared blade. Then he looked again. Hartseer was actually carrying it, it was not one of his own and it was another akin to the ones that Ulrich himself carried. Hartseer loomed over the table until the top of his head brushed the ceiling.
Kaelin didn't know where to look first, the deadly blade or the blanket wrapped bundle Hartseer held cradled in his other three arms with a tenderness at odds with the fury bubbling below his surface. And then, some how, Hartseer managed to reign some of that howling rage in.
"The ones who carry these," he laid the sword on the table with extreme precision and his voice was full of utter control, "They are not innocent. You can do to them what you like."
"Well I have to say that is rather generous of you," Jeremiah didn't look up from his plate, "Any particular reason you have decided to let my have some fun with them or are you just in a bad mood because of the indignity of having to do some work to keep up with us for a change?"
Both Kaelin and Ulrich closed their eyes, waiting for the blow to fall. Instead the bundle in Hartseer's arms shifted and his attentions shifted to calming it, patting its back and murmuring soothing sounds at odds to his appearance and the anger he had carried a moment before. Intrigued Kaelin stood, her mouth opening as the bundle shifted again and a small blonde head came into view, cradled against Hartseer's shoulder.
"Who is she?" Kaelin asked, gazing at the girl child, who gazed back her with a wide eyed but dreadfully blank expression.
"Who is she? Who is she?" the child parroted back without a flicker of expression and Kaelin felt herself go cold. Memories of others, children and adults alike, who she had seen reduced to this state, made the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck so hard her skin ached.
"Hush, hush, it's alright right now," Hartseer rocked without seeming to know that he did so, "It's alright."
"It's right, it's alright," the girl's wide eyed expression didn't change as she repeated the words. The sound of the little voice made Jeremiah look up.
"Please Hartseer don't hurt me any more," he said with an unpleasant grin, "Please Hartseer don't hurt me any more."
"Don't hurt me any more," the little girl repeated, "Don't hurt me any more."
Hartseer's eyes seemed to glow with an unholy flame. Fast a striking serpent, his hand twisted into the front of Jeremiah's robes and half lifted him from his seat, slamming him back against the wall as Hartseer turned his stance to put the whole of his body between Jeremiah and the child.
"If you were not part of the King's Special I would strip your bones clean and fed them to the pigs!" Hartseer did not thunder but some how the quietness with which he spoke was even worse, his voice hitting pitches and tones that made Thorian's gut clench with terror, "How dare you use a child in your foul games? You dierth, darn budr o budreddi a anwyd yn y gwter!"
The language Hartseer slipped into seemed to be all snarls and half spat syllables, that painted their meaning, if not their full content, on to the air in shades of blue and red. His hand dropped its hold on the priests front without warning, leaving Jeremiah struggling to hold himself from sliding down on to the floor in a tangle of robes and chair. Turning, Hartseer stalked across the room, arms wrapped protectively around the child. The door did not slam shut but the noise was most definitely final and the silence remained in the room for several moments. Frantically the bar man gestured at the singer in the corner and she started up another jaunty tune with a chorus that soon had everyone singing along. In their corner, most of the King's Special soon excused themselves, claiming that they were tired and headed to bed, leaving Jeremiah one his own.
He sat and watched as most of the patrons wandered their way home, some heading upstairs to rooms hired from the inn. As the numbers wound down he bought two tankards of ale but left them on the table until the last patron left and the barman locked the door for the night. The singer packed up her instruments and stretched, flexing her fingers before she turned and faced Jeremiah.
"I take it that as you haven't touched either of those you want words with me," she stated as she walked towards the table.
"You are observant as you are talented," Jeremiah flattered, pushing one tankard towards her.
"Have to be, when you are a bard on the road," she grinned, showing off a mouthful of sharp teeth, "Read a crowd wrong and you'll be lucky if you are run out of town. You however, love to take stupid risks." She lounged into a chair
"And what makes you say that?" close to he could see that her skin was not the usual shade of human skin but rather a rich pink color that made him think of an illustration he had seen of a bird called a flamingo. For some reason he found himself smiling more broadly at her than he intended.
"Provoking the King's Blade like that," she took a mouthful of her drink, "I've heard tales about him and yeash, does he have a thing about protecting children. He'd protect a goblin if it was a child so, as I said, a very stupid risk."
"I guess being shut up in an Abbey most of your life doesn't help you learn how to judge the risks you are taking," Jeremiah admitted. Some how he didn't mind the criticism coming from her.
"So what were you interested in talking to me about?" she crossed one shapely leg over the other, her tail describing lazy arcs through the air. "I'm Mirthrax by the way, Mirthrax the Laughing."
"Well I couldn't help but noticing your amazing talent with multiple instruments Mirthrax and I as wondering if you play them just off of memory or whether you can read written music?"
"Play them off of memory but I do have an interest in learning more. Can learn them from listening or reading the sheets so why do you ask?" she replied with smile to answer his own.
"Well, I was recently given a rather interesting manuscript," Jeremiah dug in his pocket, "But unfortunately I have no talent at reading sheet music so I've been trying to find someone who can." He laid Michael Azrael's magnum opus on the table and turned it so she could see it properly. With a nod he gestured for her to inspect it. Uncrossing her legs, she set her tankard don far away from the book and carefully opened the front cover. Her eyes opened wide as she read the title page.
"Michael..." she breathed and then looked up at Jeremiah, "Do you have any idea what you have here?"
"As I said, my education did not include reading sheet music so I am afraid I don't," the half truth was easy enough to tell.
"Michael Azrael was the greatest musician of his age on the Lost Continent, possible the Greatest Musician ever! Most of his work vanished when contact with the Lost Continent was broken, we have a handful of fragments of his work and a scattering of references to him and here you are with a full copy of one of his greatest works ever!" her eyes, pretty golden eyes, were huge with wonder, "Where did you get this?"
"A recluse I've met in our journey gave it to me," Jeremiah spun a tale that was easy to remember, "He said he wanted the music to be heard again. Do you suppose you could play it?"
"Suppose?" her fingers carefully flicked through some of the pages, "I know I can play this. It won't have the full sound, as I can't control a full orchestra, but that is the beautiful thing with Azrael's work - it is so easy to adapt the baseline melody. He writes songs that anyone can hum. They get into your head and hang about for weeks."
"I see," Jeremiah nodded, beginning to have an inkling about how Michael was going to show him the great things he had promised. In the distance he seemed to hear the bow on the stings of an unseen cello.
Mirthrax continued to read.
"Can I take a copy of this?" she looked up.
"Now that is the thing," Jeremiah agreed, "I've been wondering whether I could get more copies of this created as just having one does seem to be something of a risk but I have no idea where I could get such a thick manuscript copied while I have to travel so much."
"If you're going to be about the town for a week or so, I can have a dozen copies done for you like that," she clicked her fingers.
"Can you my dear?" Jeremiah smiled at her.
"Not a problem," she grinned and turned slightly in her seat, "Pack? Come here boy." By her instrument cases her backpack twitched. It turned around and shuffled over to her feet.
"Open up please," she patted it and its top flap flipped up. She dug inside it for a moment as Jeremiah stared and then pulled out a thick book bound in brown leather. She flipped it open to reveal a blank page and laid it beside the magnum opus. She carefully laid the forefinger of her left hand on the magnum opus and the forefinger of the right hand on the blank page. As she started moving them in parallel a copy of the writing on the magnum opus began appearing on the blank book. Jeremiah gazed in wonder as page after page of writing appeared in front of his eyes. After a while he reached out and as she reached the end of each page he would flip the pages over to the next one for her. He wasn't sure how late it was when the last page was done but a complete and perfect copy of Michael Azrael's magnum opus laid beside the original.
"There," Mirthraz was smiling with tiredness but she was unmistakably contented with her work, "Now if you would like to keep that one," she pushed the original back towards him, "I'll be able to make more copies off of this one." She picked up her own copy. "That is, if you don't mind me making more copies."
"My dear, I would be honored if you made as many copies as you could and spread them far and wide," Jeremiah beamed, "I feel that music will really only sing its true song when it has been heard from one end of this country to the other. If you could do a few copies for me as well, I would truly be grateful."
"As I said, if you are going to be hanging around this town for a while I can do you a good half a dozen copies, maybe a dozen depending on the time," Mirthrax promised.
"I think half a dozen would suffice," Jeremiah replied, "Any more and I think my pockets would burst."
"However," Mirthrax yawned and stretched, "I need my beauty sleep. See you around?"
"I can hope so," Jeremiah stood and inclined his head to her as he tucked the original into his pocket. As she walked away a restful, peaceful tune hovered on the edge of Jeremiah's hearing and he headed towards the steps himself. Somehow he didn't even mind that he was having to share a room with all his team mates, tumbling into bed and into sleep almost at once.
And the threads of the music followed him down into the dark.
