Down on maim street

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 vanished long ago. Following clues in a log book they find in the pirate’s quarters, they hope to discover his final resting place. On the way, they meet up with a lady of the wood, whose husband has succumbed to the vile magic of the pirate's witch. Together, they search for the source of her vile magic. They approach a small village in hopes of news, information or, at least, a hot meal.

Then, a small group of villagers show up and push a little too far...


As his high-pitched growl reached a crescendo, Broo Fang Tane spun, tore out his tormentor's eye, held it high, crushed it on the table in front of him and then crammed the shattered orb back into the ruined socket with the heel of his hand. Each separate action was punctuated by a bizarre war cry, and all three completed before the man had a chance to scream.


And scream he did: a shrill wail of pain, shock and fear. Lobern staggered and clapped a hand over the wound, his remaining eye wide with horror. Blood leaked between his fingers. He opened his mouth to scream anew, but Tane silenced him with a swift kick that sent him sprawling.


"Was it worth it?!?" Tane shouted to the other two. Veins stood out on his forehead and neck. His eyes blazed with fury and his cheeks were red with rage. "Are you laughing now??"


Gorb had frozen in place. He started to back away, but Tane was on him, pounding his trunk with a flurry of blows that left him coughing pink mist. He sank to his knees, wheezing, holding a nearby bench


Merrick grabbed me and pulled me to the floor. He tucked his head under his hands and hissed at me to stay put.


"There's nothing to do now," he whispered. "When his fury takes him, you can only get out of the way."


"But..."


"Be silent, woman!" He hissed. "You'll kill us all, and anyone else nearby as well!"


The third villager bolted toward the door and Seymuhr, who was watching Tane's outburst with a sort of amused respect, let him go.


Tane looked around the tavern room, hands still clenched into blood-soaked fists. The tavern keep had stopped where to was, his face slack with horror. He carried a try laden with new glasses of ale and it tipped dangerously before he recovered himself and leveled it off.


"He'll bring others," Merrick called to Seymuhr with a gesture toward the door that now hung open.


"I know," Seymuhr rasped.


Baram was the only one who had not fled, flinched or otherwise acted during Tane's bloody outburst. Now she made a soft cooing sound, her head tilted slightly to the side. Her eyes widened and her expression softened. She moved--very, very slowly--toward Tane, whose breath came in ragged gasps through his flared nostrils. She reached out to him.


"Oh, no," Merrick said as he closed his eyes in an expectant grimace. "I liked her, too."


But Tane did not flinch from her touch, nor did he attack her. His breathing slowed and he closed his eyes. With a deep sigh, he hung his head. "I did it...a...gain...didn't...I?"


"Again?" I wondered aloud.


"I told you he does not mix well with people," Merrick answered. Then he let me go, and pushed himself up to his knees. Evidently the danger was over.


Lobern was still prone, although it looked like he lived. Blood seeped out of his ruined socket. The other, Gorb, was dribbling blood into a small pool below him.


"I guess not," I muttered. "Bones of Barnok. We...we should leave this place. Shouldn't we?"


Merrick did not have time to respond. For the third villager had returned and I could see, behind him, the shape of several others. I wasn't sure if I should reach for my knife or crawl further under the table. Tane seemed, for the moment, calm. If Seymuhr thought the group of men was a threat, he didn't show it.


The villager, however, held up his hands. "We don't want to fight," he said. "We need your help."


Next: The Mountain Witch's Reach