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...
Everyone was silent for a moment. The newcomer's eyes widened in shock and fear when he saw the carnage that Tane had just unleashed upon the tavern. He swallowed and edged back toward the door.
"What sort of help?" Baram's soothing voice cut the tension. She stood next to Broo Fang Tane, her right hand resting gently on the smaller man's left shoulder.
"You had best speak up, and speak quickly," Merrick suggested. "I am not certain that my companion's thirst for vengeance has been slaked."
"Ayuh," Seymuhr put in with a slight chuckle. "It's unlike him to stop at two."
"We...we...mean no harm, none of us do--even they didn't if I'm allowed a guess. We have always welcomed strangers to our lands, for they bring news of Korin, different goods to trade, or skills."
"Your wel...come leaves somethi...ng to be de................sired," Tane spoke for the first time since his violent outburst and his voices was a soft and lilting as I had ever heard it. He flexed his fingers and shook a few drops of blood from his knuckles.
"Understood," the villager said. "Understand this: we are bewitched. An evil has been spreading slowly from the mountain; we thought it was like a rain cloud--it would pass on its own, or be convinced to move off with a few sacrifices to Mikkikken. All that's done is waste a few good steers and a handful of goats."
"Mikkikken has always been an unpredictable goddess," I murmured. She ruled over the skies in some parts of Korin, but I had not thought her reach had extended as far west as we were.
"This goes beyond the fussy temperament of the weather goddess," he went on. "For the cows, goats, chickens, ducklings, elk--all we left on the altar stone to appease her--they all came back. Not blown by some errant wind or carried by some gruesome prankster. They walked back, unsteady as drunken irfs, empty of life but blazing with hatred."
"Hard to blame them," Seymuhr said. "If there is such a creature as a willing sacrifice, I've not met it."
I glared at him. "You miss the point, as usual," I snapped.
"Oh? If I were entertaining friends, I'd take care to note their tastes in food before I invited them to supper. Perhaps, since these good people are trying to appease the divine mistress of the winds and hail, they should have thought to ask her what she was hungry for."
He turned back to the crowd of villagers at the door. "That's why I don't believe in sacrifices. Too much guesswork."
I ignored him. "The point is," I said, extending the word and putting an extra emphasis on it, "our goals may be the same and our enemy, a common one."
"We seek the Mountain Witch," Merrick affirmed. He had bandaged Lobern's eye socket as well as he could, and helped Gorb up onto a bench. "She has created a great and powerful evil and blight on the land, and we would end it."
"Oh. Well. Good. That's good. That's what I was going to ask. Makes losing an eye seem like a small cost, eh, Lobern?"
Lobern, who had just regained his wits, flashed the man a rude gesture.
"Indeed, we had come to this place in hopes of finding news of this witch, and perhaps a clue to her location."
"Well, we can give you more than a clue," he said. "We can take you there. I think. Lobern here has been there before--so many times, in fact, that he could probably find it with one eye closed...." he trailed off, embarrassed and looked to his feet.
"Depending on the eye, now," Seymuhr chortled.
I shook my head.
"That won't be necessary," Merrick said. "This poor fellow has suffered enough. Can you draw us a map?"
"You won't need a map," the man replied. "You can just follow the trail of the dead."
