The wet god's bastard

Previously: Esmiralda and her companions (the brutish Seymuhr, the quiet and slow speaking Broo Fang Tane and the intellectual Merrick) have stumbled upon a decaying shipwreck in the heart of a forest far from any major source of water. After investigating the shattered hull, they believe they have discovered the identity of its captain: Harfigorn the Merciless, a pirate who terrorized the seas in a near-forgotten age….

 

“The name means something to you?” Merrick asked.

“Aye, it does.” I was surprised it did not strike any chords with him. Harfigorn was no simple fisherman or petty plunderer. He was a savage who, at the height of his reign over the low seas, commanded a bounty that would have bought a kingdom. “You are unfamiliar with his tale?”

Merrick’s silence answered that question for me. Seymuhr was still poking around in the debris so I spoke loud enough for both to hear. My heart was tingling with excitement. Harfigorn’s misfortune might well lead to my own good fortune: Queen Phedera would pay any falcuhn his or her weight in gold to learn the final chapter in that vicious bastard’s tale. There was the possibility of other treasure involved, too, for the pirate had been a successful and wealthy one.

“It is not surprising,” I said to ease his discomfort. “He lived at a time before even your own grandfather was born and his exploits—though vast and legendary—were hardly the type that would come to the attention of your…agency.” Merrick was a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation, charged with stamping out threats and evils brought about by the otherworldly forces that continually sought to reclaim control of the world.

“His real name was Harvey and little is known of his origins. Some said he was a northman who tired of the plow and soil and sought adventure and riches. Others said he hailed from a land beyond even the Middle Seas. A few thought he was a demon, loosed—or birthed—by the Wet God Sluth to wreak vengeance on the little men who dared tickle his waters.

“He and his crew terrorized the Low Seas for decades, killing all who crossed their path and stealing everything they could. Navies sought him and kings and duke alike hired mercenary after mercenary to track him down and bring them his head. None were successful; I always thought those who were recruited to find him found more in common with Harfigorn than their benefactors and merely stayed on with his ship. There was also rumors, of course, that he was protected by black magic. There might have been truth to that. Accounts from those who encountered him are few, but those that exist agree that he held among his companions a witch of sorts, a vile thing named Athelane whose beauty and knowledge of the dark arts were enough to make even the most powerful of the Maedrum tremble.”

“Harvey?” Seymuhr interrupted. He was sucking on the old coins he had discovered, apparently trying to determine what they were made of.

“Indeed.”

“Is there no guess as to what became of him?” Merrick wanted to know.

“Not until now,” I said. “It was always thought that he had grown tired of the waves and simply gone off somewhere to enjoy his wealth—or he returned to the lands on the far side of the Middle Sea. It was not uncommon then, nor is it now, for a pirate to simply turn over his vessel, or sink it on his own.”

Merrick looked at the gathered parchment in my hands and nodded, a hand stroking his beard. “Athelane,” he mused. “A witch? Not a member of the Maedrum?”

I shrugged. “A ship witch, at the least.”

“Do you think this log was written by this Harfigorn, himself?”

I shook my head. “It is possible, I guess, but unlikely. I would think he employed a mate, or a bard of some type to record his thoughts. Perhaps even this Athelane performed that task. She must have been educated.”

“This deserves more study,” Merrick said. “Come, let us leave this dank chamber and look through this document in the full light of day. I would feel the sun on my shoulders if I have to read about these dark deeds. But, if this contains even a hint of his final destination…”

I nodded in agreement. “…we should take up the trail and follow it to its end, or as near to it as we can.”

Next: In the footsteps of the marauder

The last port of the forgotten pirate

Previously: Freelance Historian Esmeralda and her companions have stumbled upon a shipwreck in the middle of a forest--far from any large body of water. While investigating it, Seymurh--called Skullsquasher by some--acted as a human battering ram to access the captain's long-sealed chambers...

"Like I said: crude but effective," said Merrick when he joined me in the chamber.

"Indeed." My voice was muffled by my sleeve. The chamber was rank with the smell of decay and our entrance had stirred up the dust of untold years. It felt like I had sand in my nose and throat. It was black as pitch--no light penetrated anywhere--and my eyes could not adjust to the inky darkness. Merrick's soft voice was to my right and immediately behind me and I heard Seymurh's rasp somewhere across what I assumed to be a relatively small chamber. "I think it would be safe to light a torch. Do you have one?"

"I can see well enough," Seymurh answered.

"Not exactly," Merrick said. "Although I can be of some assistance." He mumbled a few words that sent a queer shiver across my back, like someone had tickled it with a feather. I heard a soft pop and a low hiss and gradually, the room came into focus, lit by a dim, steady globe that rolled around on the top of his staff.

I nearly gaped at him. Was he a member of the Maedrum? He hadn't mentioned it yet--not that we had had a whole lot of time to share our stories. Evidently, he thought sharing the fact that he served on the Ministry of Human Preservation to be a safer secret to share than his knowledge of the Wild Arts. Interesting.

"Well, that helps." I let the other questions go unasked, for now. I was familiar with the existence of the Maedrum but had never met any that counted themselves among that group (although several claimed falsely to be). Magic was not as prevalent now as it had once been, but there were still some who practiced it and uncounted powerful trinkets left behind by their sect. I was in possession of one, a Traveling Stone, but was loathe to use it because I did not know how long its energy would last. I didn't want to find an inert piece of red rock around my neck when I needed it most. Merrick's staff could have been something of the like; the energy could have been contained in it and not his mind. Still, it was worth investigating later.

Now, I turned my attention to the chamber, such as it was. The violence that had wrested the ship from its native environment and deposited it in this forest left its mark inside it, as well. Nothing stood recognizable as any type of furniture--wood was scatter about splintered and formless. There were a full dull metal cups and rotting debris left indistinguishable by age. Tubes of thick wax lay against one wall where remnants of some type of work station still existed. A desk, perhaps. It was near that that Seymurh stood, probing the bones of man. Nearby was a fractured wooden heap that might have once been a chest of some sort. The dead captain's personal effects? Certainly possible.

"Pretty," Seymurh said, pulling a jewel-encrusted saber from the human wreckage. The blade looked sharp still, although flecked with the passage of time. Seymurh held the jeweled hilt close to his eyes and poked at the red and green stones with a thick finger. "But not very heavy. An artisan's blade, but practical enough if he knew how to fight with it."

Merrick was going through the scrolls that had somehow survived, holding his wavering light up to the mildewed parchment and mouthing what word he recognized. I turned my attention to the trunk, for that's what that heap of wood turned out to be. It's solid construction allowed it to survive the bizarre journey better than anything else we had seen so far, although the brass hinges were torn and bent. I pulled away the soft wood and disturbed a colony of wriggling insects longer than my finger, nearly as thick as a branch and with more legs than I cared to count. A small hill of brownish coins caught the flickering light and I bent to pick up a medallion that was square in shape with an empty round indentation at its center. Touching it made the tips of my fingers pulse with a not entirely unpleasant sensation.

"Here's a name," Merrick said. "I think." He bent in closer, rubbing his eyes. "Hangore? Hanford? No, that's not quite it. Harfigorn. It looks like Harfigorn. Does that mean anything to you?"

The medallion was immediately forgotten. I ignored Seymurh, who was busy sifting through the coins. "Harfigorn? Are you sure?" I crossed the chamber and peered at the parchment. The ink was faded in spots and distorted by moisture in others but I had to agree with Merrick's translation.

"Bones of Barnok," I breathed. Suddenly, the chamber did not seem so stifling. It seemed cold and damp, indeed, and I felt a sense of dread grow in my belly. "Have we found the final resting place of Harfigorn, the Merciless?"

Up next: Yes. Yes they have.

Beyond the deeper shadow

Previously: Mira and her companions have found an ancient shipwreck in the middle of a forest and are looking for clues about its crew, destination and cargo...


Once again, I stepped into the gloom. This time, my heart buzzed not in fear and fatigue, but in anticipation of untold wonders, a mystery to be unraveled and, I hoped, a pouch full of coins. I was already crafting the history of this vessel in my head, trying to call up images of the bizarre events that brought it to this forsaken place.

Now that we knew it was a ship, it was a wonder that we had mistaken it for anything else. What we had taken for a roof was actually the deck, splintered in places but with a single rectangle near its center. What I had assumed was a hanging piece of broken beam was, in fact, the door. A deepening shadow above it was mostly likely the hold, or perhaps a narrow passageway that led to the crew's quarters.

Merrick had made the same observation and probed the ceiling/deck cautiously with the tip of his sword. I cringed at first, for if the wood was indeed rotten and anything remained in the hold, it would not take much pressure to cause it to come crashing down on us. What a sad, sorry end that would be--to escape a pair of rampaging giants only to fall victim to some lost pirate's effects. But the wood sounded solid and, indeed, it held up.

If that was the deck and hold, it stood to reason that the back wall was not a wall at all, but the exterior of the captain's quarters. There should be some other kind of door, there, and perhaps a short ladder that led to an observation platform that had somehow been jammed so savagely against the earth it must have shattered or split the ground. The wall was buckled and a few quick taps proved that it was hollow. How quickly my assumptions melted away!

Merrick was beside me now, sweat gleaming on his skin and a wild look in his eyes. He ran his hands over the uneven surface, cursing and sucking on a finger when it pulled up a splinter. I pushed against the wood and although it was bent and buckled it was solid enough. There was no opening large enough to squeeze through and only a few cracks to press an eye to. It was too dark to see anything inside, so I guess that chamber had not been exposed to sunlight in the long years since it was tossed to this final resting place.

"Move aside." Seymuhr's rough voice was in my ear, his rank breath in my nostrils. I waved both away.

"Mind your manners, you smelly brute," I snapped.

He ignored me. Seymurh wiggled his fingers into one of the crevices, then squeezed in his other hand so that one was on top of the other in that narrow opening. He lowered himself slightly, set his knees and pulled with a single grunt. The wood snapped and came free, revealing a whole the size of a large melon. He put a hand on either side and broke more wood off, as easily as if he were stripping dry bark from a dead tree, got a shoulder through and then pushed his way into the darkness.

"Like a battering ram," Merrick said, an admiring smile on his face.

"But not as smart," I added, then called: "Be careful, you oaf! We don't know how stable that is."

We waited, but heard no alarming sound of rending wood or straining beam. The ship, smashed as it was, seemed stable enough. I looked at Merrick and he at me. We nodded simultaneously and, one after the other, stepped inside the chamber.

NEXT: The last port of Harfigore the Merciless

An errant course

Previously: Esmiralda, a freelance historian, has recently been recruited to the Ministry of Human Preservation. She and her new companions have stumbled upon a new mystery...

A ship decaying in the middle of the forest with no bodies nearby and no recognizable insignia to point toward its port of origin. I considered this.

"If they had met some misfortune, there would still be signs nearby," I said. "Bones, weapons, something of the like. I think we can assume that whoever helmed this craft survived this bizarre landing and wandered off—or perhaps they had some destination in mind and fell short."

"They could have been abducted by the giants," Merrick guessed, referencing our recent encounter.

"I don't think so. This ship has been here for some years. We can assume that that evil plot did not have that much history."

"Course," Seymuhr grunted. "Because you would have known of it."

I glared at him, but nodded. I feared he would pounce on every occasion to attack my knowledge of the land and its history—knowledge forged by walking throughout the countries for decades and reading about their histories for just as long.

"Is there a task that you might find more productive than goading me into a shouting match?" I asked him. "If so, you don't need my permission to start it."

He chuckled, probing the space between his teeth with his tongue. "I'm going to find something to eat."

"Perfect."

Merrick had approached me. He hiked his trousers up around his thick middle and watched Seymuhr's broad form disappear into the forest. "Don't worry. He can take care of himself."

"Oh. I'm not worried."

"If this craft indeed belongs to the Free Sailors, might you know any tales of ships they lost?"

Free Sailors. An interesting word choice. It meant Merrick was mostly like from Gole, a southern land that had coined the phrase because their duke, Surval Gruddun, had flat out denied that there was a problem with pirates raiding the shores of his land. He was an idiot, of course, like many rulers, and preferred to keep his treasuries filled with trinkets rather than empty it on a navy.

"The word is 'pirates'," I reminded him, "and yes we agree on that. There are many tales of pirates lost at sea—tis the nature of the life they choose—but few of them are recorded. Pirates aren't known for their written histories. Those that I have seen are difficult to read."

"Why is...that?" Broo Fang Tane had been listening to the conversation.

"Too many 'Arrrrs'," I answered, smiling at my own joke.

Merrick didn't even smile. "Perhaps. It would be unlikely to find one that referenced this vessel in particular, anyway. It is doubtful that any of its crew—or prisoners, I would add—would return to a Temple of Knowledge to record the voyage. Still, would the captain not keep a log for his own reference? Or, perhaps some other document, like a..."

"...a map," I finished with him. It was entirely possible. We all, in some form or another, wanted to be remembered. Pirate captains were as prideful as they were merciless and historians—or bards, or whatever label you put on someone who liked to tell stories—were always in need of coin. A map would not only provide detail to some of the voyages, but could also lead the way to a lair, where the spoils of their victories could be hidden. I was suddenly certain of it. "Indeed, it is likely. Let's take a closer look."
 

A boneless graveyard

Previously: After defeating a scheme to sell humans into slavery, Mira and her companions take shelter from a violent storm and discover that their refuge is a most unusual structure: a ship, turned upside-down and stuck in the middle of the forest, miles from any large water source...

Merrick and I walked around the ship again. I scratched my head, while he had his fingers buried in his beard. There was indeed no indication of how the ship had arrived at this peculiar destination--nor any signs of its crew. I could discern no markings that would identify its port of origin, either.

"Perhaps someone....built...it here," Tane suggested in his usual uneven speech.

I glared at him. "You're suggesting someone constructed a broken ship leagues away from any sailable waters."

He shrugged. "Even the most...skilled crafts...man must practice his...art somewhere. Here, none would be nearby to...mock him."

"Mocking such an endeavor, imagine that," I said under my breath.

"Do you suspect sorcery?" Merrick asked me.

"I don't know. That would require a power that hasn't been seen since the lost age, I would say. I know of no Maederum capable of such a feat and the tales of those who would have been are a bit suspect. You?"

"I agree. Although...pah, never mind." He took a step back and further appraised the ship. "It is a sleek vessel, designed to be swift on the open sea and nimble in the narrow confines of a river, I'd say."

"The low prow would help it stay hidden," I added. "While the tall sides would offer some protection, from the sea, the elements--or enemies."

Seymuhr wandered back into view, hiking up his trousers with a crooked smile on his face. "The hull still repels water," he added.

"With no insignia or crest, this is not part of any recognized fleet," Merrick surmised. "Or at least it was not when it met this fate."

I nodded, seeing what he was getting to. His conclusion made sense.

"Pirates."

"Aye," he said, lowering his voice and putting a bit of sand into the word. "A resourceful band, too, if the location of their vessel is any indication."

"Or an...un...fortu nate one."

"Everyone's fortune runs thin at the end," Seymuhr said. "At least they didn't drown."

"That we know of," I said. "It could be that the crew was not with their ship when it landed or was brought or however it appeared here. If they were, what became of them? Where are their remains?"

The question brought a chill to my spine. For if the members of the pirate crew were indeed in their ship when it made it to its final resting spot, then it was possible that they befell some additional malice, perhaps even an evil so foul it not only took their lives, but erased all trace of their existence, leaving nothing behind. Not a single bone.

A wrong turn at the seashore

Previously: After taking shelter from a storm, Mira and her companions wake to a new day and find that the structure they spent the night in is not an abandoned home or military outpost, at all. It was a ship: wrecked in the forest, miles from any large water source and empty...


At first I could only stare and wonder if my eyes deceived me. Could it indeed be some form of home whose exterior had sagged to give it the appearance of an upside-down vessel? I thought not, for the ends of it were indeed curved, not broken. The windows were indeed rounded, like portholes. And the shattered limbs nearby were indeed straight and had once been hewn by man into masts.

"Bones of Barnok."

"Indeed." Merrick stood beside me, his arms crossed. "Have you ever seen such a thing?"

"In the middle of a forest...? No. I have not." I whirled, scratching my head. Was there indeed a lake or a river nearby? It would have to be a wide one, deep of water and strong of current to handle such a vessel. This was no plainsman's skiff, this was a sea worthy craft, capable of handling large waves, strong winds and the temperamental creatures that made widows out of so many sailors' wives. "How can this be?"

"Perhaps the cap...tain...got lost," Broo-Fang Tane suggested in his usual, lilting speech.

"Lost? You could run a horse for three days in any direction and not find an ocean or a sea," I said.

Seyhmurh shrugged his massive shoulders. "I dunno. It could happen."

"It could HAPPEN?" I knew he was not the sharpest arrow in the quiver, but the man couldn't be that dense, could he? "How, pray tell, could that happen?"

Another shrug. "If it is possible for a man on a horse to lose his way and find the sea, why is it not possible for the opposite to be true? Why can't a sailor lose his way and find the forest?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Usually, that's because there are a few obstacles along the way. Like a reef, perhaps. Shallow water, most likely. Barring that, a beach. In this case, several towns and two kingdoms?"

"It's still possible."

"Look, you stubborn...."

"Take ease," Tane said. His hand was calm and light on my shoulder. "Why argue the im...possibil...ity of something that is...right...before our........................eyes?"

I had to agree to that logic. Merrick and I walked around the structure, looking for clues. "Perhaps it was dragged to this place," he wondered. "On some kind of huge cart? Or rollers? Could a number of horses do such a thing?"

"Not without leaving a trail," I said. For if such an enormous thing had been hauled over land, it would have surely left some kind of destruction in its wake. but the trees all around it were of the same height. It looked for all purposes to have been dropped from the sky, like the feces of a giant bird. "And an enterprise such as that would require planning and attract attention. Surely, it would be known of and recorded somewhere. I've never heard of anything like this."

"Oh, well, then. It must not have happened," Seyhmurh said. "Odd for such a thing to appear in front of us and not let you know how it got there."

I probably deserved that, but I glared at him, anyway. As Tane had pointed out, the evidence was directly in front of our eyes, solid under our hands, unquestionably there. It only hadn't been recorded...yet. This tale would bring enough coin to have me living comfortably for a long time--perhaps it would even give me the security to turn in my historian's quills and earn a piece of land somewhere where ships would not fall out of the sky.

If, I told myself, I could determine the nature of the vessel and what had happened to its crew.

Epi-prologue

Previously: Esmiralda, a freelance historian and member of the Fulcuhn--a group commissioned by Queen Phedera to record the achievements and culture of the different people of the land--has discovered that one of her traveling companions is an agent of the crown in his own right. Merrick has confided in her, and her alone, that he is a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation, tasked with finding and weeding out evil wherever it appears...

"Esmiralda, come have a look at this!" Merrick shook me with enough force to rattle my teeth. I pushed him away, groggy, and looked up into a face nearly glowing with anticipation. My head pounded and my back ached from the rough ground. We were alone in the structure.

"What?" I asked, momentarily forgetting where we were. We had talked long into the night after his revelation and it was a bit surprising to see him not only awake, but energized.

"You must come outside." He shuffled away and disappeared through the opening.

I groaned and willed my stiff joints to follow him. They eventually agreed, but protested all the way. I found a bright new day beyond the ramshackle walls of the old cottage: a sky that was crisp and blue and unmarred by the clouds of the previous night's storm framed the majestic trees all around us. In the distance, I saw the faint purple peaks of some mountain range--I could not put my finger on which one it was. The sun was high in the sky and I had no sense of which direction I was looking in.

Merrick, Seymurh and Broo Fang Tane were standing some distance away.

"Behold!" Merrick shouted with some flourish.

"Yes, it's very nice today," I muttered, shielding my eyes from a ray of sunlight that reached unfiltered through the canopy.

"Indeed it is," he answered. "But that's not why I called you here. You know of the land near the village of Alt?"

"I do," I said, pointing at Seymuhr. "I had just mapped out the area when your brute there abducted me. As you know."

"And what of it?" He persisted. I wondered what he was getting at, but found no clue in Tane's bemused expression.

"Yes. What of it? I think perhaps you need some more rest. I suggest a later start to...to wherever we're going today..."

"You know of the forest, then, and the hills--the distant mountains, the grasslands...?"

"Indeed. It was all on my map, and depicted very accurately, and with an artists' flourish, I might add. Why?"

"What of the lake? Or the sea?"

I scowled. "There is no lake nearby. And the sea? A journey of 18 days would not bring the scent of it."

"Exactly." He gave me a single smug nod, then uncrossed his arms and pointed behind me. "Then how do you explain that?"

I turned, not knowing what to expect, and then a cold tingling sensation formed at the base of my neck and wiggled down my spine. For the structure we had sheltered in was not a square one and, indeed, had never been. We had been unable to see its shape in the dark. The full light of day showed that each end was curved with the points jammed into the ground. The sides were punctured, not with rectangular openings but round ones. What I had first taken for a fallen tree was much too straight and smooth. It was not an abandoned home, at all, nor a woodsman's retreat, hunter's cabin, fort or outpost of any kind.

It was a ship.

Next: The Lost Treasure of Thormun Zool