Book XII: Dark Seas and Deep Waters

               Being the Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, Knight

BEING   a  BEGINNING  to   BOOK  XII

As great Plato said:  “only the dead have seen an end to strife.”  Peace is never a reward for being ‘good;’  peace is a state we maintain by toil and grief.  The call had come, the call to Paladins and Clerics from all across the Nine Realms. Our shared task was clear, our quest was desperate. Chaos was rising once again, the cult of the Blind Destroyer dread Tharizdun: The Chained Beast, The Eater of Worlds.  

 

Uncounted centuries ago his fellow Gods formed an alliance to overpower and bind him, imprisoning Tharizdun forever in a place between night  and day. Tharizdun the Destroyer could not be slain, even by them, yet The Eater of Worlds was too dangerous to ever be released.  Blind Tharizdun would howl out his days under a dead starless sky, bound to a scarred stone throne amid a cold and burning ocean.  Yet even the best plans can go astray.  The Gods could not  destroy raging Tharizdun, they could only render him helpless,  yet his symbol did not fade, his name was never quite forgotten.  There are always fools seeking power.

 

Only  the insane worship Tharizdun  the Destroyer,  men who listen too long to his whispers. Millenia had past and The Eater of Worlds still watched, still waited.  And now his moment was coming, his time would soon be here; a portal had opened and the words of Blind Tharizdun the Chained Beast echoed louder, filling the shadows, driving men insane and drawing madmen near. The old balance was tipping; the old assurances rang hollow, for now his followers gathered in hidden places, now his deranged acolytes screamed praises  as they raised their blades over fresh offerings.  Give them time, give Dark Tharizdun a real chance and our world faced Heimsendir, the End of Days. We shared the same quest with so many others, clerics and paladins were searching all through the Nine Realms, desperately hoping to find the dark rift between the worlds, to find and destroy this fatal gateway to the final darkness.  We searched for the sign of the jagged spiral.

No one can ever know what the Three Fates will bring but at least we can make ready to meet them.  Any Druid and Cleric can pray for many different powers, wise Dain and  Buddynock could cast spells to leave us walking upon the waves or breathing underwater like darting fish!   Such mastery gave us real hope but wise adventurers don’t merely place their faith in cunning magic. 

 

Few travellers ever face wild waters without a qualm, particularly warriors used to donning heavy steel.  Dain Rocksmiter and I considered carefully. We each bought a brigandine, the light armour favoured by our Rogue.  Dain and I lacked Halduamina’s nimble grace, but studded leather was better than no armour at all and we still had some chance of staying afloat should we ever take to the water.  With our capacious Bags of Holding stowing this extra burden scarcely mattered.

Halduamina had run through virtually all his coin in Swarstaag,  but our Rogue certainly did not regret his purchases: his enchanted rapier and dagger made our comrade a truly dangerous foe. Halduamina had also added to his leather roll of lock picks, files, and pincers.  Our comrade no longer needed to show his head when checking around corners, thanks to those two silver mirrors set on a folding stick. A brass listening cone would aid our Rogue when struggling to hear the clicking tumblers of some lock or overhear conversation behind a door; his steel bound magnifying lens might easily save his life when searching for traps.  Halduamina now carried a sealed pouch of powdered chalk and a set of tapered climbing daggers, to be driven between stone blocks and improve his foothold.   

 

Experience brings mastery of many new skills. Our Half Elf Rogue could truly be called an Arcane Trickster!  Halduamina now had magic of his own; an invisible mage hand which could retrieve or manipulate objects within  thirty feet, not to mention a cantrip to send shocking lightning from his outstretched fingers, or a spell to leave foes quailing as dissonant whispers rent their psyche. And that was not all, not all by far.  Halduamina could now cast spells to detect magic or  summon his own fey familiar. I think our friend chose very wisely; few animals are ever so playful as an otter. Little Ettle is a most delightful creature, her sleek brown fur virtually shines and her sinuous grace is a joy to behold.

 

                Neither Little Ettle or Buddynock’s green parrot Oscar were the only newcomers to our party.  At last, after so many perils, so much hardship and injury, at last, at long last our Gnomish friend finally achieved his aim.  His cherished bucket Wilson had been enchanted by the august Wizards of Svarstaag.  His bucket, still daubed with that lopsided smile, now moved at Buddynock’s command unleashing bolts of lightning against close foes or firing small crossbows from a distance.  Wilson had no voice, no means of measuring thought but this automated entity now followed Buddynock Rubyrubb at a faithful distance.

 

                “I believe the wizards term Wilson a Steel Defender,”  said Halduamina as we watched, from what seemed a safe position, as our comrade put his new pet through its paces.

 

                “And it repairs itself,” Dain shook his head.  “At least those crossbows only fire a single bolt, do you remember Buddynock wanting some self-cocking mechanism which could unleash a whole quiver in a heartbeat?”

 

                I nodded:  “Yes but at the enemy.”

 

                “If we were lucky!” snorted Dain. 

 

                Our quest was urgent, our orders were clear.  Our company was bound for distant Saltmarsh, a small fishing town a thousand miles away on the Keoland shore.   We could not wait, we had no choice, we simply lacked the time for overland travel. Our party would have to endure a sea voyage for at least ten days if the wind proved kind, many more, if the weather turned contrary.  These would be familiar coastal waters, we would have land just over the horizon, yet we were still putting to sea, we were still trusting our lives to complete strangers.

 

                So we sailed from many towered Swarstaag by dawn’s early light, slipping away while the city still slept.   We had our reasons, we could only hope this  weatherworn ship would carry us safely.  The warning had come two days ago, from that tall investigator we saved from the murderous City Watch.  Marshill had not discovered any name, not yet, but said a dark cabal within Svarstaag clearly knew our mission. That same evening we saw smoke rising from the Svarstaag docks, where the first ship we had chartered was burning at her moorings,  six of the anchor watch dying with her.

 

             Beggars accept whatever they are given,  we took passage on the next ship, the only ship heading south to distant Saltmarsh.  A small but weatherly Cog, broad-beamed, flat bottomed, clinker built, a crew of fifteen, her figurehead a gilded Unicorn. We take so much for granted in this life. We were so used to setting our own pace and relying on our own honed skills to see us safe to evening.  Yet now we were trusting our lives to men we had never met before, this crew of the cog Unicorn. 

 

                We met Captain Gállos Hadoke in the Marlinspike tavern as instructed.  A big, broad shouldered weather-beaten man with a nose like a fighting ship’s figurehead amid a jutting black beard. It took several attempts to rouse his attention, for we could smell the spirits on his breath.   He scarcely seemed glad to see us, even when we handed over four hundred gold pieces for our passage.    Captain Hadoke merely groaned and muttered: "Mille sabords!”  He blinked, peered blearily in our direction and caught sight of Buddynock Rubyrubb’s new nautical hat complete with plumes.  Captain Hadoke groaned again: “Corsair d'eau!”  He fumbled silver from his belt pouch to settle his score, reeled, belched and beckoned us forward. He swayed in the cold dawn light, shook his head, groaned again and staggered down to the quay. (*)

 

                “Is it just me,” Buddynock Rubyrubb whispered, “but does this nautical gent seem a tad iffy?”

 

                “Iffy or not, we’ve no other choice,”  said Halduamina, settling his pack on his shoulders.

 

                “But he was rude about my new hat!”  exclaimed Buddynock.  “Not to mention little Oscar!”

 

                “That confirms at least two reasons to trust his judgment,” sighed Dain.

 

                Buddynock muttered a Druidic term concerning spring fertility and abrupt departures.  “Well I’m praying for my breathe underwater spell right now just in case!”

                                              Gállos Hadoke, Captain of the Unicorn 
                                  I had never guessed Halduamina had talents as an artist. 
                                 

                                   I found our Rogue’s style unusual but, I have to admit,

                                               he certainly caught the essence of our crew

---

  (*)          Our Druid’s new hat was evidently bad enough.

This was still before Gállos Hadoke glimpsed Buddynock Rubyrubb’s green parrot Oscar.        

I am choosing to omit our Captain’s comments then!

One day, this chronicle may be read by young squires or innocent pages.

                                        2

  A small but weatherly Cog, broad-beamed, flat bottomed, clinker built, her figurehead a  gilded Unicorn. 

           Despite the early hour Unicorn’s crew were clearly alert and waiting for us. I saw a dozen or so figures on deck or working aloft, all clad in plain dyed leather jerkins, breeches and sea boots, some actually barefoot but all with woollen hats or leather caps.  There was no piping aboard, no ceremony, Captain Gállos Hadoke strode across the narrow gang plank without even a pause, heedless of the lapping water only a few feet below.  For one last moment we stood upon dry land.  I saw the look on Dain Rocksmiter’s face as he stamped his boots deliberately on the stone quay, reminding himself of how firm earth felt under his feet!

 

We followed Captain Hadoke aboard, trying not to look down, trying not to imagine falling into that water and being crushed between stone pier and hull.  We asked a ship’s boy for directions but this lad simply refused to meet our gaze;  he stared down at his feet, muttered something and disappeared.  A balding lugubrious man at the ship’s wheel, rolled his eyes, sighed and quietly gave the word. Mooring lines were cleared at bow and stern, the gang plank was stowed; the crew working well despite the confused orders from both Bosun simultaneously.  Jumeau and Jhumeau almost seemed to be twins, both wore a tasselled scarlet cap, both had the same dark hair, fussy moustache,  and the same pomposity.  Afloat or ashore, commands should be clear and concise; these fools continually used a dozen words where three would suffice.   Just what ship had we joined?   I saw a strip of dirty water between us and the shore. We were afloat, we were at sea, there was no turning back, not now.  It was then the sudden roar sounded from our crows’ nest, a deep throated bellow of some hungry sea beast!   I nearly dropped my pack in surprise and an elderly sailor on the quay spilt his morning ale, raised angry fists and was clearly going to shout when a friend swiftly clapped a dirty hand over his mouth.   Yet no one aboard Unicorn even  reacted!

 

                Now an elvish sailor sat cross-legged atop the capstan playing a plaintive flute.  To our surprise we heard a note perfect rendition also coming from the crow’s nest! Unicorn’s crew gripped the oak capstan, braced their feet, stamped and stepped forward raising hoarse voices together:  “Farewell and adieu to you fair Dwarvish ladies, farewell and adieu to you ladies of Dain,” as the chiming anchor chain was wound aboard. The breeze stiffened, our mainsail filled, bald Nestor took the wheel and Unicorn pointed her bow to the open sea.  Many towered Svarstaag slowly slipped from sight, for a time we saw a grey smudge behind us, then we passed down the Gorfang Channel and sailed on open waters.  All land was left behind, above us the sky, under our keel dark fathoms of deep waters.  We stowed our kit in the small cabin close to the waterline, then scrambled up the swaying companionway.  The ship’s bell sounded the half hour, hands turned on deck to wear ship, we stood at the rail staring forward.  The crew were too busy to talk.  It was then the first swell caught us.  (*)

 

Despite casting Blessing spells we were all stricken by seasickness for the first three days.  The crew must have helped us all below and emptied each bucket in turn, a kindness I suppose but I would have preferred if they had simply thrown us overboard.  I recall so little of those wretched, helpless days of retching and pain.  We could barely move, barely speak. Sleep was a kind respite when it came, the sleep of blind exhaustion. At least Buddynock Rubyrubb could enjoy a brief few hours respite if he took dolphin form and rode our bow wave. I had planned to summon my celestial steed Boreas in hippocampus form. He could easily keep company with our ship and I trusted him to alert us to dangers.  Alas for all fond schemes,  I was still too ill to recall the words of the ritual.  Poor Dain Rocksmiter suffered worst and longest. Our stalwart dwarf never complains about aches and ailments but Dain looked more miserable than I have ever seen him before.   (**)

Celestial Boreas in Hippocampus form. 

               My visit to the specialist saddlers of Swarstaag would prove essential if I was ever going to ride my aquatic steed.

On the second night a huge wave erupted out of a placid sea, a towering wall of water crashing down without warning. Some great leviathan had clearly risen from the deep close by. Even in our abject misery we felt little Unicorn roll, we heard her worn timbers creak and groan, a screaming crescendo as Unicorn rolled so far starboard she seemed to be hanging in mid-air. We were thrown across each other in our small cabin in a tangled medley of limbs,  bodies and belongings, poor Oscar screaming in fear, Wilson upended off his wheels and unable to rise. For a terrible instant we truly believed little Unicorn would turn turtle, but slowly, painfully, we felt our small Cog steady and begin to roll upright, water streaming from her deck.   (***)

---

(*)           “No they do NOT mean me!   No I did not ‘have’ to leave my home mine.  Dain is a common dwarvish name!”

 

(**)         I did not appreciate the crew’s joke:  “Do you know there is a sure-fire cure for seasickness?   Sit under a tree!”

 

(***)        I preferred Nestor the Mate’s dry comment:  “Do you know the definition of an amateur sailor.  One who forgets

all nautical language  in the heat of the moment and just shouts “for God’s sake turn left!”

3

    Most sailors pray to tempestuous Procan, the wild god of deep waters, a deity both kindly and malevolent. By some miracle none of our crew were washed overboard, by divine grace and superb seamanship our small ship and crew survived unscathed.  Captain Hadoke stood lashed to the wheel fighting for his ship’s life, holding Unicom bow to the towering wave even as white water beat down upon our battered Cog with elemental fury, the decks awash, the sail aback, ropes snapped, rails bent.  Our Captain steered us through, he saved us all.  Gállos Hadoke  never told us anything, we only learnt this much later from Nestor the Mate.

Nestor the Mate is  a dapper  man of quiet competence with a long suffering air,

he waits patiently for our Captain’s bombast and fury to ease, before making careful suggestions.

In time we began to understand our Mate’s loyalty.

Nestor  seemed wary of both elves and dwarfs, but not openly hostile.

By the fourth day we had recovered sufficiently to eat again and to sit on deck for fresh air, so welcome no matter how cold.  My Aundarian cleaning stone was most useful in restoring some decent appearance.  I had dreaded ribald comments from the crew but, to our surprise, these busy sailors spoke gruffly yet without malice or mockery;  maybe they are so used to passengers becoming ill they no longer find the event worthy of comment.

 

I just remember the weary gratitude of sitting perched on a coil of rope, my stomach tight, my throat sore, but no longer seasick! I kept  my eyes carefully on the horizon, sipping water and listening to the surging waves and creaking timbers, the striped mainsail straining against backstays and halyards,  cold, exhausted yet glad to be alive even so.  Busy sailors bustled around me but I was careful to sit out of their way. I saw the high forecastle on the bow and Captain Hadoke taking noon bearings with his astrolabe.  I saw the high bulwarks and the bronze rings set every few feet along the Unicorn’s high sides. We had truly stepped within another world. 

 

Dain Rocksmiter’s head appeared above the companionway,  his leather arming cap tied tight under his chin.  He almost slipped on the unfamiliar steps as Unicorn pitched but our Dwarven Cleric saved himself with a quick snatch at the rope lifeline and pulled himself on deck.  I am not certain Dain intended anyone to hear his comments.  “Never again, by Great Durin and all the Seven Lords never again! What “forak-erach-naek” ordered this mission?  The next time any of them complain about some honest mine or tunnel,  ANY of them, I shall remind them of this!”  (*)

---

 

(*)           We can always trust witty Halduamina to make his own wry jokes.  I did like his latest.

                 “Before you go to sea you are scared you’re going to die.  When  you first become sea sick you’re scared you won’t!”

 It’s so reassuring to learn we are not alone …

4

None of us had ever been to sea before.  Nimble Halduamina seemed most at home and Buddynock Rubyrubb so quickly accepts the strange and unfamiliar.  Poor Dain is more used to his mines and fields and I had only seen service in my company of knights.  In all honesty, at first I saw little to admire in these sailors.  They kept Unicorn clean and orderly, they obeyed orders smartly and clearly knew their trade, yet their tar streaked breeches and woollen caps were a far cry from the burnished mail and painted shields of my Order.  Yet as I watched I realised,  this small crew might lack polish or drill but they were no less veterans all the same,  sailors who knew their dangerous trade and knew it well.  Each one  carried himself with a certain independence; they were obedient but never deferential.

 

I was getting to know our crew.  Benar was huge, fair haired with strength to rival Herakles but a gentle innocence in his manner.  The man constantly wearing a cork life belt was Vasrhamos, the crew could rely on him for gloomy predictions but I noticed he was never slack when springing into the rigging to work aloft.  The Cog Unicorn was in good repair , the damage from that crashing wave had been repaired by carpenter Niz,  another big man with a broken nose who was generally first in line when the galley gong sounded.  The two dwarfs surprised both of us but Flossi with his plaited beard and painted leather armour and surly Red Herhkal clearly chose to serve aboard this ship. The tended to work on deck, that rigging was made for longer legs but their skill was very evident all the same.   Most of the crew had their hair tied back in a tarred pigtail but the two elves Arianard and Taras, let their long locks fly free and Alton the brusque hobbit who walked the pitching bulwarks like a circus rider wore his pink dyed hair in spikes!  (*)

 

                The watches changed places every four hours, sooner during the two dog watches. Yet we had still not met the crewmen high in the crow’s nest. There was still no explanation for that bestial roar from up above when we left harbour or the sudden burst of Dwarvish bagpipes from the crow’s nest today.  And still, no one on deck showed any sign of alarm!

 

Unicorn’s officers intrigued me.  I was surprised so small a ship had two Bosun, and astonised irascible Captain Hadoke somehow tolerated their bumbling. Despite all assurances I still saw Jumeau and Jhumeau as twins, their appearance and manner were both so similar.  They meant well, I am sure of that,  despite all their pompous words and muddled orders.  The more I observed the more I wondered.  Captain Hadoke clearly chose to retain Jumeau and Jhumeau aboard his precious ship.   Gállos Hadoke was only drunk ashore and no fool when he was sober. Jumeau and Jhumeau frequently left Captain Hadoke red faced with rage yet some loyalty somehow stopped him hurling them ashore at the nearest port.  We all have a past, we all have days we do not like to recall and some of us remember friends who stood by us come what may.  There was an answer to this mystery.

Jumeau and  Jhumeau are both infuriatingly gullible, yet usually convinced they are quite correct.

---

 (*)           I did hear this though  … and very clearly.

                 “Fangs of the Nidhogg!  No Buddynock that would never suit you!   And no I ‘would not get used to it over time!’

5

Even foolish Jumeau and Jhumeau could manage familiar tasks proficiently at sea. It was clear our crew knew their dangerous trade and knew it well.  All but one, the youngest, the sullen ship’s boy. Osian was barely twelve at the most and small for his age, his face pinched with hunger. That also surprised me for our galley was well provisioned and the food aboard Unicorn was regular and plentiful. Our meals were hardly fancy,  yet they filled our stomachs, they gave men the heart to work well. So why was young Osian so thin?  The boy never spoke, averted his eyes and seemed to make himself even smaller when anyone stood too close.  Buddynock Rubyrubb seems to make friends everywhere he goes yet even our merry Gnomish Druid could not raise a smile.  It was then we saw the scars on Osian’s back, old whip marks and fresh weals still bruised and sore.  It was then we found the manacles and leg irons stapled to an iron ring below deck.

 

“Say nothing, not yet,” counselled Halduamina, speaking from the corner of this mouth and Dain Rocksmiter nodded in agreement.  “We are in mid voyage, we need this crew for the moment.”

 

“I can still cast a zone of truth and attempt some subtle questions,” I said.  “Nothing to rouse suspicion just so we know a little more.”

 

“The crew certainly like watching Boreas swim around the ship,” said Buddynock. “And he’s a good match when I race him as a dolphin.”

 

“Just don’t dash too far from the ship,”  advised Dain.  “We can’t ever be sure what is under us!”

 

“You say that, but the off duty watch like laying bets,” said Buddynock.  “Spiky hair Alton won a pewter tankard and collection of anatomically influenced playing cards on my last win!”

 

We were slowly growing accustomed to our life afloat, we still envied the sure footed sea legs of our veteran crew yet we had grown more familiar with bluff Unicorn’s regular pitch and roll and more adept at keeping our footing without desperately snatching for stray ropes.  The wind held firm, we hoped to make Saltmarsh within five days.  We had seen dolphins and schools of fish,  we watched black fins following our wake. (*)

 

 Sharks rarely concern real sailors but our mysterious lookouts up in the crows’ nest were certainly alert for anything more threatening.   At four bells in the first dog watch we heard further sudden bagpipes from the masthead.  Captain Hadoke was at the rail in an instant his brass spyglass clapped to his eye.   He nodded and Nestor set the crew rigging boarding nets as one Bosun opened the small arms chest and Jhumeau dragged the tarpaulin off the aft ballista.

 

I readied my new longbow, Halduamina and Dain wound their crossbows:  we heard little Osian shouting as he pointed, we saw a gleaming mass break surface barely half a cable length from our larboard beam, some hulking creature of the depths closing the range! A hatch flipped open, a hooded head poked out.   “Evenin’”  said the Gnome.  “Nice day to splash yer bits eh?”

 

“Kwalish apparatus surfaced to port Captain,”  called Flossi.  “Gnome crew. Appear friendly.”

 

“Course we’re friendly!  We only wanted to ask you-.“

 

"Tonnerre de Brest!”  Captain Hadoke waved both arms violently: “Instruct those deep sea doryphores to haul off.  I don’t want them surfacing under our hull!”

---

(*)           Druid Rubyrubb had explained earnestly and at great length.  Yes sharks sometimes ate people but they were just fish, they needed to feed, they meant no harm and only attacked from below to devour swimmers when they were hungry;  sharks  had a right to live like any other natural creature and it would be monstrous to aim arrows at them for no reason.  They were small anyway, the biggest was only twelve feet long and absolutely nothing to worry about from up here.

6

Only the most stout hearted undersea explorers ever trust their lives to a Kwalish Apparatus.

 

Buddynock Rubyrubb waved happily;  the Gnomish undersea sailors waved back.  Buddynock held up Wilson to be admired; the two Gnome explorers gave two thumbs up each..  Their steel vessel resembled nothing so much as a great metallic lobster.  I could see great metal claws in front and three pairs of articulated legs currently beating rhythmically against the waves to hold the Kwalish Apparatus steady.

 

                Once Captain Hadoke had finally confirmed their position the two Gnomish explorers doffed their long hoods politely and disappeared within their metal craft.  We caught a glimpse of light from within and then the dorsal hatch was sealed and we watched the Kwalish Apparatus descending into the depths once more, the six legs kicking vigorously as it dived.  For a moment more we marked their progress but then the steel ship was lost from sight.

 

                We took our turn in the galley for bowls of stew. Herkhal was cook today and had prepared some dwarvish favourite rather successfully, judging by the surprised smile on Dain’s face and his eagerness for a second serving.   The mood was truly pleasant and peaceful. Despite those manacles below, despite the recent wounds on poor Osian’s back, my zone of truth spell indicated a crew with nothing to hide, no shame or guilt or concerns. We still had no explanation for events on this ship!

 

                It was then we then heard what I can only describe as the sound of a lady experiencing a pleasant recreational occasion in the crow’s nest.  Rather a prolonged pleasant recreational occasion where the enthusiastic lady repeatedly called on her deity in the affirmative.   (*)

 

                Buddynock Rubyrubb was grinning wider than a red dragon with two well stuffed hoards.  Dain’s eyebrows raised, Halduamina opened his mouth, closed it, then said: “if your parrot heard that,”  then his voice just trailed away …

 

                Yet none of the crew paid much attention!  Herkhal merely gazed up at the mast head,  touched his brow in salute and shouted: “thanking you!  And I look forward to your turn.”

 

---

 

(*)   YES!  Paladins do know what this is. NO!!  I am not explaining further.

7

“Pipe down forrard!”  bawled Captain Hadoke.  “What by blue blazes are those two malcontent swabs squawking about now?”

 

“Hugin and Mugin like the stew skipper,”  said Big Niz.   “Really like it!”

 

“Noisy pair of recidivist anacoluthons!  You have the helm Nestor.”

 

The off duty watch headed below to their hammocks or sat and spun yarns over dice and wine.  There were no further noises from the crow’s nest.  Bosun Jumeau was arguing with Bosun Jhumeau on the best means of securing a belay.  Taras played his flute with plaintive grace,  his thoughts a world away. Big Niz resumed knitting a scarf,  Flossi produced a whale’s tooth etched with a delicate seascape, the dwarf pulled a role of needles and files from his belt and resumed his scrimshaw. Little Osian was out of sight again.

 

Gnomes have so many qualities  above all curiosity.  Buddynock Rubyrubb casually swung himself up onto the rigging.  He had climbed almost half way to the mainyard when a cross swell sent Unicorn pitching, our small friend lost his grip and plunged headlong into the sea.  It is fortunate our Druid can assume animal form when he wishes, and doubly fortunate Buddynock was already familiar with the appearance of a speedy dolphin.

 

Spike-haired Alton threw a line with all a sharp-eyed halfling’s habitual skill and dripping Buddynock was safe aboard again, in gnome form, with barely a pause.  We decided to forgo further investigation of the mast today;  if nimble Buddynock could suddenly fall, Dain and I had little chance of reaching the crow’s nest safely even with our leather brigandines.  Lithe Halduamina could certainly make his own attempt but our Rogue could not protect himself by taking animal form should he inadvertently go over the side.  Buddynock had already taken animal form twice today; better to wait until tomorrow and try again.

 

We all need space alone at times; aboard a small and crowded ship even a few feet of privacy can feel priceless.  My friends went below. I spent some time gazing out over the bow, wondering how long before we saw our destination.  I then did something  unthinkable, something I could never have imagined two days before.  Anyone can have good intentions but anyone can still be foolish all the same.  I should have known better.   There was still some daylight left, still time. I was wrong.

 

                Some people panic so easily;  others have the skill of staying calm.  Dain Rocksmiter is a most orderly minded and methodical dwarf.  “What do you mean Dalmas is no longer aboard?  So you’ve checked below Buddynock?  Have you also searched on deck Halduamina?  Everywhere?”

 

                “I tell you something’s happened,” Buddynock hissed under his breath and beckoned trusty Wilson a little closer.  “They’ve done something to him! We saw those chains, those whip marks!  This ship seems friendly but what have they done with our paladin?”

 

                “We need answers,”  added Halduamina. “And quickly.  If we visit the Captain down in his cabin, very quietly of course,  we can-“

 

                It was then my friends heard my voice.  Note perfect and unmistakable. They heard me saying with some embarrassed haste:  “No don’t disturb them, I’ll be back before six bells.”

 

                “Dalmas?  Up there?”  Halduamina pointed up at the crows’ nest.

 

                “That was his voice all right!” Dain peered at the mast head, one hand raised against the sunset.   “How by Thor’s red whiskers did he ever climb up there?”

 

                “What made Dalmas even try,” said Buddynock.  “If I fell off how could that great lumbering lump reach the mainyard.”

 

                “No don’t disturb them, I’ll be back before six bells.” My voice rang out again.

 

                “What is he on about?” said Dain Rocksmiter.

 

                “Is he drunk?” said Halduamina

 

                “Is he with that friendly lady?” beamed Buddynock. “Result!”

 

                “No don’t disturb them, I’ll be back before six bells.” 

 

                “Is that definitely Cadan Dalmas?”  said Dain.

 

                “It sounds just like him,”  said Halduamina, but why is he repeating the same words?”

 

                “Remember those dopplegangers,” said worried Buddynock.  “The one in Cragmaw Castle and that second down in Phandelver.   They both sounded just like the people they mimicked.”

 

                “Yes but they didn’t keep saying the same thing, did they now?” Dain scowled with frustration. “That’s what made them so convincing.”

 

                “But that’s Dalmas’ voice.  It definitely is!  Way up there. What in the name of Sylvanus is that  lanky pillock doing in the crow’s nest?  Buddynock’s brass goggles gleamed in the dying sun.

 

                “So you’re intent on climbing the rigging again?”  said Halduamina.

 

                “For a quick shufti most definitely,” replied our defiant Gnome.  “Quick give me a bunk onto the port bulwark.”

 

                “Just be more careful this time,” said Dain.  Our dwarven comrade always sounds most gruff when he is most concerned.

 

                “Any Gnome ship would have ratlines at proper intervals for properly sized folk,” grunted Buddynock, standing on tiptoe to grasp the next rope rung above him.  Just you wait until I reach the Eighth Circle of my Order.  Then I can take flying form. That’ll save all this maritime malarkey!”

 

                “Just concentrate on Gnome form right now,”  suggested Halduamina.  “A Gnome getting ever higher up that swaying mast.”

 

                I think it was now I finally glimpsed what my friends were attempting, but I could not warn them, they were just too far away.  Buddynock climbed steadily up that narrowing rigging.  On this ascent our comrade knew better, on this ascent small Buddynock  clung tight whenever Unicorn rolled to port and the hungry sea yawned beneath his back, scrambling a few ratlines higher as Unicorn rolled to starboard, then grasping the rigging firmly again as our ship heeled back to port once more.

 

                Panting, muttering and swearing,  Buddynock Rubyrubb, redoubtable Forest Gnome Druid finally reached the wooden crow’s nest, the painted wood had crenellations like a castle turret.  Buddynock, caught his breath, gulped and peered inside. (“)

---

 

(*)           We were all too far away to actually hear any foul language, but in fairness we all knew our Druid only too well!

8

Explanations came thick and fast over a few pannikins of rum, explanations, some new expressions from Hugin and Mugin and my  humble apologies.  “So you slipped off to practice with Boreas without telling us?” Dain said dryly.  “Forget the risk from any hungry predators, you were more concerned about looking foolish trying to master riding a hippocampus in front of your friends!”

 

“It’s hardly easy,”  I said, “even with that special saddle I bought back in Svarstaag.”

“And that makes it wise and acceptable?” said Dain.  “Of all the fool tricks!”

 

“But no harm done,”  beamed Buddynock.  “And at long last I’ve met some kenku!”

 

“Why did you never tell us about them?” said Halduamina.

 

“When did you ever ask?” said brusque Alton the Halfling.

 

“Well at least that makes everything clear,”  I topped up Dain’s cup and smiled ruefully.

 

“Not  where Hugin and Mugin first heard the ‘friendly’ lady though!”  winked Buddynock.

                                                    Hugin and Mugin again drawn by Halduamina:  the Kenku sailors aboard the Cog Unicorn; 

                                                                    the only ship in all the Circle Sea with a genuine Crow’s Nest

Intelligent humanoid birds, kenku stand four feet high with crow black feathers, talons and beaks. Cursed by a vengeful God long ago, kenku cannot fly and cannot speak; they can only mimic what they hear with uncanny precision. Without words of their own, they must acquire sounds from others to express themselves.   So many folk see Kenku as merely malicious tricksters and thieves, unreliable, shifty,  always ready to steal.  Kenku, are usually shunned and driven to the shadows, flocking together in ruined buildings for protection.  Anyone always poor looks for money.  Anyone with few other fair choices can turn to crime.

  I had to wonder again about our blustering Captain Hadoke.  When so many people despise Kenku why had he permitted them aboard his ship?  Why those two blundering Bosun? Why those chains in the hold?  And why had Osian been beaten? 

Another day wore on.  The wind backed eastward, slowing our progress but by bracing the mainyard at a better angle, Unicorn still forged ahead.  On land all travellers must pause to sleep, yet a ship surges forward  day and night providing the wind is kind. It was little Osian who raised the alarm a little before noon.  All ships leak to some degree, we had all heard the sloshing bilge beneath our feet and seen our  crew take turns working the wooden pump to keep Unicorn trim.  Yet now there was two feet of water in the hold and rising!  Something, somehow had holed our ship!

 

Captain Hadoke gave orders with calm precision. All hands were summoned to their stations:  with four men placed on the pump. Nestor made sure the single ship’s boat was provisioned,  adding two further water kegs and boxes of ship’s biscuit.   Jumeau and Jhumeau prepared to fother a spare sail, stitching rope  ends and scraps of flapping cloth onto the canvas. They did avoid sewing through their own breeches accidentally but more by fools’ luck than careful judgement.  

 

As his crew took every precaution Captain Gállos Hadoke inspected his hold.  He beckoned us to follow him, our Driftglobes lighting a path with full daylight.   Unicorn’s cargo was stowed neatly,  crates and barrels each lashed firmly in place.  The inrushing water was deepest near the starboard bow.  Our Captain jumped down into the icy water without hesitation, big Niz and Benar at his back.  They shifted cargo, slashing ropes as needed, working with feverish precision in that tight space, conscious of the creaking timbers, the sea pressing close around us.  I mastered my fear and jumped down to assist, Captain Hadoke grunted what might possibly have been thanks and thrust a sopping bale into my hands.

 

Niz suddenly cursed, his right hand was bleeding.  “What by Procan’s blue bollocks is this?  I only touched that bastard box and-

 

“There,”  Benar pointed. “Just there sir.  Look the crate is ripped open.  That’s strange the crate was lined with steel on the inside.”

 

“Ripped no,”  Captain Hadoke peered closer and I saw his eyes widen.  “Dissolved.  Acid through the inner steel shell slowly and the outer wood quickly.  Piqûre de puce Cro-Magnon!  Something has burnt through the box and out of my ship!”

 

Now we all saw the yawning hole in the hull, a perfect circle, nearly eight feet across and well below the waterline. We saw an ink black pulsating mass plugging the hole, we saw it move, saw more sea water begin to flow into our wounded ship.  Captain Hadoke roared deep in his throat and sprang for the companionway.  Our Druid cast his new spell,  for one full day ten of us could breathe underwater.  Halduamina had his magic cap,  Buddynock would take dolphin form again.  Dain Rocksmiter and I stepped forward as Captain Hadoke removed his plumed hat, coat, boots and breeches and beckoned forward seven members of his crew to share the magic. Niz was injured so our Captain chose big Benar and the two elvish sailors,  Alton the spike haired Halfling, Jumeau and Jhumeau. “Young Osian too,”  barked Hadoke.”

 

“Is he going to fight?  Buddynock was truly surprised.”

 

“No he’s staying on board with Nestor, but Osian too.  In case we don’t succeed.”

 

Hugin now took the ship’s wheel while Mugin remained on watch at the mast head: they naturally could not risk their feathers while  Nestor had his working party daubing tar over the fothered sail. At this moment nobody cared if the deck was also stained. We only had our daggers, but Hadoke gripped his trident with both hands and  his six sailors drew short swords from the arms chest.

 

 Knotted ropes were lowered over Unicorn’s bulwarks.  I stared down into the pitiless endless ocean. I made myself stop thinking.  I leapt into the sea along with the others.  Salt water dashed my face,  for a moment I could not stop fighting to stay afloat.  Every instinct told me to hold my breath, every single instinct, but danger was pressing, I plunged beneath the waves, took one cautious breath and found myself breathing like a fish. Maybe it was a mercy there was no time to consider how strange this experience was!   Gallant Boreas was brushing against me, poor Dain  was paddling like a dog, and I nudged him nearer my steed’s trailing reins.  Lithe Halduamina was actually smiling, well, his magic cap left him breathing water and swimming as easily as joyful Ettle his otter familiar.  Captain Hadoke plunged forward, his chosen crew behind him; Buddynock  Rubyrubb in dolphin form led the way.

 

The rounded bulk of Unicorn loomed above us,  abyssal  open ocean depths lay beneath. A few of us were cut by barnacles on our ship’s hull, but we felt our way forward, our two faithful Driftglobes lighting our way.  On command they burst into full daylight and then we saw, then we saw so plainly.

 

The creature clung to Unicorn’s rounded hull,  a great glutinous mass of ebony ooze.  Pressed hard against the timbers, twisting tentacles extruding outward, a dread Morcilla Diablo, a creature neither plant nor animal, a creature ever hungry, engulfing all it can catch. Brave Buddynock charged home ramming his beak deep into the Black Morcilla, but our dashing Druid forgot Unicorn’s keel; poor Buddynock half stunned himself when he also slammed into the ship.  Captain Hadoke stabbed home with his trident as the rest of us closed with our daggers,  we carved collops of the creature away, but as our weapons touched the beast they began to flake and corrode.   Nimble Halduamina was a revelation in this fight, he wielded daggers in both hands and his Roguish skills were never more evident.  Halduamina inflicted more damage that the rest of us put together, his magic dagger withstood the acid but his normal blade suffered the same damage as ours.  We all struck again, we could scarcely miss, but the Black Morcilla  lashed out in a frenzy,  one dripping arm  only brushed  brave Halduamina for an instant yet the acidic ooze still burnt through his armour and flesh.  We saw our friend’s eyes widen in pain, the Black Morcilla struck again and missed, we buried our blades in its body a second, a third time.  We cut the monstrous beast into small pieces and watched them drop down away into the depths.

 

A fearsome Morcilla Diablo.

 “Looks like a great black pudding,” gasped Buddynock Rubyrubb.

“Then I don’t want to imagine where you eat breakfast,” said Halduamina

Brave Halduamina was dazed from the pain and bleeding heavily.  Buddynock was also injured.  We guided them back to the ropes and made sure they were hauled back safely aboard Unicorn as Nestor lowered the fothered sail into the water, the great mass of canvass, ropes and cloth all daubed with tar.  The pressure of the sea forced the sail against our hull as we guided it down to the yawning hole.  The encroaching sea pushed the fothered sail into the hole, plugging it, holding it firm.  We all scrambled aboard as fast as maybe; no wise sailor wants to be swimming when there is blood in the water. 

 

Dain tended to our wounded friends.  Captain Hadoke sighed when he saw his ruined trident  then threw it over the side.  Our poor ship was still taking in water but that packed sail was slowing the flow.  We worked the pump in relays now, all of us took turn.  We could not empty our bilges but we could keep Unicorn steady, we still had a chance of reaching Saltmarsh if the wind proved kind and wild Procan smiled. At least my Aundarian cleaning stone removed tar from our hands.

 

“Without you all and your spell of water breathing we would have lost the ship,”  Gállos Hadoke said quietly. “If we had kept surfacing to snatch air, that creature would have burnt a second hole.  Not to mention killing at least half of us and leaving the rest scarred for life.”

 

“If we had not been aboard I don’t think you would have been carrying an unknown Black Morcilla in the first place.” I replied evenly.  “Someone clearly wanted us dead and did not care how many innocent sailors drowned as well.”

 

"Mille sabords!  Yes we only shipped that crate aboard after we had your charter.  Just look at the box.  Lined with adamantine; who by thunder  could afford so much?  They knew a hungry Morcilla Diablo would burn a way through, but this would still take time all the same.  Just long enough for us to reach deep waters, far from land or any real hope of rescue.”

 9

Nestor the Mate saluted and confirmed the water level was holding steady, providing the pump was kept working night and day, providing our fothered sail held, Unicorn had a fighting  chance of seeing port again.  Saltmarsh was still the nearest port and we were still at least two days away.

 

We shared this labour with our crew, in teams of four for an hour each time.  We spent six shifts at that pump between each dawn and dusk.  Each sailor took his turn, officers and crew alike: Buddynock mainly working with Alton and the two Kenku  since their shared stature made the task far easier.  I think we worked with each of Unicorn’s crew in turn, snatching words between the rise and fall of the handles until we were simply too breathless for speech.  Only fools never feel fear and each of us knew Unicorn would suddenly founder in that patched sail gave way.  Each man was fully aware, yet despite all the grumbling and dark jokes each man still worked willingly, determined to play his part with all his strength.  Good fortune conceals so much; we often only see the truth whenever we face adversity.  I began to understand our Captain better,  we realised why this crew stayed loyal.  For all his bluster and bawling,  for all the drunkenness ashore, this Gállos Hadoke was a man of calm resolve, courage and skill.   In the last extremity a commander cannot fall back on titles or rank; in those last moments when safety or success sway in the balance a true leader is served willingly by  men who know and trust him and go beyond all expected limits to strength or will.  Orders mean so very little at the end: but men will break their backs for someone they admire.

 

Our blisters swelled and burst, crusted and hardened and still we worked that infernal pump. After the second day our party served turn and turnabout to give our weary crew time to work the ship, battered Unicorn was sailing well charted waters but that was no reason to relax our vigilance for an instant.   Our rations were snatched when we had time.  Buddynock eventually admitted Wilson was unable to assist us even if we “tinkered a tad with his gears.”   Our Druid took longer to accept we were not cheered by Oscar the parrot squawking ‘encouragement.” Day and night we worked that creaking pump.  “And some people take sea voyages for their health!”  muttered Dain Rocksmiter.

The wooden bilge pumps of  battered Unicorn.    

They  may lack the infamy of iron maidens,  thumbscrews or the rack  but they still rank as a torture apparatus!

The main incentive to keep working was the rising water in the bilges just below our boots.

 

 

“I … did … find … out … about … those … manacles,”  gasped Buddynock, his little body lifting from the deck, legs kicking, each time the pump handle rose.

 

“Kinky sailor hobby practices?”  said Halduamina between his teeth.

 

“Nope! … And … bet … you …. can’t … guess … why … they … are … there!”

 

“Buddynock your parrot is on my head again,” sighed Dain.  “And digging claws in.

Either tell us or don’t but make your mind up!”

 

                “Oscar … likes … your … beard.   … Maybe … he … wants … nest … stuff. “

 

                “Buddynock!”

 

                I have to give our Druid his due.  Buddynock Rubyrubb knows when a harmless distraction is good for our party. Sometimes I so enjoyed just listening to my friends.

 

                “Those … manacles … are …  for … Alton …”

                “What?  We’ve never seen him chained.”  Halduamia had clearly stopped thinking about the pumping.  Good!

 

                “Alton … is … only  … chained  … on … full … moons.”

 

                And Dain Rocksmiter was intrigued in spite of himself.  “No!  You’re not saying we have a were-hobbit on board?  And one with pink spiked hair!”

 

                “Nope!  You’ll … never … guess … but … it’s … dead … ob … vi… ous … when … you … think!”

 

                “Buddynock Rubyrubb!”

 

                “Alton … the … stroppy … Hobbit … sleep … walks … at … full … moon! … That’s … a … bit … iffy … aboard … a … ship!”

 

We shared some shifts with Captain Hadoke himself, despite the baleful glances he shot little Oscar. Our commander did not relax his gruff manner and he still avoided most questions.  We saw him smile through his beard when Buddynock gave a humorous spin to our past adventures but Gállos Hadoque maintained a careful silence about himself.  He admitted one piece of information: young Osian was a street urchin of Swarstaag fleeing hunger and harsh treatment.  Captain Hadoke claimed his  crew had asked to adopt the lad, yet we now knew the boy was only on board due to his own direct order.  Given chance and time young Osian would learn new skills to serve him at sea, a chance to make a life and a belief in his own abilities.  Given chance and time and the patience of someone troubling to be kind.  Each day Buddynock cast his waterbreathing spell as a precaution, each day different members of our crew shared the magic, but young Osian was included every time.  The only sailor always included,  Unicorn’s offices took turns along with their men.

 

To our surprise pompous Jumeau and Jhumeau supplied the last links in the chain;  after first pontificating the precise stance and angle to gain maximum benefit from working that cursed pump handle!  Gállos Hadoque once commanded a tall carrack in the service of his king, a captain of renown and skill, veteran of single ship fights and pell mell battle. Yet long years of loyal service and success count for nothing to a new ungrateful monarch.  The convoy action of Jervis Bay ruined Gállos Hadoque.  He fought his one ship against hopeless odds; his efforts allowed some of the merchant transports to escape; yet his crew died around him, their cargo of precious stones stolen, their battered carrack scuttled. Gállos Hadoque was stripped of his rank, home and pension by his angry king and driven into exile,  left to drink himself to death or simply starve.

 

“And this Unicorn is named in honour of his last ship?”  said Halduamia quietly.

 

“He never forgets her,” said Jumeau.

 

“Or his old crew?  Those still alive, “ asked Dain with a warmth in his voice I should have expected. Trust a dwarf to value loyalty come what may!

 

“We were both there,” nodded Jhumeau. “Nestor too.” 

 

“But Jervis Bay was decades ago.  Is Captain Hadoke still struggling to make ends meet even now?” I asked.

 

“He keeps giving money away at every dockside alms house,”  Jumeau and Jhumeau spoke together.  “And taking stray waifs aboard at the blink of an eye.”

               

Buddynock Rubyrubb blew his long nose loudly on a partially clean sleeve.  “He’d be quite likeable if he was less prejudiced about parrots!”

10

                Battered Unicorn still fought for her life.  We watched each change in the weather like gamblers staking their last gold coins.  Saltmarsh was still almost three hundred sea miles away.  At least Boreas the Hippocampus could assure us that tar smeared fothered sail was still firm in place below the waterline.

 

                We were learning the sea has many unwritten laws any decent mariner follows no matter the risk.  A ship may be holed but if she can still sail, her crew still know their duty.  Coastal waters draw fisher boats.  An urgent call from the masthead left Nestor  turning our wheel to starboard: any diversion from our course was dangerous but that small craft off our quarter was barely afloat and men might still be alive aboard her.

 

                Our hopes were dashed as we drew alongside and peered down into the skiff.  Her stern bore the name Kraken’s Covenant, there was no sign of life, not anymore, but we all saw bloodstains across the thwarts and the jagged holes between the planks.  Holes left  by weapons and inflicted from below.  I saw our crew’s reaction, heard the whispers run through our ship. Halduamina suggested taking planks to repair our own shattered hull.  His suggestion made good sense even if time was hard against us. Niz the carpenter sawed free what he could and salvaged  the sail too, anything to brace our poor patched hull from within.  

 

                We saw Captain Hadoke grimace, we saw the glance he exchanged with his officers. There was no undue haste or drama, but we saw our crew winding both ballista, as Nestor issued steel helms and weapons from the arms chest:  many short swords were damaged by the Black Morcilla but they were still the best close quarter weapons these sailors had.

 

                I heard our two elf sailors deep in conversation.   “Sea Devils are bad enough on land, but never never let them catch you underwater.  Better slit your own weasand than be taken!”  Taras spoke with cold hatred and spat into the sea,.   “I swear they are attacking more often now.”

 

“We should be forging an  alliance with the Aquan Elves, “ Arianard was testing the edge of his long knife.  “We  should be standing together.”

 

“You say the same every time .”

 

                “Does that make it any less true?” said Arianard.

 

                “Where will  you  find enough marines or sea crews to actually carry the fight to these Sea Devils?  Where?”  Taras was only growing more angry.  “No one will shoulder the risk, not yet, not until they are made to!”

 

                “And until then?” said Arianard wearily.

 

                “They won’t give an orc’s fart for another few score of good ships gone down to Procan with too many good sailors aboard them!”

 

                “Well not unless their pockets are hurt,”  Arianard smiled without mirth.

 

                “I know an alliance is the only way,” said Taras.  “I agree you are right but there are too few ships of men or elves.  And even your Aquan Elves could not tip the balance against hunting Sahuagin. You know how fast those scaled bastards spawn.”

 

                “Well we’ll just have to hope help comes from somewhere.”

 

                “But keep your arrow flights oiled and knife honed  all the same,” said Taras.

11

Captain Gállos Hadoke amidships aboard Unicorn, brass spyglass in hand, rapier ready.

All conversation was cut short with another call from the crows’ nest:  first the clash of steel blades, then the squeal of a mouse, groaning ship’s timbers and then the slither of caught fish cascading from a net.  A staccato drum beat sounded from both our kenku as the small crew of Unicorn beat to quarters and cleared for action.

 

We took turns with the Captain’s spyglass and saw a small fishing vessel far astern, low in the water, her tattered sail sprawling across the deck, we saw a desperate struggle as green grey creatures clambered from out of the sea. The stricken skiff was barely in sight, we had the wind gauge and were already clear.  We were safe, we could not be caught, the sea behind us was alive with these devils from the deep, we did not know the stricken skiff behind us or those few men still alive on her deck. These Sahuagin could never catch us now.

 

Captain Gállos  Hadoke cursed, his eyes blazing, cursed with profane, precise passion, words fit to shiver steel or corrode gold.  His small crew stood ready. Our furious Captain gave the order  and battered Unicorn began a long tack to bring her bluff bows into the wind, as close as she could bear.  We joined Captain Hadoke at the forecastle ballista as his crew ran boarding nets from yardarm to deck and Nestor ordered young Osian below. “Watch the fothered patch in the hull, watch for any sign of Sahuagin breaking through.  You’re watching all our lives down there lad!”

 

Two knotted ropes were made ready on the port beam, ropes with a foot loop at the end. Hugin and Mugin were out along the yards, joined by both nimble elves.  We had no spare hands for the pump not now, that slopping water in the bilges would have to see to itself. Our remaining crew were posted around Unicorn instead, ready with boarding pikes and light crossbows, short swords and daggers, ready to despatch the first Sahuagin trying to climb our bulwarks.

 

“The first oh definitely,” said Jumeau, with more dry wit than I expected.

 

“It’s the remaining sixty or so that might pose a problem!”  added Jhumeau.

Had they seen us?  We could not be sure not yet, but we caught our first clear sight of the Sahuagin now, each about six foot high, shark grey fish skin with pale bellies, webbed crests on their heads and behind their arms and legs.  Many wielding bronze tridents or bone spears, others with daggers shaped from jagged coral or shark teeth; some with merely their own fangs and claws.  Eight were already aboard the listing fishing skiff, the sea around her was a surging mass of frenzied Sea Devils,  forty at least were on the surface with more joining all the time.  We saw three men still fighting for their lives on the sinking men ripped and red with wounds, lashing at their foes with gaff hooks, a broken oar and flensing knives.

 

Now Sahuagin were pointing, turning in our direction.  Captain Hadoke grunted with satisfaction as his ballista bolt transfixed one Sea Devil,  Dain Rocksmiter and Halduamina plied their own bows and I was surprised my second arrow actually struck home.  Captain Hadoke raced to the waist of Unicorn, we were at his heels in an instant.  First Mate Nestor handled Unicorn with masterly skill, bringing us alongside the stricken half sunk fishing boat with barely a bump as Hugin and Mugin and the elves up on the main yard reefed our mainsail, tying back the flapping canvas with long trailing gaskets to slow Unicorn, maybe even stop her dead.  Big Benar and Flossi hurled grappling irons as gallant Boreas followed my command and charged home fighting furiously with hooves and teeth and his long whipping tail.  He could not be hurt or killed but my celestial steed could still keep a few savage foes engaged.

 

The two ballista could not be depressed enough for point blank foes at sea level,  A ragged volley of arrows and crossbow bolts shot down two Sea Devils and Dain’s first Guiding Bolt spell killed a third, but it was plain we could never clear that blood streaked deck with missiles alone, there were simply too many Sahuagin only to eager to pull themselves aboard the tiny boat.  One fisherman lay dead in the scuppers, his throat torn away, another was being dragged over the side tangled in his own nets, their three comrades would not survive another minute of this onslaught.

 

                “They’ve scented blood and are closing for the kill,” gasped Flossi the dwarf. 

 

"Mille sabords!  Bashi-bazouk! "Tonnerre de Brest!  Captain Gállos  Hadoke leapt headlong from his ship, long rapier in his right hand, an oak belaying pin clenched in his left, the long skirts of his violet coat flying behind him.  Captain Hadoke landed so heavily he almost burst through the bottom of the boat, but he rammed his rapier through the first Sea Devil he encountered, knocking a second back into the waves with his wooden club.  Halduamina and I were at his heels, by the Dog, I would never have dared such a leap in full plate.   More crossbow bolts flew from Unicorn as Dain Rocksmiter cast Guiding Bolts as fast as he could utter the incantation.  (*)

 

Brave Buddynock Rubyrubb was only half a pace behind, scimitar drawn for action, A wave caught the skiff, or some ravening Sea Devil pushed at the boat, to our horror poor Buddynock missed his footing, teetered on the brink,  his outstretched arms flailing, then he fell overboard without a word. My Sanctuary spell almost cast itself!  Three Sahuagin were closing on helpless Buddynock, their yawning mouths ringed with jagged teeth.  Two of the Sea Devils suddenly veered aside, confused by my warding magic, but the third was wiser, the third sank his trident deep into Buddynock’s side.

 

---

 

(*)           Emotions were high, we were fighting for our lives under conditions we had never faced before, yet I swear by the Nine Muses themselves I heard this quiet conversation behind me just as I leapt.

 

“No Wilson. No Stay!  Stay here!  Good boy.  You can have another rivet later!  Good boy,  good boy Wilson, let Oscar perch on your handle. No!  No shocks.  Oscar is a friend. Our  friend.  Yes I love you both.”

12

            

Sahuagin are commonly dubbed Sea Devils for good reasons.

As brutal as orcs, as ravenous as trolls, as disciplined as hobgoblins at least until they smell blood,

fearsome warriors within their own dark element and able to enter ours whenever they choose.

 

                 I think our Dain Rocksmiter would have leapt into the water himself to save poor  Buddynock if big Benar had not cast a knotted rope a hand’s breath from our Druid.  Another  instant and injured Buddynock was hauled up the side of Unicorn,  bleeding from two bad wounds but still clutching his scimitar.  Another Sahuagin spear bit home before our Gnomish Druid was safe.  We heard warning shouts from the crew aboard Unicorn, our sailors were jabbing home with boarding pikes at any Sea Devil appearing above the steep bulwarks.  High over our heads Hugin and Mugin  were roaring like the Midgard Serpent himself but these foes were too wily to fall for such a ruse.

               

                Gállos  Hadoke  fought with rakish audacity, his hat awry, his long coat dancing.  His sword sank home through one Sahuagin,  his heavy belaying pin dashed the brains from a second.  Lightning flared from Halduamina’s hands; his cantrip left Sahuagin shaking helplessly unable to move. I sorely missed my trusty shield  but plied long Talon with both hands, calling on Athene herself to aid me.  My long sword cleaved one Sea Devil in two.   Dain Rocksmiter’s Guiding Bolts burst in shining radiance among our foes, slaying some, leaving others an easy mark for our blades.

 

                We had a foothold on the sinking fishing skiff now,  but for every Sahuagin we killed or wounded another two fought to join the fight. The small boat was rocking in the water and for a terrifying moment I really thought we might capsize.  These Sea Devils had scented blood, they wanted to feed and our lives would not be worth a bent copper coin if we fell into that teeming water.

One fisherman slipped and staggered; he was pulled backwards over the side, his dark eyes wide with fear, We fought our way through to his comrades. I missed with one cut, heard Gállos Hadoke cursing me “shape up ye lubberly dog!”   I flushed with shame and anger, curving long Talon with a back cut and dropped one hissing Sahuagin forever.

The faces of Sahuagin are truly terrifying, those jagged teeth, their dark pitiless eyes from another world, another existence.  Eyes full of savagery and blood lust, the desire to rip and rend and feed, 

but eyes so intelligent all the same, the calm, measuring gaze of a creature with full knowledge.

 

 

Captain Hadoke fought with a berserker’s fury, engaging two, no three Sahuagin now, kicking one into the scuppers and throwing his belaying pin to knock another back into the sea,  Our Captain’s magic ring of evasion gleamed with power as his feet almost slipped.  Anyone falling was doomed, anyone dragged over the side down into that churning water would never be seen in this world again.

 

                We hacked our way through to those two surviving fishermen, dragged them behind us to the knotted ropes hanging from dear Unicorn.  I felt a pang of pain, gallant Boreas had been despatched back to his own plane of existence, overwhelmed by hopeless numbers.  A sudden Moonbeam spell left one Sahuagin roaring with pain and surprise, from far away I heard our dripping and vengeful Druid shouting: “Oh Wilson if only you could hover!”

 

                Both injured fishermen were hauled to safety, their skiff was lower in the water now, barely afloat. I glanced at those two ripped bodies in the scuppers,  I hated to leave them, I knew they would be eaten and despoiled but we had no chance, no time. There was certainly no possibility to cast Revivify.  Two climbing ropes hung down from Unicorn’s tall side, there was simply no space for another.  Gállos Hadoke was bleeding from two deep spear wounds but his eyes were gleaming.  our Captain still refused to run first.

 

I gasped a quick word to brave Halduamina: “would you really mind going next, paladins you know …, we’re … well, expected…  to be last.”  Our Rogue nodded, sent a second Sahuagin reeling with his last dissonant whisper spell and leapt with feline grace for the ropes. Nimble Halduamina was hauled aboard Unicorn, with frantic speed as two thrown tridents smashed into the hull,  a third injuring our Rogue.    Halduamina could not spare a hand for little Ettle, but he did not need to,  one word of command and his otter familiar blinked from this existence, to  be recalled again like Boreas when time permitted.

The fishing skiff was awash to the thwarts now, as more eager Sahuagin scrambled aboard, scenting blood, scenting the chance to feed.   “Now Captain, now please!  We go together, please!”.  Bleeding and badly wounded gallant Gállos Hadoke finally seized hold of the rope, once he saw I was also grasping my own line.  I cast my very last spell about our injured Captain, this Sanctuary magic warded him on that vulnerable climb to safety.  I felt myself rising, a sea of hissing Sea Devils barely below me. One desperate Sahuagin leapt up and clung to my boots,  I kicked out frantically and he fell away as Jumeau and Jhumea knocked him senseless by dropping a heavy water keg.

 

Even as Captain Hadoke and I were hauled to safety, our Mate had kept his head;  Nestor had already given the order and Hugin and Mugin with the two elves out on the yards were releasing our mainsail from the long gaskets, desperate to start Unicorn moving once more.  I realised as never before, the skill and discipline within this small crew.  Any panic, any mistake or uncertainty would have doomed us all, that hunting band of Sahuagin would have overhauled and overwhelmed us, for they cared nothing for wounds or losses in their eagerness to feed.

 

We felt battered Unicorn surging forward, the reef shaken from her sail, catching the quickening breeze and sped faster by a hasty gust of wind spell from Buddynock.   Our aft ballista shot into the furious Sahuagin astern,  Dain cast his last Guiding Bolt.  I staggered to my feet and joined my comrades at the stern castle, the eager Sea Devils  were maintaining their pursuit, some on the surface, others beneath the waves.  We loosed arrows and bolts at any we could see; we kept shooting until our bloodied enemies at last gave up the chase.  Even then Captain Hadoke doubled the watch after dark and left each boarding net rigged tight,  though they made it somewhat harder to handle the ship.  Battered Unicorn had somehow escaped once;  she could not take that same risk again.

 

                Dain and I healed every wound, but we could do little for those two fishermen we did save.  Sleep was the kindest medicine at the moment, for two distraught men with their livelihood lost, three friends and family torn apart before their eyes.  The Sea Devils had suddenly surfaced around them, attacking immediately without any challenge.  Two other Saltmarsh boats had vanished last month but were they sunk by accidents or some breeching whale?  Without accurate knowledge of Sahuagin numbers how could any clear action be taken?  The Council of Four was still considering, but so far little was certain and nothing had been done. These two fishermen were only sure of this: they knew the risks of their trade but could not remain safely onshore and watch their families starve.

 

We worked the pumps with little respite, poor Unicorn had gained three feet of water during our struggle with the Sahuagin,  she was labouring badly now, sluggish, down by the head  and slow to respond to her helm.  Any sudden storm would surely have sunk us,  but our luck held, we sailed in sight of land now, as Captain Hadoke’s careful navigation steered us safely along the coast and past the naval base at Seaton; half a day later we finally made Saltmarsh on the evening tide.  We saw a headland to port, a small star shaped island with two enormous runestones, we saw low hills ahead and a sprawling township; the buildings seemed so small after Svarstaag, but the docks seemed busy enough, for three boats came out to meet us once they saw poor Unicorn was struggling.

 

Our defiant crew waved away any offers of assistance, we wanted no help, not now, not so close to safety and our wily Captain would take no chance of anyone claiming salvage over his ship.  Battered Unicorn inched her way into the harbour to safe moorings.  She would need a week of repairs to sail again, but we were invited to stay aboard by her grateful crew.

 

---

 

(*)           Gállos Hadoke would certainly send urgent word of our battle to the  naval commander at Seaton but once our Captain was finally  confident  battered Unicorn would reach Saltmarsh, he had no wish to anchor at the wrong port , where some overzealous officer might delay him unloading his chartered cargo.    Well, any cargo that survived being soaked in salt water.

 

13

Saltmarsh at last, as evening falls

 

 

We joined Captain Hadoke to make our report at the Mariners’ Guildhall.  Any seafarer fears Sahuagin raiders.  Our news was unwelcome but I suspect not entirely unexpected.  We confirmed the loss of Kraken’s Covenant with all her crew;  the two surviving fisherman from the second skiff described their own horrific experience.  I am simply grateful we did not have to speak with the families of their dead crewmates.

 

                Our quest was underway, at last our desperate search could begin.  Time was pressing, we could not delay, we had to find the truth to these rumours of a portal rift  nearby. But tonight we must rest all the same, tonight we were simply grateful to be back on dry land once more.  Tomorrow our work would begin, today we would simply draw breath.

 

                Well, most of us.  “I’m on the raz tonight with spiky Alton,  Hugin and Mugin,” Buddynock beamed brighter than a Fire Salamander.  “One evening to really expand their vocabulary!”

 

 

 

 

BEING   an   END to BOOK XII

NOTE I

 

We  had won nothing from our  sixteen days afloat save some good friends and trusted comrades.

 

We  were actually worse off due to the damage from that accursed Black Morcilla Diablo. We each had a ruined dagger and Halduamina’s leather brigandine had not survived.

 

“Back in Svarstaag you said let’s pay 100 gold crowns to have our daggers inlaid with silver,” Buddynock tugged on my sleeve for attention and stared up at me fiercely. “Any thoughts on that now?”

 

I could only smile ruefully.

 

Buddynock turned to Dain.  “But your Mending cantrip?”

 

“Only works on small rips and breaks,” sighed Dain.  “Not corrosive digestive acids.”

 

“Well I am still buying another silvered dagger,”  I insisted. “It’s a pity about my old one though.  Not many Paladins are reduced to throwing their daggers into a mob of charging ghouls before they quite close to claws and fangs.”

 

“Yes I remember that too,” said Buddynock. “And how Ghouls appear when you can’t move a muscle and they are reaching for your giblets!   You watch yourself Halduamina. These two quest merchants lead you astray they do!”

 

 

 

 

 

NOTE II:

 

Hugin and Mugin were clearly pleased and relieved we had finally docked safely at Saltmarsh.

 

They signalled their pleasure very loudly and persistently from the crows’ nest.

 

I fear the entire crew of Unicorn are now barred from staying at Cirdan the Shipwright’s Sober Sailors’ Mission.

 

After the first six eager bystanders on the quayside, Captain Gállos Hadoke delegated both Bosun responsibility for confiming, despite appearances, the cog Unicorn did not offer any specialist recreational facilities