Pathfinder Tales: Skinwalkers

by Wendy N. Wagner

  In the light of the lantern, the black strand revealed itself as a long string of braided leather, the kind used for necklaces. A bit of black soapstone hung from it. She touched the edges. Sharp, recently broken.

  She dug the tip of her knife around the stake hole, feeling it scratch against something stony. She wished she could reach inside, but the opening was too small for her fingers. She twisted and turned the knife, feeling something balance on its blade. She eased it up.

  It was the rest of the soapstone charm. The ground must have been soft when the stake was dug in it. The charm had stayed surprisingly intact, except for the break at the bored hole where the cord had run through. Even without holding it in the lantern's light, she would have known that shape: a crow, with its wings outstretched. The traveler's good luck charm.

  She turned it over and gasped. A tiny pair of fiery orange eyes winked up at her. She brought the lantern closer, wondering at the play of the light on the miniature orange jewels. Fire opals.

  Her heart skipped over itself. Her first trip out to sea, she'd visited a market where an old woman sold charms worked with beautiful jewels. Jendara had bought her sister Kalira one of the soapstone crows, one with fire opals for eyes, and the girl had loved it.

  Jendara's fingers closed tightly over the figurine.

  Someone had been here, on Flintyreach, wearing this soapstone crow. Someone, possibly the impaled man, struggling with his attackers, had broken the cord and the necklace had fallen to ground, only to be smashed by the butt end of the impaling stake. Then the necklace's broken bits had been pushed down into the ground, protected by the rain-softened soil.

  She sat back on her heels and hugged her knees to her chest, puzzling over the clues. The killers here at Alstone Quarry had killed and eaten their victims and had even impaled one—just like the attackers who'd destroyed her village and impaled her father. But here at Alstone Quarry, no one seemed to be missing. When Jendara had gone through her own village, there had been many bodies unaccounted for in Crow's Nest, including her sister's. Otherwise, the attacks were painfully similar. Was it a coincidence, finding this necklace here? Here, where the victims has been mutilated in just the same fashion as those of Crow's Nest?

  Jendara tried to throttle a faint feeling of hope, but it kept fluttering inside her chest. Maybe she would finally be able to revenge her family's destruction.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Jendara gave up driving and walked beside the mule the last half mile of the journey home. She needed to move, to get out of her head and into her body. There was just too much filling her memory, too much horror in the past. Walking beside the mule, which kept biting at her arm, kept her mind occupied.

  After what felt like hours, they passed out of the spruce forest. Jendara stood still a moment, enjoying the wind whipping off the ocean. The salt spray smelled clean, the air fresh. A few fishing boats bobbed in the harbor, heading out toward deeper water.

  "Jendara!"

  Jendara started. She hadn't even noticed Fambra standing at the tree line, a bucket in hand. Jendara gave a half-hearted wave. "What are you doing up so early?" she asked.

  Fambra raised her bucket. "Collecting spruce pitch. Handy for sealing birch buckets and oilcloth jackets." She closed the distance. "Sven's shoulder is feeling better, so he and Rowri took the boat out this morning by themselves for an early crabbing run. They ought to be back any minute. And you?"

  Jendara nodded back at the wagon. "Getting some of Boruc's things. He's coming with us to Sorind, you know. To be with his family."

  "I'll miss him." The freckled woman studied Jendara's face closely. "Was it hard? I don't know if I could have gone. Those people...well, what was done to them was an abomination."

  "Yes." Jendara felt a sudden burning in her palm and realized she'd been squeezing the soapstone crow so tightly its wings were biting into her flesh. She shook out her hand, frowning at the red welts across her calluses.

  Fambra held out her hand. "What's that you've found?"

  Jendara closed her hand quickly, then relented and held the pendant out to Fambra. "Something I found at the quarry."

  Fambra turned it over. "It looks like a traveler's pendant, but these gems are really amazing."

  Jendara nodded.

  Fambra looked more closely. "And it's not new. If you look at the back side, it's clearly darker, as if it's picked up oils from its wearer's skin. Soapstone's fairly absorbent, but that still takes years of constant wearing."

  Jendara stroked the mule's nose, wondering if she ought to tell Fambra just what the necklace meant to her. She bit her lip.

  Fambra watched her, curious. "I know we don't know each other very well," she said, "but I'm a good listener." She held out the necklace.

  Jendara took it and held it up to the sun for a second. "I don't mind telling you. This necklace—I gave my sister a necklace like this. Same gems and everything. But my sister disappeared almost fifteen years ago."

  Fambra put down her bucket. "And you think it's the same necklace?"

  "How could it not be? Fambra, my sister disappeared when our village was wiped out by people—or things—that cooked and ate at least four of their victims. And my father was impaled, just like one of the men up at the quarry."

  "That doesn't sound like coincidence." Fambra's eyebrows drew themselves together as she mulled over Jendara's story. "Did you ever figure out what happened to your family?"

  "I suspected the Kalvamen immediately. After all, they're known cannibals. It's not common for them to leave their island, but it happened in stories."

  Fambra picked up her bucket and waved for Jendara to follow her. "So what did you do?"

  "I was working on the Milady at that point. Not yet married, but close to the captain. We sailed for Kalva and even made an expedition into one of their villages. I never saw signs of my sister, but the Kalvamen drove us off the island. I wish I could have at least found her killer."

  "You're sure it was humans, and not a creature?" Fambra reached for the mule's reins and tied them off at her own garden fence.

  "I found a man's hand." Jendara's face twisted, remembering the hand her father's axe had pinned to the wall. "An ordinary man's hand, but I can't believe ordinary men could become so savage. No, the men of Kalva are my best guess."

  Fambra made a quizzical face. "No one's even seen a Kalvaman in generations. Did you see any ships? Can't pillage without ships."

  Jendara jammed the crow necklace back in her belt pouch. "No. But they could have hidden them. The island's riddled with caves."

  Fambra raised her palm high. "Just asking." She opened the garden gate and held it for Jendara. "What about the creature you shot out on the causeway? That didn't sound like a Kalvaman."

  Jendara shook her head. "I don't know. I thought it was a man when it was running, but then it looked like a bear. Vorrin said it was." She sighed. "I can't ignore the evidence I've seen. We're not dealing with some stupid troll or an animal. I don't know what did this. But—" she broke off, glancing out to the open sea beyond Flintyreach's harbor. She lowered her voice. "But I do know one thing: I'm not sure that creature was dead when it hit the water. My shot was good, but it could have missed the heart."

  One hand on her door's latch, Fambra stopped. "I don't like the sound of that."

  "Me, neither. If I were you, I'd sleep with my belt knife under my pillow and all the shutters latched."

  "I already do," Fambra said, with a wry smile.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Jendara waved goodbye to Fambra and Wilfric and the rest of the villagers who had come to see the Milady off. It was a surprisingly large group to say goodbye to a bunch of strangers. The thought made Jendara wave harder.

  "Nice folks," Vorrin said.

  Jendara looked over at him. He gave the group at the docks another casual wave before turning back to inspect the ship.

  "Everything looks shipshape," he mused. "Even if we hit bad weather, we should be just fine."


  Jendara watched the figures diminish to doll-size. "Are you expecting bad weather?" She hadn't noticed any clouds on the horizon, and the ocean looked flat.

  "At the rate we're going? On our way home from the mainland, we're definitely going to see serious weather. Real, nasty, wintry weather."

  She turned to face him. "It's not that bad, is it?" She grinned, keeping her voice light.

  Vorrin gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, while you and my brother were out enjoying a pirate's life, I was doing this. Running cargo and travelers around all the west coast. So yes, I think I know what the weather will be like off the coast of Varisia at the end of autumn."

  She had never heard him speak so coldly of Ikran. Her eyes narrowed. "It wasn't just fun and games, Vorrin. We risked our lives every day."

  "You risked your lives attacking ships like this one," he snapped. "Now you're trying to make yourself feel better by leading a decent life. That doesn't mean you have to go out of your way to solve everybody else's problems."

  She took a step backward, her hand balling into an automatic fist. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Vorrin winced. "I didn't mean to say it like that. It's just...ever since we came to these islands, you've been really focused on helping other people. Like when you first met Yul and fought those goblins. You didn't have to get involved in that."

  "They took Kran," she spat.

  "You still stayed to fight after we got him back, but okay—bad example. But back there at the quarry? You didn't have to go on that hunt. Look at Boruc. His leg is going to take months to heal. That could have happened to you or me. Don't you care about us?"

  "We can handle ourselves." She spun on her heel and began to march across the deck. "Or at least I can."

  Jendara slumped onto the deck rail, glaring at the sea. She rubbed the back of her hand, feeling the black ink of her tattoo standing out from her skin. It always responded to her anger. When she'd been a pirate, praying to Besmara before every battle, she'd reveled in the sensation of the jolly roger rising, flaring like her bad temper. But now...ever since Kran had been born...

  She stopped rubbing the tattoo and gripped the deck rail. It had gotten easier to control her anger, but that didn't mean it wasn't still work.

  A hand touched her shoulder. She glanced up at Vorrin, rage and shame filling her in equal measure.

  "I'm sorry," he said.

  And just like that, the rage was gone. "I'm sorry too," she blurted.

  "Look," he said, "I grew up on the wharves of Kintargo. It wasn't exactly a tight community. You people have got something special here on these islands, something I don't quite understand. But I can see it's worth fighting for."

  "Thanks," she said, and looked back at the sea. They were almost out of the harbor now. Any minute Vorrin would order the crew to raise sails for full speed, and they'd be winging their way to Sorind. But if they swung around just a bit to the west, they could make Crow's Nest this afternoon.

  She opened her belt pouch and pulled out the crow pendant. "I know I've been really focused on this quarry business. And yes, it's because what happened reminds me so much of what happened to my family. If you could have seen the village..." She trailed off. After seeing the massacre at the quarry, she had no doubt Vorrin could imagine what the pillaged village had looked like.

  "I'm sorry," he said again.

  "It's not your fault." She held up the pendant. "There's more." She pointed out the unusual fire opal eyes and explained about the pendant she'd purchased for Kalira.

  Vorrin raised his eyebrows. "You think whoever committed the murders at the quarry are the same people who killed your father and sister?"

  "Yes. The way the bodies showed signs of being eaten, the impalement of a single victim, and now this necklace—I don't have any doubts that it's the same group of people. Or creatures," she added, remembering the strange hairy thing she had shot on the causeway. There were plenty of creatures in the world capable of organizing brutal attacks on small settlements.

  "When you put it like that, I see your point. But...you're working to put your past behind you, Dara. You cut all your old pirate ties, except for a few of the old crew members like Tam and Glayn. You don't even worship Besmara anymore. You've got an all-new life. Chasing these...things down isn't going to bring your family back."

  Jendara's hand fell to the axe in her belt. It felt heavy today, its weight digging into her hip. She squeezed its handle.

  "I killed Ikran's killer for revenge," she said. "I tried to track down my family's murderer for the same reason, but I failed. You're right that I'm trying to put that part of me aside. I don't want to feel that raging fiend inside my veins, the one who so gladly made offerings to Besmara and rejoiced in violence. This isn't about revenge anymore." She caught Vorrin's eyes and held them. "This is about stopping these things before they hurt anyone else."

  Vorrin stared. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "All right. That makes sense."

  "Now if only we knew how to find them."

  They both fell silent as the cabin boy hurried by with the ship's spyglass clutched close to his chest. It was kept safely stowed belowdecks while the Milady was in harbor, but the navigator would need it to make it safely to Sorind. Jendara glanced up at the helm. Tam stood at the wheel. Like Jendara, he'd grown up in the Ironbound Archipelago. He knew the area so well he didn't need any calculations or reckoning to find his way around.

  Jendara's eyes widened. Navigation was all about connecting two points. Maybe she could navigate her way through this mystery. "What if there's a connection between the two islands that we're just not seeing? If we can figure out that connection, maybe we can figure out what's motivating the killers and figure out what they'll do next."

  "It's worth a shot," he agreed.

  "Then we need to go to Crow's Nest. If there are any clues, we'll find them there."

  The sails crackled as they caught wind, and the sea ahead sparkled in the late morning sunshine. Jendara felt the surge of excitement that always hit her when her ship got the wind in its teeth. She could never get bored of the taste of sea salt at high speed.

  As quickly as the surge of hope had come, a dark cloud moved over the sun, sending the deck of the Milady into gloom. Jendara scowled up at it. Then her mouth fell open.

  It was no cloud. Crows filled the sky—dozens, maybe hundreds. They moved across the sun like a cloud pushed by gale winds, bunched so close together their black wings blotted out the light.

  "An ill tiding," Tam murmured, reaching for the lines of the main mast, ready to reef in the sails. Ready for a storm, even if it was just a storm of birds.

  "Tam! Don't touch those sails," Vorrin growled. "It's just a bunch of migrating crows. They're heading someplace cozy for the winter, that's all."

  Tam leaned over to reach Jendara's ear. He was a tall man, even for an islander. "Doesn't the captain know birds fly south for the winter?"

  Jendara didn't answer. She watched the birds pass across the sun, headed north.

  The same direction as the Milady.

  paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas , Aug 10, 2014

  Chapter Eight

  Homecoming

  Milady approached the island of Crow's Nest from the southeast. Jendara pointed out the massive rocks lying off the coast. "On a spring tide," she explained to Vorrin, "you can actually see them. On an ordinary day? They're waiting just below the surface."

  They gave the rocks a wide berth, circling around the north shore of the island and finally dropping anchor a few yards off a deep, sandy cove. Old pilings still stood nearby, their tops given over to bird nests and their sides stained and battered. Jendara nodded at them.

  "My father put in a pier, but it must have washed away. It was hard work, getting those pilings put in. He brought in a crew of half-orc divers from Flintyreach." She spoke rapidly, eyes roving every surface, absorbing the changes and alterations of the space.

  Vorrin and Tam lowere
d the dinghy, and Tam held it steady for Jendara and Vorrin to clamber inside. Vorrin grabbed an oar and shoved off from the ship.

  "How'd the island get the name ‘Crow's Nest'?" he asked.

  "My sister." Jendara pointed at the rocky knoll above the shore. A grove of skeletal spruce sprang up from what looked like bare rock, their trunks streaked and stained with bird guano. A cormorant circled over the grove and landed on a branch, adding its own white streak to the tree. "A migrating cormorant colony lies over in the summer, building nests and raising a general ruckus." She let out a little laugh. "When we first came over to the island—about a year after my mother died—Kalira was still pretty little, and she was just learning to talk. She called every bird a crow. She started calling the rock a crow's nest, and I guess it just stuck, what with the crow being our clan totem."

  "That's a sweet story," Vorrin said.

  "My father certainly thought so. He told it often enough."

  Vorrin jumped out to help tug the boat up onto the shore. "What was your father like?"

  She tied the towline to a stunted spruce struggling to grow at the edge of the sandy cove. "He was a great hunter. A raider who used diplomacy and trade to get more than he could have ever taken in a pitched battle. An amazing sailor."

  "Okay," Vorrin said, "but what was he like?"

  Jendara looked up from her mooring knot to see Vorrin studying her. She could feel the color rising in her cheeks. She took a deep breath and let the air out slowly.

  "Look, he's not an easy person to talk about. He was a good leader, good enough that he could have been a king, and a lot of people thought he should have tried. But then my mother died, and he changed. He just wanted to settle down—raise goats and catch fish." She brushed back a strand of hair that had escaped her braid. "Everybody thought I should have turned out just like him."

  Vorrin swatted her shoulder. "Well, you are a pretty good hunter. Not as good as me, but you know, who is?"

  She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "So, here's the path. It's going to go about a quarter of a mile before we hit the village."