Snared: Voyage on the Eversteel Sea

by Adam Jay Epstein

  As the sky began to change colors with the coming of the sun, Wily heard a low hum. The sound was similar to the noise the rot flies would make when they swarmed in circles around the leftover meat decomposing on the cave floor. Only this noise was much louder, and getting louder with every second. Wily looked around to see what was responsible for the sound. Just then, he saw something whoosh overhead and land on his back. Before he could turn, he felt a sharp poke on his neck and a flash of intense pain.

  “Ow!”

  He turned to see a mosquito the size of a hummingbird perched on his shoulder. Its needle-like sucker was stuck deep into his flesh, slurping out blood.

  “Get it off me!” Wily screamed, putting an end to everybody’s slumber.

  Righteous was the first to react. The arm shot forth, grabbed the bug in its ghostly fist, and tugged it free. Wily winced as the long poker was drawn from his skin.

  “There’s one on me too,” Odette shouted. Wily turned to see that not one, but two had landed on Odette and were prodding her for a drink of blood.

  “These horrid bugs want to suck us dry,” Kestrel said.

  “They don’t seem interested in me,” Roveeka said as one of the bloodsuckers flew right by her. “It must be my tough hobgoblet skin.”

  “Or maybe,” Odette said as she tumbled in the sand to rid her back of the pests, “your blood tastes like mold juice.”

  “Can’t be,” Roveeka said. “If that were the case, I bet every single one of them would want to eat me.”

  Moshul batted the mosquitoes away from Pryvyd and Odette with the back of his muddy hand as they continued to swarm around the companions.

  “Travelers from the mainland,” an elegant voice rang out from the trees, “welcome to the Isle of Delight!”

  Moments later, an entire party of beings was standing before them. It was impossible to tell what species they were because they were shrouded in layers of thin netting from the tops of their heads all the way down to their feet. It reminded Wily of the few times in Carrion Tomb when the residents dressed in bedsheets for the festival of Glothmurk and Wily could not tell who was who.

  “Gaskar,” the leader of the group continued with a gentle lilt, “shoo the vectrites away.”

  One of the shrouded locals placed a candle in the sand and lit it with a piece of flint stick. A thick cloud of pungent vapor rose from the smoking candle. The vectrites quickly scattered.

  “They are vicious little bugs,” the cloaked leader said.

  “Not so little actually,” Odette said.

  “What good fortune brings you here?” he continued.

  “Our ship was struck by a turtle dragon and sprang a leak,” Wily said, pointing to the grounded vessel. “This island was the nearest piece of land.”

  “Oh, so you had an encounter with Prickleback,” the voice replied from beneath the netting. “You’re not the first. She’s a very curious turtle dragon. Not a particularly cross gal, but she’ll toss a ship just to watch the sailors scramble.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Roveeka spoke up, “why are you wearing that net over your head?”

  “To keep the vectrites away,” the net-covered native said. “They can’t get their suckers through the mesh. In the afternoon, they’re pretty aggressive.”

  “Worse than the morning?” Pryvyd said, scratching a rapidly growing welt that was expanding at the bite point on his shoulder.

  “That will be an itchy one,” the netted leader said as he pulled the thin fabric up from his feet to above his head. “But as the philosophers say, the only true comfort is found in the mind.”

  Wily was shocked by what he saw underneath the net: webbed hands, spikes down the arms, and a head that resembled a fish’s. This eloquent islander was an oglodyte.

  “You’re an oglodyte?” Wily asked more as a statement than a question.

  “And you’re very observant,” the oglodyte said. “Why does it shock you so?”

  Wily explained how the two oglodytes he knew best, Sceely and Agorop, were both dim-witted, unpleasant buffoons.

  “I see,” the oglodyte said. “Well, I’m happy to say that we’re not all alike. My name’s Jayrus. Of the Hammock oglodytes.”

  “You really are very different,” Wily said.

  “I am so embarrassed that those two are representing our kind poorly,” Jayrus said. He then looked to the vessel. “Can I send my friends over to inspect the damage to your boat?”

  A pair of the netted oglodytes stepped forward. Wily led them down to the edge of the water, where they proceeded to examine the ship. They surveyed the damage caused by Prickleback (although it was hard to imagine how they could see anything at all through the layers of white mesh).

  “It’s quite bad,” one of Jayrus’s companions said as she ran her hidden hand over the outside of the boat.

  “Rotten indeed,” another oglodyte concurred. “You won’t be making it far with a hole like this.”

  “We need wood to patch it up,” Kestrel said, lifting his hands so that the vines binding his wrists were visible. Jayrus looked over at the makeshift cuff suspiciously. Kestrel explained it away with a simple explanation. “I did something I shouldn’t have done.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Jayrus responded. “Now about that wood. I’m afraid all the trees were cut down this past spring. But we have plenty of nets back at the camp. You can live with us until the trees grow back. It shouldn’t be more than thirty years or so.”

  “That’s a very kind offer,” Wily said. “But we plan on leaving here as soon as we can and continuing on our journey. We need to return to Panthasos.”

  “Why would you want to go back there?” Jayrus replied. “Last time someone stopped by from the mainland we heard it was being ruled by a truly horrible king wearing a helmet with three points.”

  Wily quickly turned to Kestrel, waiting to see his response. His father did not flinch at the description. Instead he spoke quite calmly. “It had been. But things have changed. Now it is ruled by kind people who would never cause harm to others. Unless a new evil mage takes over.”

  “Yes, well,” Jayrus seemed to consider. “It sounds like a pretty mixed-up place, if you ask me. Glad I’m here and not there.”

  “We just need a few planks of wood,” Wily said. “Perhaps you have some spare pieces we could have.”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Jayrus said as he lowered the netting over his body again. “All the wood was used to build the ship moored in the hidden lagoon. We didn’t need any of the wood ourselves so we let him have it.”

  “Wait … wait,” Odette spoke up. “Did you say there is an already-built ship?”

  “Yes,” Jayrus said. “One large enough to sail a hundred across the deepest sea.”

  “We don’t need to repair our boat,” Odette said. “We would be happy to borrow the hidden ship in the lagoon.”

  “It doesn’t belong to us,” Jayrus explained slowly, as if speaking to a child, which in fact he was. “The ship is the property of the Recluself. He’s a bit of a loner and doesn’t associate with others.”

  “Tell us more about this Recluself,” Kestrel said.

  “He was the former engineer for the Brine Baron,” Jayrus said. “During one of their sea journeys, he drank a little too much nectar and fell off his master’s ship. He washed ashore many years ago, and our tribe rescued him. He was not a big fan of the vectrites, just like you are not. So he locked himself away in the caves with the scatbats, which have a real taste for the vectrites.”

  “And he built a boat?” Wily asked.

  “As the former engineer of the Brine Baron,” Jayrus explained, “he was quite good at putting things together on his own. In the years he has been down there, he has constructed the most beautiful vessel. And it is just sitting there, waiting to be sailed.”

  “Then why hasn’t he left?” Odette asked.

  “Don’t know for sure,” Jayrus replied. “And we haven’t really asked. He doesn’t like
visitors. Thinks we might drag in vectrite eggs. He’s locked up the place very tightly. Only once or twice have oglodytes been able to sneak in for a peek.”

  “Locked up the place with traps?” Kestrel asked.

  “Very tough ones,” Jayrus remarked. “Very hard to get past them.”

  “I think we have that covered,” Roveeka said as she turned to both Wily and his father. “Doubly so.”

  Wily looked at his father skeptically as he used his knuckles to scratch the ever-expanding bump on his shoulder.

  “Please point us in the direction of the Recluself’s cave,” Pryvyd said.

  “Of course,” Jayrus said. “But I think you might want some nets before you go anywhere.”

  13

  THE RECLUSELF

  Wily felt as ridiculous as he looked. A wooden ring sat on his head with a dozen layers of thin netting hanging down from it. It felt like he was wearing a set of curtains. Fortunately, the mesh was thin enough that his vision wasn’t completely clouded, but it did give everything in front of him a thick, milky glow. His human, hobgoblet, and elf companions also wore the vectrite-protective netting as they pushed through the jungle. It was lucky that Moshul didn’t have blood to suck, because there was not enough netting in all of Hammock Town to cover his gigantic body. Even Pryvyd was too tall for the single nets they typically used. The helpful oglodytes had quickly sewn on an extra few inches of fabric so that the vectrites couldn’t make a meal of his ankles.

  Jayrus was whistling happily as he led the group toward the rocky peninsula that was home to the Recluself’s cave. They had been walking for the better part of an hour, passing through small creeks teeming with bugs, and prickly underbrush even more dense with insects. Wily had spent much of that time explaining to Jayrus and the other Hammock oglodytes what had happened to them since they left the royal palace eight days earlier. He also told them of all the horrible things Stalag had done in the past, but thought it best not to mention who Kestrel was.

  Wily felt a boot kick in the calf from behind.

  “My apologies, Roveeka,” Pryvyd said. “Didn’t mean to kick you. A bit hard to see where I am going.”

  “No problem,” Roveeka said. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

  “That’s because he kicked me,” Wily said.

  “Whoops,” Pryvyd replied. “Guess it’s hard to see who’s who as well.”

  Wily heard a loud thump followed by a noise that reminded him of mushrooms being squashed in a press. He turned to see Moshul in a panic. He was pointing to his leg and waving to the others.

  Looking down, Wily spied a small tentacled creature clinging to Moshul’s leg. It had big blue eyes like a gristle puppy and a happy expression on its face.

  Help! Moshul signed.

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Pryvyd said. “Just relax. Shouldn’t take more than a moment, big guy.”

  “Oh,” Jayrus said. “Lucky you! The hugtopus brings good luck.”

  Moshul was shaking his head.

  “He’s terrified of things with tentacles,” Odette said. “He just wants it off.”

  “Easy enough.” Jayrus said. “You’ll just have to kill it.”

  Wily eyed the super cute creature. Moshul did too as he trembled.

  “It’s the only way,” the oglodyte continued. “They only let go when they want to. Otherwise you need to stab it in the head with something sharp.”

  The hugtopus looked pleadingly up at Moshul.

  Fine, the moss golem signed. I will wait. Don’t kill it.

  “No worries,” Jayrus said. “The longest they cling to you is a mere two or three years.”

  Moshul’s jeweled eyes looked ready to cry.

  “That’s it,” Jayrus called out, pointing a shrouded hand at a large wooden door that looked particularly out of place in the stone wall that seemed to have sprouted from the jungle floor.

  “I’m guessing it’s locked,” Odette said. “And it doesn’t even look like it has a keyhole.”

  “It’s bolted from the inside,” Jayrus said. “As I mentioned, the Recluself doesn’t come out much.”

  Wily looked to see that the stone hinges of the door were buried deep in the rock wall.

  “Even if I had my screwdriver or arrowtusk lock picks,” Wily said, “it would do little to help break in through this door.”

  “With a mechanical winch,” Kestrel said, “we could pry it open.”

  “Luckily, we have something better,” Pryvyd said. “We have a golem.”

  Pryvyd began signing to Moshul, who nodded and stepped up to the door. Moshul clenched his mud fist and punched the door. Despite the intense force, the door held fast, barely sustaining a dent.

  “That’s not how I thought this would go,” Pryvyd said. “Try again.”

  Moshul swung even harder. This time the door splintered but still remained taut on its hinges. Wily saw out of the corner of his eye that Kestrel, hands still tied, had wandered off. He was approaching a portion of the stone wall that jutted out slightly from the rest of the surface.

  “You, moss golem,” Kestrel said. “Use your fist over here.”

  Moshul looked to Odette for approval. He signed, Should I?

  Odette’s netting shook up and down. “If you can’t tell, I am nodding right now,” Odette said. “Go ahead.”

  “One hard hit should do the trick,” Kestrel said, pointing to a fracture point in the rock.

  Moshul struck the spot with the side of his fist. A thin slab of rock cracked off the wall and slid to the ground. The chunk nearly fell on the hugtopus, which was still wrapped tightly around Moshul’s leg.

  “What good is that going to do?” Odette asked impatiently.

  “I think I know what Kestrel is thinking,” Wily said with a glimmer of hope. “Slide the tip of the stone into the gap between the bottom of the door and the ground. If a door has been hung on rock hinges, then it can also be lifted off them. Moshul, press down on the exposed portion of the rock.”

  Moshul smashed his foot down on the stone just as Wily had instructed. Like a fulcrum and lever, the other side of the rock moved upward, putting force on the bottom of the door. Sure enough, the door was lifted up and off its hinges. With a mighty crash, it fell forward toward the group, slamming into the ground.

  “That’s not good!” Odette said with a groan, looking past the toppled wooden door.

  Wily followed her line of sight to see that just beyond was yet another wooden door seemingly just as thick.

  “This guy really doesn’t like his bugs,” Odette said.

  “I don’t blame him,” Wily said, swatting a vectrite by his head.

  Moshul tossed the fallen door behind them and picked up the stone slab. He repeated the very same trick and dislodged the next door from its hinges too. Fortunately, there were no further doors that they could see.

  “Thank you for the nets and guiding us here,” Wily said to Jayrus and the other Hammock oglodytes.

  “We’re not going to let you go in there alone,” Jayrus said. “We plan on helping you until you no longer need our assistance. We’re oglodytes. We gaberflimp. That’s what we do for each other. That’s what we’ll do for you.”

  “Gaberflimp?” Roveeka said.

  “Ah yes,” Jayrus explained. “We have thirty-two words that mean ‘help.’ Gaberflimp means ‘to give assistance with no expectation of a favor in return.’”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Odette said. “That’s what you have in common with mainland oglodytes.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jayrus said.

  “You have no idea,” Wily said.

  Jayrus and the other oglodytes took the rear as Wily and his companions entered the mouth of the cave. Inside, it was quite dark; only the few rays of sun from the outside kept it from being pitch-black. Wily was unimpressed. Even the most inhospitable dungeons should be lit properly. How else could invaders have a fair chance against traps? It was clear that the Recluself was not familiar with proper
dungeon etiquette. Clearly, he had no desire for anyone to make it even this far.

  As they continued inside, Wily discovered that there was more than just oglodytes following them. A persistent swarm of vectrites, still determined to get their lunch, buzzed circles around the netted heads of Odette and Wily. Wily was about to ask Jayrus to pull out one of the scented candles when he heard a loud whoosh, followed by a screech. Something large and black went flapping overhead. It was a giant bat. Wily ducked as the creature soared overhead again. But the winged rodent wasn’t coming for them. Instead it was getting a meal of its own. The vectrites that had been overhead were gone. In the dark, Wily could hear the sound of the bats crunching on insects.

  “You can have your hugtopus. I want to keep one of those as a pet,” Roveeka said, “with their cute beady eyes and pointy teeth. So snuggable.”

  Through the dim, Wily could see the bat, which had broken vectrite legs and suckers sticking out of its blood-covered mouth. The bat was not cute at all, in his opinion, but he was certainly glad the bats were there.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Kestrel said, taking the lead, the tunnel getting darker with every step.

  Pryvyd asked Moshul to release his fireflies to light the way, but the moss golem refused, afraid that the insects might be an easy snack for the cloud of bats flapping overhead. Without the fireflies, the group had to continue on in near darkness as the stone cave sloped downward. As they progressed deeper, Wily thought he could hear a waterfall nearby. In fact, the water sounded very close. Too close.

  TWANG-CLICK. Wily knew that sound. A foot accidentally triggering a trapdoor. The stone floor opened beneath Kestrel’s feet, sending him falling into a swirling whirlpool. Wily’s father was churned in circles by the swift-moving water. Before he was sucked down into the hole at the center of the whirlpool, Kestrel reached out with his bound hands, grabbing hold of the ledge between the stone floor and the hanging trapdoor. His trembling fingers were the only thing keeping the rapidly rushing water from sweeping him into the eye of the whirlpool.