Being the Chronicle of Cadan Dalmas, Knight
BEING a BEGINNING to BOOK XIV
So braggarts boast. So braggarts proclaim their renown to all the world. Some days they may truly deserve their acclaim and have good reason to swagger, yet I still prefer those quiet words of Sir Ector de Maris, his lament for gallant Lancelot and all lost hopes and faded dreams: “There thou liest, thou that were never matched of earthly knight’s hand; and thou were the courtliest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man that ever strake with sword; and thou were the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights; and thou was the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in rest.”
And I also recall those words carved deep above the great temple at Delphi: “Μηδὲν ἄγαν,” “Nothing in Excess.” To be true, we simply must be true, without artifice or ostentation. Rehearsed reticence wears a tawdry livery, false modesty keeps one eye firmly fixed on any audience. (*)
So yes, any Paladin has a certain perspective. Each rightful quest must be attempted come what may; each rightful quest must be accomplished no matter the cost. And yes, such views are not always shared. “By Olidammara’s fancy fingers!” Halduamina sounded truly hurt. “Wrestle one task to the ground and just expect another winging your way!” Our Half Elf Rogue pulled his lucky piece from his pocket. Fast as thought, the silver coin spun gleaming through the air, then plunged down into his pouch in the blink of an eye. A neat trick no matter how many times I watched. (**)
We had met the five worthies of Saltmarsh once again, making our report as soon as austere Skerrin the Butler ushered us into the Guild Hall. I admit I do not find most of them easy company. The dwarf Manistrad sits stolid as a statue unless her beloved mine is ever threatened. Grey-haired Eda Oweland would bicker over a bucket of rotting fish heads even after selling six full trawl nets. Gellan the dandy, takes such pains to appear a friend to all the world. He smiles, his golden monocle gleams; Gellan’s praise is always effusive, but I would not like to rest my full weight upon it.
Wise men beware far more than mere orcs!
(*) I mean no criticism of my friend. Buddynock Rubyrubb is never boastful, not really, my friend is simply enthusiastic, uninhibited and usually so grateful to still possess four limbs and his long nose, he just has to tell some other reveller his latest escapade.
Often embroidered so lavishly the famed tapestry of Bayeux could pass as a privy wipe in comparison!
(**) I cannot say I care for nimble Halduamina’s Trickster God.
Sly Olidammara has his place, I suppose, yet I cannot claim to feel comfortable in his presence.
2
Does Skerrin the Butler prompt young Anders Solmer? I cannot be sure, but I certainly wonder. I gather Anders lost his renowned mother only recently. Petra Solmer steered their trading company and fishing fleet for years and bashful Anders still seems uncertain in his new duties. Did he have a different mentor now? Watchful Skerrin was always in attendance and Ander’s gratitude was palpable. Had a mere servant usurped Lady Solmer’s place! I still could not say how long our time in Saltmarsh would last. I simply placed increasing faith in that bluff veteran Elliander Fireborn. He still saw the world with a soldier’s eye. That brings limitations, it always, inevitably does, but at least it also means a mind well used to grim realities and simple duty, however unwelcome they may be. He also knew all choices carry a price.
We devoted one morning to interrogating our eight prisoners, but we learnt little even with my Zone of Truth spell and Buddynock’s Charm enchantments. That was regrettable yet hardly surprising; we never expected simple sailors to know much. At least we could be sure most of these smugglers answered our questions to the best of their ability. One foolish sailor failed to conceal his contempt when he resisted all our spells. I tried not to smile for that scarcely mattered providing we realised. Even false testimonies can have their uses and we could now gauge the statements of those men more willing to cooperate. Our prisoners were returned to their cells by noon. They would be sent for sentencing whenever a sufficient escort could be spared. (*)
At least our magic opened one mouth. Tylo the Assassin revealed that a tall, pallid man in Seaton hired him to end our investigation into the smuggling ring. Tylo could not provide a name or better description, well, that was inevitable for they spoke in the shadows and this tall man was masked. We had learnt something important all the same. It is all too easy to imagine all threads form part of the same skein. Tylo was brutal and wholly unscrupulous, that was plain as a squire’s shield, but he was clearly sane and clearly governed solely by greed. This was evil bought by gold; this assassin was no part of any Tharizdun cult.
And we also knew the name of that wizard from the cave. Sanbalet had fled, transformed into a cloud of vapour, but his arcane skill was only too obvious, the man had countered spell after spell and his vicious crew had come so close to overwhelming us. Our prisoners also confirmed a single ghost haunted the decaying manor above their cave, the spirit of that long dead alchemist walking abroad. “And also floating through bleedin’ floors and walls as well as touching people very inappropriately!” exclaimed our aggrieved Druid.
 |
Saltmarsh Barracks and Gaol are not widely renowned for their soothing ambience.
(*) “This could go one of two ways,” Dain had said carelessly to our worried captives as he casually honed the edge of his rune axe Grom. “As could you.”
“Simultaneously!” grinned Buddynock Rubyrubb.
3
Our prisoners also told us a single ship, the Sea Ghost made regular voyages loaded with weapons ‘diverted’ from the Seaton armouries, a corrupt quartermaster was clearly part of this criminal cabal, as well as trade goods gone ‘missing’ in transit, bales of cloth and wine casks seized from ambushed convoys. Sometimes these smugglers shipped passengers too; travellers who rarely spoke and never gave their names. The Sea Ghost was in mid passage now and heading home from tropic Chult. If wind and waves proved kind, she was due again at the sea cave in five days’ time.
We had other concerns, more immediate and closer to home. Twenty-two Saltmarsh sailors had already been lost at sea this year; some to storms and shipwreck, some to creatures from the deep, but most killed by predatory Sahuagin. Their numbers were growing, their ferocity was terrifying, but not even veteran mariners had expected their latest attack. Eliander Fireborn brought us to a small dwelling close to the Saltmarsh waterfront, once the home of a small family struggling to make a living, now the scene of a frenzied crime. On a moonless night, something murderous had come from out of the bay, killers which could manipulate a door latch and bolt. The two rooms were a sea of smashed furniture and blood; parents and children had all been brutally slain, their bodies ripped apart and dragged beneath the waves.
“Sahuagin, I would stake my other leg on that,” barked Eliander, his eyes fierce, his voice hollow. “Whenever Sea Devils scent blood they lose all restraint, you saw that yourself when you faced them on Procan’s Fancy. This family died in their beds before they could even scream for help.”
“You will strengthen the harbour watch?” I said. “Especially when the tide is highest?”
“Of course!” spat Eliander. “You do not have to tell me! I will have to face the neighbours and face my Watch and face the ‘wise and august’ council of Saltmarsh! I will have to tell them I cannot protect the town, not adequately, not efficiently against this! But how does anyone expect me to defend Saltmarsh when we have no walls and no strongpoints; unless Keledec the Silent can cram an entire town into his mage’s tower we have no refuge at all from serious attack. Try asking the worthy council of Saltmarsh for funds. Just try!”
“I am sorry.” I began. “I did not mean to criticise; I can see the situation you face. Lesser officers would drink themselves to a stupor, resign or run away. It takes a brave commander to face down the impossible and honour his trust.”
Eliander Fireborn blinked, seemed about to speak, then swiftly changed the subject. “This is not even the only killing. My patrols found a second corpse, down by Crabbers Cove. A young woman left dead in a busy warehouse; her throat ripped apart.”
“Was she outraged in any other way?” I asked quietly.
Eliander shook his grey head. “No. Not that. But one thing though. Here we find pools of blood, and stains on the walls and even the ceiling. We found so little blood in that old warehouse despite the gaping wounds to her neck.
“Can we assist?” said Dain, “We would be glad to.”
“I need to calm fears here,” said Elliander Fireborn. “I need to do this personally; the fishers must hear someone they already know. If you can investigate the killing at the warehouse, I would be most grateful. The dead girl has been in Saltmarsh for only a few weeks. Solitary, no friends, and down to her last few coppers. I suspect she was either looking for somewhere to sleep or for something to steal.”
“Do we know the owner?” asked Halduamina. “They would be a likely place to start.”
Elliander’s grim mouth twitched. “Granchio the Limpet? She would begrudge you half a breath unless you paid her first. She rents out the warehouse to half a dozen small fishers and traders, you’ll find they store torn nets and spare equipment there.”
The walk would not take us long. Crabbers Cove lay to the north, hugging the coast. Ahead we saw The Leap, an outcrop of rock a hundred feet above the churning sea. Moss covered stone posts stood at the cliff top and well-worn paths through the waving sea grass led right to the very edge.
“So, you’re honestly saying when a loved one drowns at sea their friends and family jump off this cliff into the waves?” Halduamina shook his elegant head in disbelief. “No, I just don’t believe it.”
“It’s only a short swim back to land apparently.” Buddynock Rubyrubb inched his long nose over the cliff and shuddered. “Can’t see too many rocks in the way. I suppose that’s one bonus.”
“Providing your madder than a rabid Gnoll!” said Halduamina. “There’s no profit in a plunge that I can see.”
“Everyone has their own customs.” I almost grinned as I heard these gruff words. Dain knows his own mind but always respects the rights of others to walk their own path. Perhaps I should not be surprised; any Cleric devoted to nature must see so many myriad forms of life, nothing perfect, nothing permanent, just entities simply existing in balance under the stars.
Crabbers’ Cove lay east of the last docks along the shores of a secluded bay. We saw fewer people now, and those we did encounter appeared less wealthy and more wary than other Saltmarsh citizens. No small fishing port spares deck space for social niceties but this quiet neighbourhood was clearly more tumbledown than the rest of the town. I would not fear wandering these alleys alone after dark, but I would still remain wary all the same. Nets hung over wooden poles to dry, small boats were drawn up hard against the sand. The homes were not exactly hovels, not quite, but these were a long sea mile from Gellan Primewater’s gilt and gemstones or Anders Solmer’s mansion. The warehouse we sought stood alone and the ancient timbers were so warped we could glimpse into the darkness within. This Granchio the Limpet clearly claimed her rent without spending a copper on maintaining her investment. Her nickname was certainly no accident!
They stepped so suddenly from the shadows. Both elderly, their heads shaking with a palsy, they saw my holy owl of Athene and begged my aid; plucking at my elbow, their wizened fingers struggling to gain any hold on my polished vambrace. It was a moment before I understood them, well, their accent was strong, and fear and need sent their words stumbling.
“We understand,” nodded Dain. “A sick son, the only prop they have to lean on in old age. Go with them Dalmas we will meet again soon.”
I sensed no evil in the ancient couple, just desperation. “If you are sure, I will join you inside as soon as I am done.”
My three comrades pushed open the warehouse door and Dain’s Drift globe set the shadows dancing. At least fifty feet square, the floor was flagged with stone. Barrels and crates filled the interior, trawl and sein nets hung from the rafters, ropes and cordage fell down from the beams. The Saltmarsh Watch had marked the location of the young woman’s body; she had died in the centre of the room, arms outstretched for the door.
“Running from someone already inside?” mused Halduamina.
“Someone she met here?” asked Dain.
“Someone unexpected?” said Buddynock. “She was all alone poor thing, looking for somewhere dry to sleep.”
“But where did her killer go?” said Halduamina. “The Watch found no one. Saltmarsh citizens might regard smuggling with an easy eye but killing young women? Few citizens would rest easy with that, if only to protect their own families.”
“You said most murders are committed by someone known to the victim.” Buddynock Rubyrubb was genuinely perturbed. Crimes of violence have no place in his peaceful society; for all his jokes and wild living our Gnomish comrade never meant harm to anyone, and the thought of any vicious assault filled him with dismay.
“But this girl was new to Saltmarsh, she knew no one, according to Eliander. She had asked for work and begged her meals, she surely encountered her killer by accident,” said Halduamina.
“One moment,” said Dain. His detect magic spell had revealed nothing, but even the Twelve Gods trust any dwarf to discover shoddy masonry. “Here!” exclaimed Dain. “Lift here.” One paving slab was not lying flush and grunting with effort my friends raised the stone. Freezing darkness yawned below them, frigid air made them gasp, they gazed down at a spiral stairway. (*)
“Is Dalmas still not done?” said Buddynock. Our Druid sighed. “Just wait one tick.” He plucked a stick of chalk from his pouch and drew a white arrow pointing to the hole. “Let’s make sure our clanking knight does not miss us eh!”
“Do you really need to leave the “sketch” too?” sighed Dain.
“Ah! Dalmas knows I love him really!” grinned Druid Buddynock. “He might even be flattered!”
Resolute Dain Rocksmiter led the way, testing each step with his pole of collapsing, Halduamina and Buddynock hard on his heels. The stone walls were ancient, far older than expected, the blocks pitted with mould and crumbling. After twenty feet down the stairs ended, and a short corridor loomed ahead, barely five foot wide, the walls joining together in an arch.
(*) “Actually, this stairway forms a helix, not a spiral,” Dain Rocksmiter spoke with the grim determination of a messenger who galloped through a whole Cockatrice conclave to bring word. “Look I’m a Dwarf right, we’re supposed to notice stonework and masonry. Oh! So it’s fine for Gnomish Druids to chatter incessantly about herbal concoctions or paladins to explain AGAIN the core principles of heraldry but I’m not permitted to point out an enduring and entrenched fallacy about non-linear stone stairways!”
4
“Something tells me nobody in Saltmarsh knows this is here,” whispered Halduamina.
“You think?” said Buddynock Rubyrubb. Our Druid peered gloomily into the darkness and set his beloved construct Wilson onto the floor. “My turn? How did I guess? No Wilson. Wilson, good boy! Stay, stay here. Daddy will be back soon. Yes, be very good and I’ll give you another rivet for tea.”
One moment a small Gnome stood clad in his green hooded cloak, the next instant a brown rat looked up from the stone flagged floor, preened his whiskers and crept forward alone into the dark. I well know how hard it is to wait whenever Druid Rubyrubb is scouting ahead and Dain’s knuckles gleamed white around the haft of Grom, all the while tallying the time in his mind. At least Buddynock scampered back a few moments later, checked his tail for cobwebs and changed form again. “A narrow corridor runs forty feet then turns at right angles, then runs into a larger chamber. Big and echoing and more chill than a miser’s smile and no I’m not sticking my whiskers in there all by myself!” said Buddynock Rubyrubb. “It all bodes decidedly umpty. In my opinion!”
“Wise,” nodded Dain.
“Wait for Dalmas?” asked Halduamina.
“He’ll be here soon,” said Buddynock. “He might be clumsy, noisy and hopeless at off the cuff sing songs or naughty dominoes, but you can count on him to keep his word. Just one thing. The floor is covered in rat bones. And I mean covered. Great heaps of the little things. Thousands of them.”
“Do rats crawl to special shared places when they are dying?” asked Halduamina.
Dain shook his head. “And no, don’t start that again Buddynock. Despite your rumours rats do not form the basis of dwarf cuisine! Especially not ‘inna bun!’”
Soon my comrades slowly peered into the long chamber. The air was still, the cold was deathly, their breath hung visibly in the air. Dust lay thick upon the floor, the valiant Drift globe almost seemed to be fighting the darkness, the only sound was the gentle clicks from Wilson’s wheels. Four stone coffins lay in the centre of the room; a tall stone statue stood in one corner; a warrior wielding a spiked flail, his cuirass of ancient pattern, his carved shield a crescent moon lined with fangs.
Dain’s second detect magic spell was cast within a heartbeat. “It’s just a statue,” said our careful Cleric. “Yes, it really is just a statue. I promise.”
“In writing?” Buddynock Rubyrubb, stared wide eyed into the gloom. “You’re absolutely sure, no doubts, no doubts at all. It still looks more than a tad iffy to me!”
“It’s just a statue,” insisted Dain. “And something else which is not a bloody mimic either!”
“One of those stone coffins is open,” whispered Halduamina.
“Bust as a buxom barmaid!” agreed our Druid.
“Check the others?” said Halduamina, peering into the darkness.
There was a pause. An expectant one.
“You mean I lift the lids,” sighed Dain.
“Well, you’ve got the magic gauntlets,” said Buddynock.
The first coffin revealed nothing but dust and crawling beetles. The second took all Dain’s strength even with his Gauntlets of Ogre Power. It was empty as well, the occupant long returned to the elements and even the name carved upon the stone had crumbled away. Only two were left now, only two.
Those last sixty feet I covered at a run, my steel sabatons striking sparks from the stone flags as I raced to rejoin my friends, running headlong through that choking corridor, running heedless of noise, running with desperate speed as soon as I sensed the fell creature rising up out of the last stone sarcophagus. “Vampire!” I bawled. “Vampire! For pity’s sake flee!”
Xolec, the dread Vampire of Saltmarsh, alone and feral, ravenous and waiting in the dark
It rose. We glimpsed a face like scraped bone and two fire red eyes. A creature gaunt as winter famine, it stank of the grave, we heard a hungry hiss of satisfaction. Nimble Halduamina raced for the corridor, but little Buddynock froze in horror, the vampire was barely five yards away and between Dain Rocksmiter and the door. Our dauntless Cleric called upon holy Marthommir Duin, brave Dain summoned his divine grace to aid us. We heard Dain’s deep voice chanting; familiar words, verses of power and might. For a moment the vampire’s face convulsed, for a moment only, then the carmine lips parted in expectation as the fiend rose fully to its feet.
Buddynock Rubyrubb dashed a vial of holy water at the vampire’s head, the fell creature snarled with pain, one cheek and ear blistered and burnt. Any true Druid loathes the Undead and our Gnomish comrade swore with satisfaction, but an instant later the vampire locked eyes with little Buddynock, its stare drawing our comrade like iron to a lodestone. I tried to turn the fiend myself; my holy words hammered home, I know they did, but again, again, this creature of darkness, this enemy from the pit, simply ignored our powers and glided forward. Sometimes any of us must simply trust to luck and little Buddynock was surely born under a kindly star. The vampire lunged; two talon tipped hands snatched at our Gnomish friend. Lithe Buddynock, ducked and dodged, as claws tore the hem of his cloak, then Master Rubyrubb was racing for the archway, faithful Wilson hard on his heels, full gears engaged and squealing. This vampire’s speed was terrifying, the Nosferatu lunged at Buddynock again, but his bucket automaton managed to deflect the attack and our Druid comrade won clear to the narrow door.
The vampire paused, turned. Two blazing eyes bored into my soul, one long clawed finger beckoned. I actually felt my feet starting to shift! I was called, mesmerized, for one anguished heartbeat I lost all sense of self, all mind and will of my own, as this creature of darkness summoned me to step forward, head bowed, to stand like some beast in the shambles as those fangs tore out my throat. Thanks be to kindly Athene, all honour to grey eyed Pallas ever maiden, she who fights in the front rank of battle; I shook the foul contagion from my soul, I parried one claw, the second raked my armour in vain. Valiant Dain had stood firm while his comrades escaped, valiant Dain had twice tried to hold our fearsome foe in check, but now, at last, our Dwarvish Cleric was retreating too, his kite shield raised, his rune axe calling out each stroke and his gleaming spiritual weapon swinging at the advancing undead.
Like Dain Rocksmiter I was falling back facing our enemy, shield up, sword darting, we did not dare turn our backs, we did not dare to run; our retreat was slow, deliberate, for let that creature of darkness seize hold even once and we would be grappled to the ground, held helpless for that bite of death, our last thoughts in this world, pain and terror, shame and absolute fear. The vampire suddenly surged forward hissing with triumph, poor Dain was trapped, cut off from the door. He was doomed, helpless, yet even now Dain Rocksmiter still bellowed defiance: “Baruk Khazâad! Khazâd ai-mênu!” Our undead foe merely licked his blue lips, we heard a death rattle hiss of satisfaction, we glimpsed two eyes gleaming like blazing coals. The vampire rushed forward, long arms stretched wide, only to scowl in fury as brave Dain was suddenly cloaked in shimmering light. My sanctuary spell could not endure for long, but our dwarven comrade seized his chance and ran pell mell for the door.
Halduamina had fallen back down the corridor and little Buddynock, raced down the passage behind him, his short legs pounding like pistons. At last, our retreat was clear. Now Dain and I stood at bay at the chamber door. Our undead foe was barely scratched, the wounds from Buddynock’s holy water were already healing. I hurled two flasks of my own, they hit, we saw the vampire’s corrupt flesh burning, we heard the fell creature snarling with pain, yet this fiend still advanced inexorably towards us, fangs bared, long talons reaching for our throats. My friend mouthed words of power, now clever Dain cast a choking growth of hawthorn in the passageway, the holy tree any undead fears. We sighed with sheer relief, we turned to run, we glanced back to see this vampire simply dissolve into a shimmering mist, dissolve and pass through the tangled thorns.
For a second Dain and I gaped with horror and then we both dashed for the winding stair. We could not reach the warehouse door, we had no hope of gaining the blessed daylight outside, but death was behind us, death was reaching for us, death and dishonour, shame and the loss of our very souls. Every step we could take, every foot nearer that bright sunlight offered a morsel of life. The mist coalesced and the ravenous vampire stood there once more. Dain and I were still sixty feet from safety, we heard, we glimpsed Halduamina throwing the warehouse doors wide open, desperate to flood the building with all the daylight still present; we heard Buddynock frantically casting his Moonbeam spell, trying any battle magics which could give us a chance to flee.
The creature’s strength was appalling. Not even dread Venomfang could compare. The vampire was reaching for me, I broke free from its grapple and again my stout cuirass foiled its scrabbling claws. I called on Pallas Athene, I cast a Wrathful smite, I swung long Talon, once, twice, cleaving its cold flesh to the bone. My blow could have swept an ogre’s head clean from its shoulders! And now, oh at last our magic took affect! This creature of darkness was finally outstripping its fell powers! By the Dog, by Sacred Olympos, by the wine-dark sea and the sacred grove, for a moment the vampire actually reeled back from my smite! Barely a heartbeat, barely a step, but still a chance for gasping Dain and I to run for the warehouse door.
I
have never been so thankful simply to be alive. This was a foe far
beyond our strength. If this foul creature had not been so ravenous
we would never have escaped alive, the vampire would have simply
drawn us forward one by one, each of us charmed and helpless. Yet
now we
stood in the open doorway. Behind us the vampire lurked in the
shadows, the great gashes left by my longsword knitting together even
as we stared. Soon the pallid flesh showed no sign of any injury. No
one moved. Time seemed to stand still. We heard a voice like the
creak of a hanged body dangling from a gibbet.
“Wait. I come no closer. You know that.” The vampire’s words seeped from the shadows. “I have knowledge you need.”
“He can’t walk into this sunlight,” I growled, but I still held my sword in a grip of stone. I knew my mace Lightbringer would be more effective against any undead, but I did not dare loosen my hilt for even an instant, not with those blood red eyes glinting yards away.
“And there’s definitely no risk of any sudden solar eclipse?” muttered Halduamina.
“I am Xolec Master of the Darkness, Xolec rightful ruler of this place. Cursed by a foul cleric to this one chamber, unable to leave unless someone of good heart carries me clear.” The vampire’s eyes were dimmed but we sensed his hungry gaze, watchful as a pike in a mill pool.
“Long centuries I have lain here, time without end, years beyond counting. Lift my coffin from this empty place, carry me away and I give my word, my honour never to return. Lift my coffin from this empty place and I shall tell you all I know, all the names of the Scarlet Brotherhood of Saltmarsh. I know who came, I know who still comes. I know what you need and now you know my price!” By the Nine Muses, when vampires have nothing else, they still have their voice! And often they need nothing more. These Nosferatu toy with their victims; they draw their prey forward to serve their base desires. (*)
“How could we know you would keep your word?” I asked and Dain Rocksmiter stared at me in sudden surprise.
“How do I know you would honour the pact?” hissed Xolec.
“Yes, I’m just playing for time,” I whispered to Dain. “Just testing the water, seeing if Xolec will reveal anything by accident.” Dain’s mouth twitched; my friend said nothing, but his doubts were only too evident. (**)
I raised my visor, I shook my head. “You already know we cannot do that Xolec. Not without some sign you truly have the knowledge we seek. You do not command us. Not now, not ever.”
“So brave, so righteous!” Words spat from the darkness. “So valiant but too craven to approach! What worth is your faith paladin? How weak is your piety cleric? You claim to serve, you claim the protection and favour of your deities, yet you do still do not dare test your might like honourable warriors! Cowards find any excuse for their actions; yet cowards still have to face themselves and know they gave way to fear!”
A brutish enemy only attempts to destroy our bodies; the truly truly dangerous seek to savage our minds. These taunts stung, I cannot deny that; I wanted to charge out and silence this lying tongue, I wanted to end these words which writhed like worms from an open grave. I heard stalwart Dain muttering beside me, and his angry snort.
“Does running away protect these poor folk around you?” Xolec stepped forward one pace, then hissed as his outstretched hand began to blister in that blessed sunlight. “That young girl was the best meal I’ve tasted in centuries. She begged for mercy at first, she screamed for a saviour who did not come; she died weeping in the dark, abandoned and alone! If you save your own skins now who else is going to die in your stead? Pitiful paladin, corrupt cleric! Faithful? No fainthearted, forsworn, forsaken, false and mean!”
(*) “What! In the dark, in this crypt and lying on rat bones? Takes all sorts but that’s very bleedin’ kinky!” exclaimed Buddynock Rubyrubb.
(The sun and moon will both fall from the sky before our Gnomish Druid stops making jokes.)
(**) “Great Durin preserve us all from any daufi Paladins who HAVE to accept any challenge!” muttered Dain, his sturdy legs braced, his fighting axe ready.
“Daufi?” I asked Buddynock Rubyrubb much later.
My Gnomsh friend shuffled his feet. “It’s err fiord Dwarvish for someone lacking … err … common sense.”
I grinned: “Or the wits to step out of the rain? That’s quite polite for any Dwarvish cleric under severe stress!”
5
I know the tenets of my Order. I know my duty, I know my duty well. Any paladin who wilfully stands aside falls from grace perhaps forever. All Paladins are bound by their Oath. If there had been some innocent trapped in that foul place, I would have held my ground for as long as my strength endured, my life paying forfeit to grant any helpless victim even a faint hope of escape.
But there was no one to save, no one to sacrifice my life for and I also had a duty to protect my comrades and preserve myself for future challenges. Dread Tharizdun, Lord of Chaos was our quest. It is always so easy and expedient to rationalise away any shameful deed, but no, in this I know I am right. Vainglory is mere self-serving pride; a fight chosen wilfully for the blind joy in shedding blood; and only vicious Ares, hated by Gods and men alike favours such deeds. My lady Athene demands far more; for her, true courage means standing firm whenever the moment calls, but this is valour tempered by reason, considered and calm. Wisdom is knowing the time for immediate action and the time to wait.
Wisdom is rarely easy. Yes, Xolec’s words stung like a manticore’s spines, yes, I would sleep badly this night and I would sleep badly every future night I recalled this moment. Yet at least I would sleep and rise again and face other dangers whenever great need called, and one day, far in the future if the time came and the fates were kind, I would smite even a vampire lord, lifeless to the earth.
“You cannot leave this site in daylight or dark,” said wise Dain. “If you could, you would already. There would be deaths every night, your lair would be guarded by charmed minions or vampire spawn. You have no power to leave Xolec the Prisoner, you can only kill anyone unlucky enough to enter your domain. “
“Yeah, and gnaw on rats!” piped up Buddynock. “Which counts as really mean since rats are highly intelligent with pronounced problem-solving capabilities and rudimentary social structures and clan formation. Bet you are so dumb you even eat the green wobbly bit!”
“You will stay safe here Xolec until we find time to destroy you. That is the only release you will ever receive from us.” Two eyes red as hellfire stared out of the darkness, unflinching, soulless, utterly devoid of pity. “The Watch will ward and guard this place. No one else will ever die here again Xolec. No mortal at least.”
The vampire spoke once more and now his words lacked any attempt at guile or persuasion. “Saltmarsh is doomed and doomed soon. This town will fall, this town will burn, your lives will soon be forfeit for your folly. You need me to defend this place, you need my might to turn back the horrors. I take one mortal at a time, I drink my fill and sleep once more. The real foes coming to Saltmarsh will not leave two bricks standing; they will not leave one creature alive amid the ruins. Without me you will all perish. I shall be watching and waiting. You will call on me when the time comes. You will have to!”
“Has he gone now?” said Halduamina.
“Back into the crypt, yes.” I replied.
“And that is all quite true, you’re sure?” asked our Rogue.
“If this Xolec could leave he surely would. Every night to hunt for prey. People only use this warehouse in daylight usually,” said Dain. “Yes, I know you once said, ‘logic only means you can be wrong with authority,’ but logically, if this vampire could actually prowl after dark he already would. Elliander Fireborn is gruff but no fool, the man would know if anyone else was disappearing.”
“But can we trust Elliander?” said Halduamina. “How well do we know him?”
“I know at least he is no vampire spawn.” I said firmly. “I would sense that, I promise you.”
“This place was used for years by fishers and sailors for years, decades even” said Halduamina.
“It’s certainly decrepit enough!” sniffed Buddynock.
“I wonder if any presumed lost at sea never actually left the shore,” said Halduamina.
“Dark places and deep waters,” muttered Dain and I saw our Dwarvish comrade shudder despite himself.
“So, we warn the Council, have guards posted, alert the neighbourhood and Dain and I cast ceremony spells to create Holy Water,” I said briskly. “Remember there’s still that alchemist’s ghost to face as well.”
I do not blame Halduamina for sighing! I felt the same myself. At least our Gnomish Druid was recovering from the ordeal. “I just know that rat molester looked like a right Varney to me!” Buddynock Rubyrubb’s hair still stood on end, the strap on his bronze goggles was stretched to bursting. “Aw Wilson did the nasty pointy toothed glaring Undead bastard take a swipe at you too!”
For all his Gnomish flights of fantasy little Buddynock Rubyrubb is no one’s fool. My long-nosed friend usually sees far more than he likes to reveal. Buddynock knocked on my door late that night and for once he was not smiling. “Just to make it as clear as a dragon’s dangly bits, we’d much rather have you alive and annoying and absolutely clueless about fun and hi-jinks than lying dead in that terrible place. We’d much rather have you alive and annoying and absolutely clueless about fun and hi-jinks, but making sure to the best of your ability that we’re safe and protected and also not getting arrested on totally exaggerated charges … once again!” Buddynock paused. “Just so that’s clear!”
There are times when comrades talk earnestly, revealing their inmost thoughts and fears. There are times, but they are mercifully few. It’s far far easier just to canter past certain subjects and simply set up my chessboard once again instead. Well, why not, few of us are courageous in everything, our lives are marked by recurring timidity too. (*)
My room at ‘The Wicker Goat” was simple but snug enough, especially after Dain and Buddynock both cast find trap spells and Halduamina made his own careful checks to ensure our quarters were secure.
(*) Any game of chess I ever play with Buddynock soon means blithe accusations of blatant cheating.
From both of us!
6
The Council of Saltmarsh did not relish being summoned twice within ten days, and they appreciated our news even less. I sometimes wonder how the wealthy first make their money but there is little doubt just how they retain it. Gellan Primewater smiled and tutted and expressed such fulsome concerns, but would he foot the bill for guarding that fatal warehouse? Only after young Anders Solmer volunteered first, and ensured a dozen chosen Watchmen would stand sentry night and day to prevent any waif or sailor, drunkard or daredevil from entering the building ever again. Or maybe the Council of Saltmarsh feared more than merely opening their coffers, for the warehouse owner soon proved worthy of her name. Granchio the Limpet did not react kindly when she learnt all income from her tenants was suspended. She would have stormed the actual Council chamber without Skerrin the Butler valiantly holding the door. Even so, we could still hear Granchio from the street. The Limpet was only placated when every Councillor guaranteed full reimbursement of all rents while her warehouse stood empty.
Only foolish knights simply lower their lances and charge. Better to spy out the ground first. It is natural to turn to a wizard for knowledge of the past, yet Keledek the Unspoken of Ket provided no assistance at all. Nearly seven feet tall and thin as a rail, the wizard of Saltmarsh rarely ever left his tower. Keledek was seen occasionally striding through the town, red imp familiar on his shoulder but the man simply stared impassively if anyone ever dared to address him. We heard the same story as everyone, Keledek the Unspoken was close to Gellan Primewater, but the nature of their bond was far from certain.
Some allies are unforeseen but no less useful. We learnt about Xolec the Unholy from a far less likely source. Gruff Elliander Fireborn owned a small house overlooking the southernmost point of Saltmarsh, a neat and orderly residence, with old armour hung ready on a stand and a battered helm and crest kept in honour above the fireplace. Few Watch Captains have much time for anything outside their regular duties, but Elliander’s library was surely the finest in all Saltmarsh, a treasure trove of heavy tomes detailing the history all along the Keoland coast. Xolec the Unholy was indeed recorded in three chronicles, though his fate had always been a mystery. A younger son of noble lineage spurned in love and with more money than sense, a dabbler in the dark arts, who vanished without trace two centuries ago. We could certainly add something to those archives now, but I doubt any of his descendants would be pleased.
Keledek the Unspoken of Ket, Wizard of Saltmarsh.
His tower remains the only point in all the town where a real defence could be offered.
Even Elliander’s library offered no hint to where the portal to Blind Tharizdun could have opened. Unless the abandoned abbey of Skolos held some clue. “Procan alone knows what those priests were doing out there,” Elliander grunted. “The buildings were burnt long ago, when the Pirate Lords were out raiding.”
“But someone could be living there now?” Dain Rocksmiter’s eyebrows bristled with excitement. Our Dwarven friend is a veritable hound of Orion whenever he scents a new trail.
“Hardly,” grunted Elliander. “The abbey was left open to the sky, the island is near barren. Just sand and waving sea grass and watching for the next enemy sails looming out of the murk.”
“Why do we rarely meet any cheerful buggers?” Halduamina whispered down to Buddynock.
“Why are there no temples devoted to happy sing songs, booze and a bit of boisterous slap and tickle,” nodded Buddynock. “Yes, saving the world from an undead demon god apocalypse is important but I’d like to think there’s still a room for one night off at least. What’s that? Oh yes. I know. “Sshhh!”
“We still need Saltmarsh as our base just now.” I was glad to see Dain nodding as I spoke. “What threatens Saltmarsh threats us and these smugglers hauling such weapons does not bode well.”
“Not to mention their crafty wizard Sanbalet might hold some answers of his own,” said Dain.
“So, I suppose we’re all along for the ride again,” smiled Halduamina. His hands brushed the hilt of his enchanted rapier and long dagger “I certainly cannot complain about the pickings.”
“Well, I’m here to add heart and merry hijinks!” beamed Buddynock. “Though admittedly only marginally family friendly!”
“Anders Solmer will arrange the boat,” grunted Elliander. “You only need a small vessel for such a short journey. Four of my Watchmen will accompany you.”
“Hand-picked?” asked Halduamina.
“The very best I have,” said Elliander Fireborn, but I caught Dain’s eye and knew he was thinking the same. The edge in Elliander’s voice suggested less confidence than he admitted.
I appreciated the logic. In a bustling fishing port, travellers have more chance of slipping away unseen by ship than on foot through the guarded landward gates. Even so, I still sighed as I donned my studded brigandine. Leather armour may be lighter on a paladin’s back but far heavier on his heart! I was glad Dain Rocksmiter could wear his enchanted mariner’s armour but from my grumbling my friend still sighed for his dwarf wrought full plate. In any case we had another pressing reason to retrace our steps. That vengeful ghost still walked abroad and who could say this cold spirit would not follow us to Saltmarsh. Better to seek out and destroy this phantom than simply wait for its attack, and we could not leave it free to slay any unwary wanderers blundering into that crumbling mansion. Some we bought, some we blessed with our own ceremony spells, but we carried eleven vials of Holy Water between us as we sailed back to lay that ghost. (*)
(*) “Do you have to give Buddynock Rubyrubb such opportunity for comments?” said plaintive Dain.
7
The tide was fair, the wind proved kind. Our voyage to the derelict mansion only lasted a few hours, but I still summoned gallant Boreas as a hippocampus again. Dain and Buddynock cast their most potent spells upon us all and I took heart knowing we could walk upon the waves and breathe underwater, yet I was still relieved to see lithe Boreas swimming beneath our stern, his wise eyes alert for dangers. We moored at the sea cave and rowed a jolly boat to the beach. Our keel boat would stand off and wait for our signal. The Sea Ghost was expected in two days’ time, but only fools ever take chances to the sea. Their padded gambesons were clean and their steel kettle hats were burnished; their spears were free from rust and they seemed alert I suppose. All the same, these four Saltmarsh Watchmen all wore a hangdog expression I did not care for. They completed all tasks, I give them that, but without eagerness or speed; they worked while they were watched but they worked far slower whenever we went below. Even their sergeant seemed unwilling.
“These are the picked pride of Saltmarsh?” Halduamina tried to smile. “I just wish their brothers had been on market patrol when I was trying a few schemes way back last year.”
We knew the ground, that was a blessing, but we still walked warily though those dank tunnels and dust choaked rooms, alert for any dripping green slime or surging rot grubs. We had enough time to make ready, we our careful plan.
Alas some strategies still fail. The spectral alchemist manifested once more, but this time both Dain and I were warded by protection from evil spells; this spirit could neither possess nor scare us. Buddynock and Halduamina sheltered behind; our Druid’s moonbeam spell transfixed the vengeful ghost in a column of silver radiance; its shimmering mouth gaped wide in a soundless scream. Now we attacked in earnest, hurling vials of holy water without pause to breathe. I leapt forward with my enchanted mace; holy Lightbringer passed clean through the phantom, and yes, the ghost already seemed less dense, more transparent. Victory? Yes, victory surely! Yet then with a supreme effort the spirit broke free of Buddynock’s spell, keen-eyed Halduamina hurled our last flask of holy water, it hit, the ghost convulsed in agony, but still flowed through the wall behind and escaped.
Dead he may be, but the obsessed alchemist of Saltmarsh still walks.
We came so close to defeating the phantom once and for all. That was regrettable but we had no time free to ponder. Buddynock Rubyrubb returned to the upper room with the collapsing floor. Once again, our Gnomish comrade inched forward onto those worm-eaten joists, but this time with a rope lashed tight around his waist. Buddynock reached the window safely and lit the lantern. We had no reason to regret those long hours spent interrogating our prisoners; we had their signal code, we had it all beyond doubt, for each charmed smuggler had said the same. Our ambush was set, we would draw our quarry closer. Little Buddynock opened and closed the lantern shutter as directed. We saw nothing, just a moonless sky and a restless sea, but then a yellow light shone in answer, far higher than we expected; I suppose sent from the very top of their tallest mast. Buddynock doused his light and tiptoed towards me. We raced for the cellar and those tunnels and the sea cave. The trap was sprung, the game afoot!
Beyond the sea cave lay the secret beach. Boreas lurked below the dark water, the jolly boat with Elliander’s four Watchmen swung at the end of her painter. We had a canvas propped on poles already in the boat, to mimic a full load of contraband already on board. We all knew the plan.
The walking on water spell seems so simple yet I still become dizzy any time I forget and look down between my feet. The first time I stared … by the Furies, I almost fancied myself to be flying when I saw shoals of small fish darting beneath me! Those moments I did take to the air at far off Thundertree seem so long ago now. At least I still had my leather arming cap.
Our four Watchmen made a show of lighting a dark lantern and pushing off from the shore, their progress was slow and with no shortage of splashes, well that was only to be expected from any small and laden boat. We had to trust the smugglers on Sea Ghost had no prior suspicions, we had to hope they saw nothing untoward as that jolly boat slowly made way.
We were walking wide of the vessel, well beyond any lantern light, working our way around her stern. The water was calm, that was indeed a blessing and we only turned towards Sea Ghost from the seaward side. Halduamina’s keen eyes picked out movement from the crow’s nest, but the occupant was concentrating solely on the shore. The last twenty feet posed the greatest risk, then the wooden stern was looming above us and we were pressed against the salt crusted strakes. At least the rounded hull concealed us from anyone aboard.
“Any open ports?” I hissed.
Noble Boreas appears to enjoy being summoned in hippocampus form.
I have my adapted marine saddle and after much trial and effort I feel I have mastered
riding my celestial steed at sea, yet I cannot honestly claim I feel any sense of ease!
“Two,” said Halduamina. “Five foot above at least. And small as a Kobolds’ privy!”
I turned to our shapeshifting Druid. “Can you reach them?”
Buddynock sucked his teeth. “I can climb through them but no one else.”
“Too risky,” I replied, and the others nodded, though Dain Rocksmiter still stared down at the sea beneath us. “Little chance of you hiding even in animal form and if you get caught, you’re either dead or a hostage. We’d be too far away for any rescue.” (*)
Buddynock could shapeshift and scale that wooden hull, nimble Halduamina was also confident of making that climb. They were lucky! Dain Rocksmiter and I would both need help to reach the main deck safely. Once we would have waited for our comrades to lower a rope. Once we would. Ever since we held our weapons within the magic green flame of Phandelver both Dain and I had been granted a boon. Our weapons were already enchanted, and their new powers did not fade. Dain’s rune axe, peevish Grom, shouts advice during any skirmish or battle. My trusty blade Talon was blessed a different way. Did the dying flame of Phandelver take inspiration from a hilt shaped like the outflung wings of a swooping hawk? I cannot say for certain but once my sword had passed through the eldritch green fire, I was able to cast a Levitate spell once every day!
(*) From Dain’s muttering and fixed expression, I was not the only person feeling acutely uneasy at all the water directly beneath our feet.
Our Dwarvish comrade was muttering something to himself: “No that is not a fin. No, it’s not. It looks like a fin, but it is not. Or a mouth, a yawning mouth with gaping teeth! It’s dark, how could it find us? No don’t answer that. There is nothing underneath us rising to the surface! There is NOTHING just below and rising to the surface!” (**)
(**) Imagination is not always our friend. I will only admit to sharing the same thoughts as stalwart Dain. Standing on one leg could not have made us remotely any safer, but I was still fighting the serious urge to try!
Were we both imagining this? YES!
Was this entirely unreasonable and far-fetched?
At this precise moment, by every Dog including fearful Cerberos, NO!”
8
“You never said that before!” exclaimed Halduamina.
Had I truly failed to mention this to my comrades, no, surely, I had, I must have. Soon after we first made the discovery. “It never came up,” I replied.
“And neither did we!” said Buddynock Rubyrubb.
“Well, we never needed to,” I said quickly. “Levitate allows me to rise twenty feet into the air. Nothing fancy. I can only go straight up, I have to push against a wall or ceiling to move along. And I sink slowly down to the ground again after ten minutes.”
“Only go up? Only go up!” Buddynock’s goggles were fogged with emotion. “What about that hungry gelatinous cube in the Svaarstag sewers? Do you not think levitation might just have been handy then?”
“There was no space, the roof was only a few feet overhead.” I said with some feeling.
“Easy for you to say!” Our Gnomish Druid insisted. “Very easy! You weren’t pushed back into that mankey culvert! Took sixteen bars of soap to get the last whiffs out me smalls! Poor Dain still feels loathe to go to the bar whenever it’s his round and not just because his wallet opens even less frequently than a semi suspect sacred temple virgin!”
“Are you done?” grunted Dain. “Whichever way we do this, let’s just go!”
Druid Rubyrubb assumed red squirrel form and scampered up the hull. Nimble Halduamina pressed flat to the strakes and climbed with graceful ease, his long rapier hanging down below. I gripped the hilt of Talon, I repeated the incantation, for a moment nothing seemed to happen and then my boots were plucked from the wave kissed water. I rose with steady speed, one hand flat against the ship and grateful Dain hanging onto my belt with limpet determination. (*)
We grasped the main deck bulwarks, our eyes level with the rail. Four or five smugglers stood on the stern castle, there were three more in the raised bows. Six stood in the waist of the ship with a bellows voiced bosun, preparing to swing out a tackle and line as the jolly boat approached.
Buddynock Rubyrubb shifted to rat form, paused, sniffed the air and ran for the companionway, hugging the shadows and freezing still whenever one of these mariners glanced his way. Moments seemed like hours as our brave Druid prowled the ship. Wooden casks and bales already filled the hold, cabins with locked doors barred his entrance. Our Druid was pressing his luck, but Buddynock was not yet ready to turn back. Another grating led to the bilges. Buddynock the Rat rubbed his quivering nose with both paws; the stench was abominable.
He peered through the wooden bars; filthy water lapped the curving timbers, mounds of refuse lay decaying in the dark. Buddynock suddenly glimpsed the gleam of gold, only a handful of coins, if that, but there was definitely gold down there in the fetid water. For a moment Buddynock hesitated but our canny Druid was far too wise to take unnecessary risks. Waiting his moment, gauging each open space, corridor and companionway for safety, Buddynock the Rat scampered back safely to join us at the rail.
(*) “They can’t jump too high, they simply can’t!” Dain could almost have been intoning a prayer! “Even if they are big they have to stay in water, surely, they do. And anything with a long neck would be hunting out to sea! Obviously!”
9
We exchanged glances, nodded and climbed onto the main deck. Our luck was holding, our moment had come. Halduamina’s sleep spell left the three smugglers on the forecastle helpless and snoring; just as Dain’s wind wall felled the seven men already on the main deck, Buddynock’s swift moonbeam slew the staggering bosun. I charged forward sword and shield raised and ready.
A long arrow splintered against the deck as the careless bowman in the crows’ nest nocked and loosed. One bulky figure bellowed orders from the stern, we heard a flurry of movement and a bolt of lightning sped from a robed man standing near the wheel; Dain Rocksmiter avoided the worst, but our comrade was still hit by enough of the charge to leave his helm, shield and scale armour flickering. Gallant Dain bellowed in pain, he summoned a glittering bolt spell only to see a familiar robed figure counter his magic in mid-air. That damned sea wizard Sanbalet was also up there on the poop!
I cut down two smugglers who tried to seize me; for a moment the main deck was ours, but we heard running feet and a further seven smugglers poured up the companionway. Halduamina was hit by two arrows but managed to secure the sleeping smugglers on the foredeck. Buddynock swung his glimmering moonbeam onto the stern castle, but crafty Sanbalet again countered the magic. The unknown sea wizard raised his hands again and this time the lightning bolt hit Dain with full force. hurling our dwarven comrade to the deck. Dain Rocksmiter was back on his feet in an instant, but we could hear our poor friend gasping in pain.
I slew another smuggler, but another seized my waist, I thanked wise Pallas for my own magic; a command spell instantly had me free and I left the smuggler lying in his own blood. Buddynock plucked Wilson from his bag of holding, the little automaton landed on the deck with a squeal from his wheels as our Druid called upon our foes to surrender.
The smugglers merely laughed in our faces. Halduamina was injured another arrow; I was hurt too now, by the Dog I sorely missed my plate armour, but poor Dain could never survive another lightning bolt and I could not fight my way to his side. I cast another command spell, a burly smuggler let go of my waist and I clubbed him down with Talon’s hilt. Dain cast a second wall of wind spell, aiming directly at the stern but once again Sanbalet countered his magic even as our cleric spoke the final words.
This unknown sea wizard was even more potent than Sanbalet!
Dawn was near, the sky was lighter; that fearsome wizard at the stern stood stark against the sky as he raised his hands again. Poor Dain waited defiantly on the main deck, his beard singed, his armour glowing, his shield and axe still crowned with sparks; our friend was doomed, the next lightning bolt would hurl him from this life. I was trading sword cuts with the captain now, even as his surviving crew tried to pull me down to the deck. He was more skilled than most, something I soon learnt to my cost; my shield and leather brigandine availed me little when I had to fight just to keep my feet. If Dain fell, I would surely soon lie beside him.
Shining light sped from the mage’s splayed fingers, Dain Rocksmiter reeled back but our friend endured! By the Dog we should have remembered! All magics are limited; adventurers are not alone in cursing the natural limits to their powers! This sea wizard was reduced to casting mere Witch Bolts! Halduamina dashed down from the bows, thrusting a healing potion into Dain’s hands. Our Cleric’s last glittering bolt struck home, we heard a hoarse scream from the raised poop deck as this sea wizard finally felt our power, his body outlined in shimmering light. I again called on our foes to surrender, but again the smugglers howled in our faces. Where was that damned boat of Saltmarsh watchmen, what in Hades were they doing?
I was slipping in my own blood now, but I drove that fearsome captain back along the deck, even his chain shirt was no match for Talon. At the other rail Halduamina and Dain stood shoulder to shoulder as the last smugglers stood at bay. Wilson skittered around the deck loosing force bolts; Buddynock’s final moonbeam spell swept across the stern castle and both sea wizards fell lifeless by the wheel. Two heads appeared at the port rail, at last, at long last our tardy watchman had deigned to join us! The wounded Captain and his three wounded smugglers threw down their hatchets and cutlasses. Three more prisoners still snored in the bows. Seven out of nineteen; it was a pity our Saltmarsh Watchmen never showed such courage!
The day was done, the day was ours, but we had won by the width of a sword blade. Brave Dain was on the very brink of death, Halduamina bore three arrows through his studded jerkin, my own blood pooled beneath me onto the deck. We never needed Dain’s Prayer of Healing more and I still had to call on my own powers to restore us all to full health. Once those tardy Watchmen secured our prisoners, we finally explored Sea Ghost.
Our Druid’s charm spell worked its magic, and one very obedient sailor led the way. Below decks were the expected medley of ship’s stores, sailcloth and cordage, most in decent order, though the galley could have poisoned a blind Grimlock! I certainly would not touch any of that salt pork and hard tack without casting a purification spell first, on both the provisions and every single pewter bowl, and plate. We also found a scrimmage of hammocks and sea chests, spare clothes, sundry personal belongings and indisputable evidence that Sea Ghost’s bosun was corresponding on intimate and athletic terms with three women each in a separate port. Buddynock Rubyrubb retrieved a remarkably friendly blue feathered parrot who repeatedly and loudly informed us his name was Cupa.
Our smuggler then showed us to a door near the bows. Careful Halduamina risked a peek through the keyhole only to see a cold reptilian eye gazing back! Before we could act, before we could speak, our charmed sailor was so eager to please he swung the door wide open. The cabin was small, with curving walls and a wooden table bolted into place. Three hammocks swayed from the deckhead, we saw woven reed paniers stacked neatly on a sea chest. Two joints of meat hung above our heads, and after one glance I chose to look away.
They stared at us even more impassively than golems. Three lizardfolk, each six foot high, thick limbed and hard muscled, their scales iridescent, and emerald-green, lighter on their taut bellies, and regular as riveted mail. All standing upright, balanced by short, thick tails jutting like levelled lances straight behind them. Their rippling forearms were tipped with curved claws, but each held a heavy stone headed axe, or spear, and one bore a polished shield shaped from the shell of some giant turtle. Their baleful yellow eyes never blinked. Long tongues flicked along their lipless jaws, then one square maw yawned wide and we glimpsed serried rows of jagged fangs. At first glance each looked identical, but one had a single dorsal crest of yellow and orange running from skull to shoulders, while the other lizardfolk bore parallel smaller plumes down to the nape of their necks. Each wore a short leather kilt, each was bedecked with belts and cross straps, each was hung with leather pouches from hip to waist. (*)
Heavy stone headed weapons are primitive, but these lizardfolk clearly had the strength to wield them. I had grave doubts these talking reptiles ever bought much meat.
“It changes according to the background!” grinned Halduamina.
10
We heard a low sibilant hiss, then guttural snapping barks. The largest lizard was speaking! I remembered Dread Venomfang of Thundertree. Was this also the Draconic tongue? Dain Rocksmiter raised one hand in greeting, the creatures paused, glanced at each other and stumbled out some halting words in Common.
“You take ship? You kill meat?”
“We seized stolen goods,” said Dain. “We have orders.”
“A good fight? Plenty blood? Plenty meat?”
“They were brave,” said Dain. “We spare all we can.”
The lizardfolk blinked with contempt. “We have orders too. You warm blood, you listen. You listen good. Our box. There. You watch. There. Our box. We take. We take soon.” The sea chest lay open. We glimpsed weapons lying in straw: spiked morningstars and long swords, bundles of javelins and rounded shields. All polished steel, all heavily weighted, enough for at least a score of warriors. Each of the ten shields was plain as an unmarked page, but the topmost was emblazoned with a lizard’s head with long forked tongue extended.
I heard Halduamina questioning our charmed captive and this mesmerized smuggler was only too eager to speak. “The Scalies? Passengers for this trip only. Three Scalies and one box of tricks. No questions, no time on deck.” Two lizardfolk hissed, the third licked both its eyes with a long curving tongue. I suspected they had not heard the word “scalies” before. I was certain they were definitely less than pleased.
At least one person present was far too happy to care. “Look!” Buddynock Rubyrubb has rarely ever sounded more delighted. “Look there. They’ve a Pseudodragon familiar!” A creature, red-brown in colour slowly uncoiled and stared at us. A dragon the size of a small cat, its delicate face alive with curiosity, its tiny wings folded neatly along its back. We heard a plaintive purring noise and one of the lizardfolk called out “Bimz, Bimz.” The tiny creature leapt with careful grace and nestled gratefully on a green scaled shoulder, rubbing its dainty head against the lizard’s face.
“Am I imagining things or is this Pseudodragon speaking inside my head?” asked Halduamina.
Dain Rocksmiter and Buddynock both answered simultaneously. “Telepathy!”
“So they know Common?” whispered our Half Elf Rogue.
“And they purr too!” beamed our enraptured Druid. “I always say Wilson can’t have too many special friends!”
“Quite delightful,” I muttered but is that merely a claw at the end of his tail?”
“We
have official sanction to take this ship,” I said earnestly. “You
will not be harmed or insulted but I ask you to respect all persons
aboard just as they shall respect you. We do not seek conflict, but
we will defend ourselves if required. I hope we understand each
other.”
The largest of these lizard folk fixed his steely gaze on my face. He blinked once and hissed. Did his slow nod mean what I thought? We could only hope.
“And all prisoners are under our protection. All of them. Every … ‘warm blood.’” Yes, careful Dain Rocksmiter was determined to leave nothing unspoken or uncertain.
Our search of the ship continued. Halduamina’s skill with traps was invaluable again, aided by his spectral Mage Hand, our careful Rogue disarmed chests with envenomed needles in the lock and chests which launched poisoned darts when they were opened. The box with the swinging scythe blade was certainly more than I expected and that poor Mage Hand was practically cleft in two! We found a vial of antitoxin, a brace of healing potions and two battered books. One covered legal niceties on the high seas, the other offered advice on plotting a course when far from land. That embossed astrolabe on the cover was most appropriate.
“Is it difficult to follow principles of navigation?” said curious Halduamina.
“Only if you have no moral compass,” said deadpan Dain Rocksmiter. Oh, by merry Thalia I savour our comrade’s straight-faced jokes! I only wish he made more.
The next tome we found was definitely of value to our foes: the spell book of that late unlamented sea wizard Punketah. We could make out seven enchantments, some even more potent than any wily Sanbalet had possessed. The illustrations adjoining the lightning bolt spell left poor Dain gritting his teeth. I never expected we would ever possess the spell books of two wizards. We could not use this magic ourselves, but this knowledge had clear value even so.
We found ten electrum ingots and silver tableware. Another locked chest released a cloud of noxious gas, but at least we found a full purse of gold coins and a scroll with the Gust of Wind spell written upon it. One document created a whole new conundrum, a palimpsest much used, erased and rewritten, the marsh reed pages were cracked and covered with mould. The actual script was clear enough but sprawling, every letter shaped with effort and care, but many were still written back to front. It appeared to offer thanks for goods delivered while requesting further supplies.
“If this is from the lizardfolk what can we assume?” said Dain Rocksmiter. “More weapons.”
“Unless its Pseudodragons!” Buddynock’s brass goggles were misted with excitement again. “Oooh there could be a crate of little Pseudodragons down here just waiting to be rescued! All of them purring!”
Alas for all fond Gnomish hopes the contents of Sea Ghost’s hold proved far more prosaic. Eighty casks of brandy and fine wine, at least according to the labels. Three had been already tapped by crafty sailors, could that explain both the carelessness of their watch and ferocity in battle? We also found fifty bolts of fine silk, all carefully wrapped and an iron bound chest of superbly crafted dwarvish mining tools. Dain’s eyes were gleaming with pride as he hefted their weight. “Maybe even Manistrad Copperlocks will be smiling when she knows this consignment has been recovered.”
The only other weapons were a mystery. Each of them had an elvish look, but they were still like nothing I had ever studied before. A long delicate trident, the tangs curving with all the grace of a crashing wave, a dagger set with coral in the hilt and a crossbow smashed beyond repair. The bronzed steel limbs were curiously stubby and the flight groove for the bolt was set far deeper in the barrel than usual, the former owner clearly did not want any missile falling out before a shot.
Only the bilges were left, and they reeked so badly, I almost thought we were back in the Svarstaag sewers. They clearly ran the full length of Sea Ghost and our two Drift globes set the shadows dancing as we peered through the open hatch. All ships carry ballast, most use stones or even iron ingots but the lazy smugglers of Sea Ghost had merely shovelled sand deep into their hold. All ships leak and this sand was submerged in green, greasy water with piles of slimy detritus breaking the surface. This crew had casually dropped all manner of filth and waste down here anytime they did not trouble to go on deck.
“I saw something gleaming on my rat reconnaissance.” Buddynock lowered his voice. “Definitely. But no, I didn’t jump down to investigate.”
“Very wise!” agreed Dain and patted our Druid’s shoulder so carefully a stranger would have thought the touch mere accidental. Well, a stranger might. We knew far better.
Halduamina sent his spectral mage hand down into the bilge, he recovered a handful of gold coins and discovered precisely what we had feared. By the Dog, our Druid can be most determined when he chooses! Buddynock covered every inch of Sea Ghost’s bilge with a moonbeam spell before he was satisfied. A single tiny rot grub can eat any victim alive, let one rot grub burrow under the skin and it devours any prey from within. Some deaths are too terrible even for demons. (*)
(*) Druid Rubyrubb maintains a very clear definition of “unnatural” creatures and “using your arteries as main street is a definite no no!” Buddynock sighed with relief. “If I ever get tired of this quest to save the world lark, I can also set up in business as ‘Moonbeam Fumigations Inc.’ Satisfaction guaranteed!”
11
We thought we had uncovered all that Sea Ghost held, we thought so, but we have never been more mistaken. “I have never been so grateful for my charm spell,” Buddynock Rubyrubb told me afterwards. “I cannot bear to think of the consequences otherwise.” For Sea Ghost held one final secret and without that enchanted smuggler we never would have found poor Aemo in time. The sliding door was well hidden, the chamber behind was barely two feet wide. Two bright eyes dared back at us defiantly, but this prisoner was clearly near the end of his strength, his sea blue skin had a greyish pallor and a few pannikins of brackish ship’s water had done little to ease his thirst. Some creatures may breathe both air and water, but the ocean is still their natural dwelling place. I doubt this prisoner could have endured one more day in this wooden tomb.
Aemo Ruaardir of the Tribe of Manaan was still chained when we found him in the dark, but Halduamina’s thieves’ tools made light work of the lock. The Sea Elf drank like some desert wanderer far from any oasis and his webbed fingers trembled as he lifted clean water to his lips. His voice was deeper than I expected, with echoes that seemed uncanny at least to me, but his grey eyes were steady now he finally realised he was saved. His long green hair hung down to his shoulders but did not hide the gills either side of his neck.
His marine crossbow was broken beyond repair, but at least we could return his trident and long knife and the two gold arm rings stolen by the captain. And thanks to Halduamina Half Elven we could converse. To the rest of us Aemo Ruarrdir’s speech sounded more like a cheery dolphin.
His gills flickered as he spoke, fluttering like tiny wings. Aemo Ruaardir did not rush his words, they flowed with measured calm, all chosen with care and ringing like stones dropped into the depths. “My people left the Sea of Fallen Stars long lifetimes ago. Tides beyond counting have risen and fell ever since. My clan have learnt to prosper again since the calamity, we farm and hunt and thrive, or at least we did.”
“Thrived until?” Halduamina asked gently.
“I believe you Walkers call them Sea Devils.” Aemo Ruaardir’s voice was calm, yet his eyes were suddenly cold as a winter sea. “They are Sahuagin to us. Oh, you too then, at least if your head bobs mean what I think. Sharks swim where they choose, that is their right and need; they share the sea with all. Sahuagin have their place too, down in the depths and the darkness, realms cold as death and demon haunted. Sahuagin make war on all; they hunt from blood lust, they eat what they can but slay more just for sport. Like the Locathah and Tritons, even those vicious Koalinth we remain above, up there in the sun kissed waters, we swim where there is life abundant, where flowers grow and the coral blooms. Yet we all live always knowing the Sahuagin lurk beneath us, we tend our lands always aware we must maintain our watch.”
“And the Sea Devils, these Sahuagin have risen?” said Halduamina. “In numbers you never imagined, and struggle to endure?”
Aemo Ruaardir hesitated then tried a tentative nod. “These are not mere raiding parties, they hope to drive us from our homes! Those they do not devour first!”
“Please tell … Aemo Ruaardir we face this struggle too,” I said to Halduamina. “Not as fiercely, not as desperately, but these Sahuagin mark no difference when they attack.”
Our new friend was only fully restored by a joyful plunge back beneath the waves but given chance to rest and find true sustenance Aemo related the remainer of his story. His Clan had observed the stealthy passage of Sea Ghost, his Chieftain had ordered young Aemo to keep watch and report. Our friend observed weapons being loaded, he saw those three suspicious lizardfolk quietly taking passage from an isolated cove. Bold Aemo slipped aboard Sea Ghost after dark to investigate further only to be overcome by sleeping gas when he tried opening a chest.
“I awoke where you found me, fettered and bound. I was only still alive because they thought I had information,” said Aemo Ruaardir and again, only his grey eyes betrayed any emotion. “Without you I should have perished like a beached whale left to rot on the strand. I give you my thanks and my loyalty; my arms are at your service should you call.”
“I … we that is … would be honoured and pleased if you wish to join us,” I began. “It may well be we all follow the same quest.”
“Though we begin from different points,” smiled Aemo. “Those butchers slew my mount for sheer sport, I am too far to return home safely without her. I will stay if you will have me. And maybe together we will find our answers and our victory!"
Druid Buddynock can cast his charm spell twelve times a day if he chooses. Even so, we still took no chances on our homeward voyage. Those seven prisoners had no more fight left in them, but we set three of the Watchmen guarding our captives all the same. The small keelboat still had enough crew to keep us company and our return to Saltmarsh proved uneventful save for the enormous fin that broke surface astern. It kept pace with Sea Ghost for hours, never dropping back, never drawing closer. I ordered noble Boreas to keep his distance and it was as well young Aemo Ruaardir had not chanced his long swim home alone. “Just how big do sharks grow,” Dain whispered to me. “And is it still quite safe to go down into the hold?”
All three lizardfolk kept to their cabin; still calm, still impassive, their only concern the safety of that crate of arms and shields. All the same, we locked our cabin doors each night and when the lizardfolk requested my presence I did not go alone. Once again, only the tallest lizardfolk spoke, the others simply stared with unblinking eyes. The only note of cheer was that sinuous Pseudodragon playfully chasing the evening moths. I have met stubborn minds before, but nothing to match these lizardfolk. Our speech was not a conversation, we simply exchanged statements, with no pretence at persuasion or diplomacy.
“You soft skin. We go. We go now. Little wood like half egg. We take, we take now!”
These lizardfolk were adamant. Night was near and we warned them of that giant shark, but their minds were set and our words availed nothing. Our three passengers took Sea Ghost’s jolly boat as they insisted. That heavy chest of weapons left them low in the water, but they would not return even so; we could not have compelled them to stay without drawing blood. We last saw them paddling towards the shore, to the marshland lurking in the dusk. I sent Boreas after them, at a good distance, but even my celestial steed could not be certain they reached the shore safely.
At least the Council of Saltmarsh would surely be glad at our return, unless … unless any of those worthies knew far more about this smuggling than we supposed. Money so easily corrupts anyone. Criminals so easily interpret one success as a guarantee Lady Nemesis will never come to find them. These smugglers were organised and shipping more than mere mercantile goods; they were organised and clearly followed set plans. We were surely seeking more than simple sailors.
“Sea Ghost is a trading cog,” said Dain Rocksmiter. “Eda Oweland only operates fishing vessels but both Gellan and Anders have trading fleets.”
“Anders Solmer seems genuine to me,” I began.
“And Gellan Primewater wears that monocle,” added Halduamima.
“Style like that! He definitely can’t be all bad,” said Buddynock Rubyrubb.
“Both Anders and Gellan run trading fleets,” said Dain. “Surely each could find enough hard-bitten sailors for one single smuggling vessel, especially if they plucked bad apples and malcontents from all their other crews.”
“And those deck wizards,” grinned Buddynock. “Poor Sparky Longshot and his caving chum.”
Dain gave our Druid a certain look. Poor innocent Aemo Ruaardir smiled in confusion.
“I just wonder how they first encountered those lizard folks,” said Halduamina. “I thought they rarely ever left their fens. I still wonder if they actually reached land again. And all because they were desperate for steel forged weapons.”
Dain nodded. “It must mean something if lizardfolk no longer trust their stone spears.”
“They might look cold-blooded but they’re certainly a bit forward these lizard folks,” smiled Buddynock. “For starters, what if they were not all blokes?”
Dain Rocksmiter sighed and ran his hand through his singed beard. “I know I shall regret asking this but … and your reason is?”
“Well think about it,” beamed Buddynock. “They all wore kilts and belts and straps downstairs was covered but what of topsides? Very very bold if any were lady lizards!”
Our Cleric appeared to be calling on his God to send strength. “Lizard folk are reptiles. Yes?”
“Yup.” Buddynock nodded.
“Reptiles!”
“Well yes!”
“So why in the name of Freyja’s six cats and Sif’s golden hair would ‘lady’ lizards need ‘topside’ clothing too?”
“Oh cloaca!” grinned Buddynock, with a wink. Was our cunning Druid teasing all along?
“He’s getting better you know,” I whispered to Dain. “No really! It’s been months since Buddynock last insisted any tall adversaries are really three halflings on each other’s shoulders all draped in a long cloak.”
BEING an END to BOOK XIV
We found one magic scroll bearing a Druidic gust of wind spell and this we naturally passed to Buddynock .
Dain Rocksmiter and Halduamina each received a healing potion.
The merchants and miners of Saltmarsh awarded us 700 gold pieces for recovering the smuggled goods and we found sundry items worth a further 419 gold pieces aboard Sea Ghost.
We now possessed the spell books of two dead wizards and much to our surprise we were now masters by default of a sailing ship!
We lacked crew, we lacked nautical skill and knowledge, but we had the Sea Ghost.
And a Forest Druid who owned a Captain’s hat and two parrots.
Aemo Ruaardir was invigorated by swimming in the bay, the colour returned to his skin. He still felt unable to risk the long journey home with no faithful steed to speed his passage and our new aquatic friend asked to remain in our company for the time being. At least while we remained near the sea.
Notes: I
Spell book of Punketah
Level 1
Fog Cloud
Witch Bolt
Level 2
Gust of Wind
Misty Step
Level 3
Counterspell
Fly
Lightning Bolt
Spell book of Sanbalet
Level 1
Charm Person
Magic Missile
Level 2
Scorching Ray
Level 3
Counterspell
Gaseous Form
Glyph of Warding
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