The journey, continued

Previously: Esmiralda and her companions have discovered that the shattered ship--found upside-down and in the middle of a forest—was once captained by Harfirgorn the Merciless, a pirate of some repute that had long ago vanished. They find an old log book in the captain's quarters and decide to take it into the light, where they hope to discover more clues to his final resting place—and the treasure that he is most likely buried with...


Later, much later, we paused to rest and take stock of our situation. Seymuhr pulled a pair of dried spider legs out of his pouch and offered me  one. I declined as politely as I could, struggling to keep the contents of my stomach where they were. He shrugged and bit noisily into one of the scorched appendages, making that internal struggle that much more difficult.


Merrick stopped beside me, resting both hands on his thick staff. "What are you thinking?"


I was caught momentarily unaware. It was strange for me to be asked such a blunt question. I was a Falcuhn, a historian, known for recording thoughts and actions, places and things. It was mildly flattering to be asked what I thought of them. I glanced again at my companions, Broo-Fang Tane, the Optimist Monk; Seymuhr: short, squat and smelly, but a warrior of fearsome ability and Merrick, whose service to the crown was secondary to his service to the human race.


"I wonder if we're heading in the right direction," I said honestly. The wrecked ship was far behind us. Ahead, I saw only trees and, beyond them, the white-capped peaks of the Mountains of Vemt.


He nodded. "As do I. It only stands to reason, however, that our quarry headed toward a more remote location. In any other direction, they may have encountered towns, villages or the like--and the people that inhabit them would likely have taken notice of such a strange group so laden with treasure."


"Hmm." Most of what he said was true. But if people were to notice odd groups, we might as well have been carrying a wooden target on our backs.


"I don't know what you're so worried about," Seymuhr said. He wiped the last traces of spider juice off his grizzled chin and flung it to the ground, where it slapped against a clump of grass. "It matters not where we walk. 'Tis a good day for it, anyway. Most likely we will find nothing but a moldy corpse in a deep cave--if that."


"And if we find more?"


He gave me a hungry smile and tapped the maces that hung on either side of his hip. "Fear not."


I nodded. I had seen him wield those weapons before, and was comforted--of a bit sickened--by his ability.


"Let's hope they will be as useful against this enemy as they were against the Hunan," I muttered. With that, I signaled toward the mountains and we started off once more.