The Mountain Witch's Reach

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."

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

Poking the bear

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.

 

Unfortunately, they may have found something else, instead...

 

As the man approached, he stuck his little finger into the corner of his mouth. Slurping noises followed.

Merrick shifted uneasily on the bench, while Broo Fang Tane let out a deep sigh and hung his head. Across from him, Seymuhr chuckled briefly.

The men were all dressed alike: dirty pants with long shirts that hung open about the neck. They were stocky, if not large, and looked like they were used to hard labor with thick arms and broad shoulders. One of them followed their leader, a step behind and slightly to the side, scratching at his beard. The other broke off in an attempt to circle us.

"We don't want any trouble," Merrick said. "We're just looking for a hot meal, and maybe a bath."

The first man sat down beside Tane, slipped his finger out of his mouth, stuck the damp digit into Tane's ear and wiggled it vigorously. His companions laughed at Tane's disgusted expression and even Seymuhr hid a snicker.

"What do you think about that, monk?" The man said. There was a smile on his face, but little humor in his voice.

"I thank...you," Tane responded in his usual, lilting way. "I had not cleaned....my...ear in some...time." His eyes were closed and his breath came in slow, even intervals. 

"Well, then the other one is just as filthy!" With that, he slipped his arm around Tane's shoulders and stuck the wet pinky in his other ear. Several things happened at once.

The tavern keeper reappeared. "Now, Lobern, we don't want to start a fight with these good people..."

"What's wrong with you?" I shifted away from Tane and directed the indignant outburst to the man called Lobern.  

"Nothing. What's wrong with him?" He patted Tane on the top of his head like he was rewarding a dog—only with a little more force.

"I only seek a meal and some rest," Tane said. "Please there are...other...places to sit."

"And other ears to poke," Merrick put in. "Please, you've had your fun. You don't know what are doing."

"Sure I do," Lobern said and he looked up at one of his companions, a blond man who stood behind Seymuhr, just out of reach. "Gorb, what am I doing?"

"Sending a message," Gorb said with a shrug, "and making sure it is heard."

"What you are doing," Merrick hissed, "is making a terrible mistake. That man is a mighty warrior—a fighter and killer without peer. You tempt your own fate and court your own end. You beckon Ewl."

I glanced from Merrick to Tane. Surely, Tane had dispatched the Hunyn easily enough. I had thought that Seymuhr, with his thick slabs of muscle and pair of maces, was the bigger threat.

"Is that so? Are you working for the dark god itself?"  Lobern leaned in and pinched Tane's cheek. His voice suddenly got higher, and he affected a lisp--like a mother speaking to a small child. "But you're so yittle! And cute!"

Seymuhr laughed at that. The third villager closed in.

"I work for no dark god," Tane said. His head was still lowered, his breath coming in slow even intervals. I thought I detected a ragged edge to them, though. His fingers twitched and formed a fist. "I..."

Lobern wasn't paying attention. Instead he had pulled a long, slimy thing from his nose and dangled it for his two companions to see. He draped it over Tane's clenched fist. "Thanks. I was wondering where I was going to put that," he said, then sparked a round of laughter with a bellowed guffaw and slapped Tane on the back.

I looked helplessly at Merrick, wondering what we should do, then at Seymuhr, begging him silently to intervene on Tane's behalf. He looked as amused as the three villagers.

Lobern leaned in, sneering. "We don't like people walking in here, speaking of evil--there's enough of that about already. But mostly, I just don't like you, no matter how 'yittle' or 'cute' you may think you are..." He continued to poke Tane and then I saw Merrick's eyes open.

For the monk had started to make a strange sound: a sort of quiet, high-pitched growl that grew in intensity as his hands tightened into fists and I heard the bones there cracking. The growl grew in volume and then, as his eyes snapped open and lip quivered in rage, Broo Fang Tane exploded into action and the screaming started.

Next: Down on Maim Street

A meal, interrupted

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.


"You seem unsettled," I said to Tane, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else in Korin, even if it meant having his ears chewed off by rats.


"It is...nothing," he responded with a quick half bow. "I will be strong."


"Strong? The only strong thing you'll need down below is your appetite," I said. "I, for one, am looking forward to a meal we don't have to catch."


"We can hope."


I glanced at Merrick, who looked as anxious as Tane. I caught up to him at the base of the hill as he ran a hand through his tangled hair. Slightly winded, he leaned on his staff.


"Is there something you should be telling me?"


He gave me a tight, false smile and shook his head. "No need to fear," he said, his words clipped.


There were three structures huddled around the base of the hill. The Inn or blacksmith shop to our left, a rather large home to our right--both square buildings with stout roofs made of straight logs covered with entwined branches. A small flat road of sorts separated them; it curled around a large barn and disappeared into the forest. The sound of an axe biting into wood came from beyond the barn.


"A strange place for a public house of any sort," I muttered, wondering if that was the cause for my companions' nervousness. The only one who seemed oblivious to the tension in the air was Seymuhr, who stood idly by, sniffing his armpit.


"Perhaps there is a larger settlement beyond that bend," Merrick said.


I was not overly familiar with the area and did not know for certain. I shrugged and headed for the door of the larger building. My stomach led me. I was so hungry I didn't know if I had enough coin to fill my belly.


Inside, we found a large open room filled with rectangular tables bordered by sturdy benches. There must have been a large number of people nearby, for the room could comfortably sit several dozen. A staircase to our left led to an upper level. Near that sat an empty counter  with several stools in front of it. A door was on the other side and I could hear someone working behind it, whistling as he did so. There was another door to our right and it looked like a type of good store beyond. This structure was apparently the center of commerce.


"Pick a seat," Seymuhr growled, "and I'll pick mine."


I ignored the implication, but reminded myself not to shake his hand. I chose a table near the far wall and Merrick followed, clapping his hands once. He called out and I heard a muffled response from beyond the counter.


Seymuhr slapped the table as he sat down. It wobbled and dust filtered down from the ceiling under the force of his blow.


"I'm coming!" A short bald man emerged, scowling. "Early AND impatient today, eh...?" He stopped short when he saw our odd company. He had evidently been expecting a crew of regulars, fresh in from the fields or wherever else they toiled. "My apologies, good sirs," he muttered as he hurried toward us. "I meant no offense. Travelers are rare this time of year."


"No offense given," Merrick bellowed, a broad grin on his face. A sheen of sweat on his forehead was the only thing to betray any nervousness he felt. I glanced around, still wondering at the source of his and Tane's anxiety. "My companion here is indeed impatient--and with an empty belly besides. It is he who should be offering apologies."


Seymuhr did not take the hint.


"Alas, he's a bit simple," I put in. "I offer mine in his place. We are indeed quite hungry and the thought of a well-cooked meal has dulled our sense of decorum. What do you have to offer?"


The barkeep's brow wrinkled, as if he puzzled over my words. "We've some piping hot spider stew that will chase that hunger, right enough," he said. "'Tis a creamy mixture with hunks of potatoes and plenty of meat. No need to skimp on that, hereabouts!"


"Indeed not," I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "I was hoping for something a little..."


"Bigger? Oh, a man-sized appetite is it then?" He chuckled and winked at Merrick. "I should've guessed that, so I should. It would be no trouble at all to stoke up the fire and cook up a couple of flank steaks, then. Perhaps with some turnips and mushrooms?"


I nodded. "That sounds wonderful. I am a bit surprised; I didn't see or hear any cattle on the way here."


The barkeep made a funny noise through his loose lips. "Cattle? Why in Allon's Mallet would you think we'd have cattle? There's no point--the spiders would just eat them all. No, no no. I caught some huge, fresh beasties--plucked them first, of course--and sliced only the best part of the carapace. Very juicy."


"Oh. Spider flanks. I see."


"I thought you'd be impressed. Would you like one or two?"


"My good man," I said instead, "would you have anything for a more, er, discerning tongue?"


He stiffened a bit and color rose to his cheeks. "Of course. My manners and my brains must having a tryst in the shade. You are obviously city-folk, and accustomed to more than simple fare. This will cost you a bit more coin and take a little longer--I've not yet started to prepare it yet--but I can offer you a fine plate of Sarf d'broule."


"We are fortunate to have such a creative and thoughtful host. I'm not familiar with the dish, however. How is it prepared?"


He leaned in, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. He even looked to either side, as if unsure if he should offer the details to us. "I start with fine, aged spider legs, smoked for a full fortnight over..."


"Actually, I'm not that hungry after all." I sat back, crestfallen, and let Merrick order four bowls of spider stew.


The tavern keeper turned, but Seymuhr put a hand on his arm. "Bring the rest of that slop, too," he said.


"Mira," Merrick said sympathetically. "It's better than eating them raw, or burned over a fire."


"Meh."


"One man's delica...cy is another...man's vomit," Tane whispered, his expression still grave.


"That's not helping," I said and was about to say more when the door opened and Merrick cursed under his breath.


Three men stood in the shadows of the door frame. They looked surprised to see four strangers sitting in their tavern. Then the first man gave the other two a sly smile, pointed directly at Tane and said:


"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"


They closed the door behind them and headed our way.








 

The Village in the Hills

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 clues to 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.


We crested a hill and saw a small village laid out in the valley below us. A few houses were huddled near another, larger structure that looked like an inn or a trading post--perhaps both, for it had an enclosed pasture behind it that backed up to the forest. Near that a barn sat with open doors. Two horses grazed outside, although what they nibbled on I could not be sure. The yard contained more dirt than grass. I heard the rhythmic sound of someone chopping wood, but could see no one.


The inn was a long rectangular structure that had a second story perched above the end closest to us. A chimney made of rough stone let out a thin wisp of smoke from the other side. The smell of roasting meat reached my nostrils and my stomach rumbled with desire.


Merrick frowned down at the small settlement and scratched his head. He looked questioningly at me, and I nodded. Seymuhr stretched his arms and Broo Fang Tane wore a slightly worried expression.


"Do you know anything of the people here?" Merrick asked Baram.


She nodded once. "They are simple folk, but good. They may be wary of strangers, but I doubt they pose any danger--if that is your concern."


"It is," he admitted with a gesture toward Tane. "My companion does not always mix well with 'simple folk.' Or rather, they do not always mix well with him."


Tane bowed his head, embarrassed. "My message does not...always...find suitable...soil," the little man said in his usual, halting way.


"Do you think we should risk it?" Merrick asked me.


I didn't want to answer too quickly. I would have, at that moment, given my left leg to eat anything besides spiders. We had consumed so many of those eight-legged beasts that I would not have been surprised at all if I started to sneeze silk. I pretended to consider our options, looking down at the valley and then up at the mountain again. Also, I was in no hurry to face the mountain witch, if her power was as vast and dark as I suspected.


"I think it might prove valuable," I answered. "It may be that these good, simple folk, know of our quarry and can aid us--with information, if not sword or axe. We may also find provisions."


"Indeed. It's settled." Merrick looked at Baram. "Are you familiar to them? Do they know you enough to put credence in your word?"


Baram gave a slight shake of her head. "I do not think so. I fear most who live near here would consider me somewhat aloof. They do not seek me out, nor I them."


Seymuhr grunted at that and I flashed him an irritated glance. "We will have to introduce ourselves, then. Perhaps we should leave Seymuhr behind? Until we know it's safe?"


"Keep him in reserve, you mean? In case they are hostile?"


I shrugged. That hadn't been my first thought. My first thought was that our best chance to make a good impression on a cluster of wary strangers would be to keep Seymuhr out of sight and, if possible, down wind. There was no reason to risk offending him by giving that thought a voice, however. "I just think we should be cautious, this close to the witch's lair."


"I a...gree," said Tane. It was the first time I heard him sound anything but cheerful. What had happened to make both him and Merrick leery of interaction with others?


"Then let me do the talking," I said. "I would guess that I am the least threatening of all of us."


I shouldered my pack and led them down the hill.

The words we make

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 clues to 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.


Baram paused, a quizzical look on her face. The forest was deep around us, the mountain still distant. Between us and its gray slope, a thin curl of smoke rose into the air. The trees teemed with life, even though the chatter of birds sounded sullen and muted.


"We must be drawing near," she said. "The air grows foul."


Seymuhr turned away, snickering into his palm, and I rolled my eyes. "Your senses are indeed keen, daughter of the wolf, but they mislead you this time. Our companion has difficulties that frequently cause exception to the nose."


It was as polite as I could put it and it made the thick brute howl with laughter. I felt my cheeks color, having to explain such a thing to this noble forest warrior. I looked to Merrick for help, but he had not paused. His back disappeared behind a thick trunk and so I walked on, instead. I fell into step with Broo Fang Tane, happy that Seymuhr was behind us and the wind favored his position.


"How came you to this company?" I asked him. I knew little of any of my companions, of course, other that Merrick was an agent of the Ministry of Human Preservation and Tane was a monk, an optimist by calling or disposition. "It is unusual to find someone of such continual good cheer this far south in Korin."


He nodded slightly and beamed, his eyes half closed. His fingers, tucked up into his sleeves, suddenly appeared as he plucked a forest poppy from the ground and held it up.


"What use is the seed, if it stays where it is...planted?" He asked. A slight breath scattered the white pods from the flower. One of them landed on my upper lip and I sneezed so violently my ears rang. "We train not to perfect our art, our joy, but to share it."


"I see," I said with a nod. In truth, we were much the same, except his charge was to spread the seeds of optimism throughout the land and mine was to gather these nuggets and preserve them in the annals of Queen Phedera's history books. I was a Falcuhn, a gatherer of histories and stories.


"In truth," he said. "I was never much...welcome...at the Temple of the...Sun. No one would tell...me of my fam...ily, or the circumstances that brought me...there. I...taxed my tutors more than my peers did."


"How so?" It was the most I had heard the little man speak, and I was curious. I wondered if his usual slow, halting pattern of speech was due to a lack of practice and was determined to help him. After all, in the dangerous world of Korin, one who tried to bring happy news could not afford to be slow about it.


"I saw it in the ...little things. I knew I was tol...erated but not love...d."


I gave him a sympathetic look and patted his right shoulder. My arm briefly encircled his back and I was surprised at the coiled power I felt there. He might have been a slight man, but he was in his own way as sturdy as Seymuhr--perhaps more so.


Tane looked up at my touch and smiled broadly. Suddenly, the words flowed out of him like a creek gurgling down a hillside.


"I remember one day I was helping in the kitchen," he went on. "It was not my usual station but the sun was...hidden...and it was cool. I thought my assistance would be welcome there. The head cook went by the name of Grool, named so because of the meal he served up on odd-numbered days.


"He was a fine cook, given to ominous words," Tane went on. "He weighed each one and delivered them like they were a dish prepared for the High King. I found him that day stirring a vast pot of bub...bling brown...liquid. A silver plate piled high with sliced meat and mashed fruit was nearby.


"'You'll find a gravy boat on that shelf, in the corner,' he told me when I asked if I could...help. Make it live up to its...name.' I leapt up to the counter and stretched to find the vessel, then dropped it into the steaming...vat."


Tane paused, giving me a sheepish look. I wasn't sure what to say. Had I missed the significance of this odd tale? He was silent for a few minutes, so I prompted him. "What happened?"


"He swore at...me, of course. 'What are you doing, you rock-headed toad?' I told him that I had followed his instructions. I pointed to the dish, floating--somewhat, any...way--in the gravy. 'Is that not what boats do?'


"'You fill  a gravy boat with gravy'," he said. He spoke very slowly, a kind of...wonder...in his voice. "You don't float them in gravy."


"'Why aren't they called gravy buckets, then?' I asked him, but he didn't answer my...question.


"'Just take it out of there,' he grumbled, a hand across his forehead. 'Put it aside.' I did as he instructed--again--and tilted it on its side. 'There,' I said, 'now it's a gravy shipwreck.'"


I smiled, in spite of the gravity in his tone. "They made you leave the temple because of that?"


"Oh. No. I was still very young then. That did not make them show me the door to that hoiy place, but I suspect it unlocked it. I gave them...other reasons...to make me leave. I was not a good...student."


And then he was silent, his hands tucked up into his sleeves once more.

Song of the fallen giant

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 clues to 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.




That afternoon, we trekked solemnly north.


I tried to ignore the stench of the fire that clung to my damp clothes. I did not mind the smell of a natural fire, of course, but a funeral pyre carries a distinct smell that lingers for days and I could not help but be reminded of the shambling thing that was Baram's chosen man. Even the dignity of the fire had been stolen from him. If the smell bothered me, how much worse would it be fore her? Yet if she noticed it, she gave no indication. If she felt compelled to look over her should to see the last white tendrils carrying his soul to the beyond, she did not show that either.


Then a new smell invaded my nostrils. I glanced up, repelled, to see Seymuhr's lopsided grin.


"Hello," I said. I wondered if I could lift my shirt to cover my nose without risking his ire. I decided not to.


"You are a storyteller," he said, his voice as raspy as ever. "A Falcuhn?"


"As I've said, yes."


"You know things of wordcraft, then. Of language."


I felt an absurd glow of pride that he--brute that he was--recognized such a thing. Then I realized that he was asking a question, not stating a fact.


"I like to think so." I kept my voice cool, somehow.


"I've come up with a new poem, I'd like you to hear it. It describes our fight with the giants."


Oh dear. I felt cold, weak and a little ill. I had head Seymhur's poetry before and the sound left me wanting to scratch my ears off. What if he wanted my honest opinion? The maces that hung at either side of his hips swayed menacingly.


"Have you, now? That's good. A man should stretch his mind as often as he stretches his legs."


"Would you like to hear them?"


"Them?" Bones of Barnok, there was more than one. That figured. "Would these be of the Nogovian sort? Like the others?"


A grunt and a nod. "They are, but not like the other. My poems are like belches. No two are alike."


I had to give him that one. It was probably an adequate description. "Very well."


He cleared his throat and paused. Baram, Merrick and Broo Fang Tane also stopped, Tane with a mild smile on his face and Merrick wiping sweat from his. The tang of his perspiration hung in the air.


"They came through the trees
hungry, tall and hideous
I hit them; they fell."


"Wonderful," I said, my voice flat.


"I struck first and their
ruptured flesh and splintered bones
made a foul, red swamp"


"Pretty," I glanced at Baram, who flashed me a quizzical expression. "Like a tapestry the size of a wash rag."


"Crows gathered nearby
summoned by the ghastly, shrill
womanish death cries."


"That about describes it," I said, clapping him on the back. "Well done. If the fight had not been fresh in my mind already, your words would bring it there."


"I like the...part a....bout the rup......tured flesh," Tane added, slowly.


"Ghastly and shrill, like a woman," Merrick mused. "Sounds like someone I knew, for certain." He winked at me and I turned away.


"Crows will be gathering nearby once more," I put in, "if we are not soon on our way."


"There's more," Seymuhr said. He cleared his throat again and his eyes took on a wistful look, as if he were staring at a plate filled with beef and nuts.


"Why don't we save them for the fire tonight?" I said. "If we need to pause, we'll have use of some cheerful words to keep the dark at bay. And if we don't start moving, we'll indeed have to spend the night in these woods."


Seymuhr considered. "Good. That will give me time to hone them a little more."


"One can hope," I said.


We set off again.