The Dungeoneers: Blackfog Island

by Jeffery Russell

  “No idea,” the elf said. “But I know a thing or two that might come in handy and was given a fair bit of leeway in determining how to dispense operational funding…”

  “Funding?” Samona asked.

  “Well, yes,” Catchpenny said. “They didn’t just point and shove me out the door. The contract came with discretionary funding. And that little bell, of course.”

  “Who hired you?” Thud asked. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here all the way from Song.”

  “A sinister figure in the shadows,” the elf answered, dejected. “Always a minion, never a minioneer.”

  “Hmph,” Thud said. “Well, up to you Samona. Long as our deal still stands we’re good. Mebbe you can stick him on your crew and have him swab the decks there and back.”

  “Well, it be keeping the Singers off me back seems to me, so, well enough for the time. Plus it’ll keep him where we can see him.”

  Catchpenny brightened. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “The plan be for you to start swabbing. Skulk here will set you up with a bucket and mop.”

  “Hrmmm.” The elf produced several gold Eagles from his belt pouch, making them spin across his fingers as he proffered them. “How about if I’m a paying customer rather than a working crew-member?”

  “Fine. Least you’ll not be putting poor Ween out of the swabbie post.”

  “What do I need to know about this lost cargo?” Thud asked.

  “It were a chest,” Samona said. “A big bastard of one. Stood near tall as the elf, there, locked tight with chains and paddies, bound in iron. Heavy enough that it took four men to carry. Strict instructions to not open the thing under any circumstances.”

  “That’s about as much as I know too,” Catchpenny said in response to Thud’s arched eyebrow.

  “Ye’ve been a big help, so far,” Thud said. He turned to Ruby. “Any idea what they might ‘ave gotten hold of?”

  Ruby looked to have filled several pages so far with the events of the meeting. “A heavy artifact that fits in a chest that the Obeahmon priests may have recently recovered and that might be of interest to the Singers?”

  “Aye.”

  “Nope,” she said.

  “You’re sure you know where to find Blackfog Island?” Thud asked Samona.

  “Both the where and the when.”

  “I’d like to know a little more about me sailing companion,” Thud said, giving Catchpenny a hard look. He was still embarrassed by the ease with which the elf had inserted itself into the group. “What do you do when you’re not extorting your way onto expeditions?”

  “Oh, you know,” the elf said with a vague hand wave. “I help out, here and there, where there’s work. I have many skills.”

  Thud snorted. “So, you’re a dock-rat?”

  “I prefer independent opportunist.”

  “And I prefer that me coins stay in me purse. We square on that?”

  “Of course! We’re partners now! Never steal from partners.”

  “I wouldna go so far as to say that. The bit about being partners. All for the not stealin from ‘em part. Them coins you gave Samona. They come out of my pocket?”

  “Certainly not. They came out of someone else’s pocket entirely.”

  “Them the sort of thing or two that you’re referrin' to as far as yer skills? Picking pockets? Locks? Pryin' windows?”

  “Surely those are the sort of skills that someone in your line of work can see the usefulness of?”

  “Oh, aye, but I got dwarves that can do that already.”

  “Not like I can!” the elf said. “I’m the best thief in Stilton.”

  “Are ya now,” Samona said. “You’d think I mighta heard your name before. Odd name for an elf.”

  “Earned name, naturally,” Catchpenny said. “The fact that you haven’t heard of me should clue you in as to just how good I am. If you hear a thief’s name it means they’ve been caught.”

  “Patched elbows,” Mungo suddenly piped up. “Unkempt hair, boots with a hole in the toe. I’m curious to see how Stilton’s second best thief dresses.”

  “Looking wealthy is step one on Stilton’s ‘How to get Robbed’ list,” Catchpenny said.

  “The person who hired you,” Thud said. “Where did you meet?”

  “Different inn up the street. Sign had a painting on it of a sad man carrying a stick and wearing a robe.”

  “When was this?”

  “Yesterday.” The elf looked morose. “I rather feel I’ve botched this.”

  “Depends on what yer aim was,” Thud said. “You’re gonna be on the boat which is likely more'n I’d ‘ave granted ya, so now I’m deciding if it’ll be on the deck or in a locked trunk. Personally, I’d toss ya o'er the side. Mungo, go brief Ping and Dadger. We need to invent some new logistics for this and the sooner we get started the better.”

  Mungo bowed himself out and scurried away.

  “Dwarf?” Samona said, once Mungo was gone.

  “Bit daft in the head,” Thud said. “We humor him on account o' his usefulness and cheery-type nature.”

  The elf seemed to find something about that amusing enough that he wasn’t able to entirely suppress his chuckle.

  Thud’s lip curled. “I’ll not have ye skulkin' about behind me shoulder gigglin'. You got somethin' to say you say it. Clear?”

  Catchpenny stood and bowed. “Indeed. I’ll take my leave. I have preparations of my own to make.”

  “Not pleased about him,” Thud said after the elf had left.

  “Toss him over the side if you like,” Samona said.

  “Naw, your ship, your call. We can always toss ‘im later.”

  Samona gave them the tour. Like other ships Thud had been on, the hold seemed larger than the outside of the ship had suggested. The waterline hid the ship’s true size. The hold stank of things that had not seen the light of day in ages and rats skittered away from the lamplight. The rats were a bonus to Thud’s thinking. ‘Rat’ was one of the largest chapters in Dwarven cookbooks.

  Afterwords they regrouped with Gong and Keezix on deck. The group kept silent until all of them were clear of the boat, back into the maze of Stilton. Darkness was settling in, bringing with it a spatter of rain. The smell of freshly wetted wood briefly lifted the town’s natural funk. They stopped beneath an awning at a noodle stall, the rain thumping loudly on the canvas overhead.

  “Having second thoughts about this job,” Thud said. “Maybe third and fourth thoughts too.”

  “I don’t like boats,” Gong said. He was taking the opportunity to order noodles from the tiny and ancient woman in the stall.

  “Thought it was oceans you didn’t like,” Keezix said.

  “Them too. Same thing far as I’m concerned.”

  “It ain’t the ship that’s me foremost concern,” Thud said. “That elf weren’t part of Samona’s crew. Ballsy little keeb. Works for the Singers. Seems that’s who we’re actually recoverin' this artifact for.”

  “They’re them nutters up north, ain’t they?” Keezix asked. “Robes, bells, knives…that lot?”

  “What’s the artifact?” Gong asked. He was twirling a great clump of noodles up in his choppys.

  “Dunno,” Thud said. “And yeah, whatever it may be I ain’t too happy ‘bout doing anything that might be to the benefit o’ the Singers. Their spy was on us even before we was hired and managed to get himself right in on the expedition. It’s gonna be him callin' the shots, not Samona. Samona’s in debt and that elf is gonna squeeze that for all it’s worth. Ruby?”

  Ruby had been standing silently at the edge of the group. Her hat was showing its usefulness, the rain dripping from around it like a circular waterfall.

  “I try not to advise on decisions like this,” she said. “You know that. I record history, I try not to make it.”

  “Yeah, I know yer rules but I also know you got a healthy sense o' self-preservation and when it comes down to it you don’t shy away from givin' history a kick
in the right direction, ‘specially when it’s happenin’ directly to you. If you got thoughts on this, now’s the time.”

  “Well, then, I reiterate my concern from earlier, with different words and more emphasis: A smuggled artifact being delivered from witch-doctors to cultists? The cult has long had a crusade mentality. What if this thing you’re recovering is the last bit they need to send cultists sacrificing their way across the countryside?”

  Thud was never happy when religion got mixed into his line of work. At least not on his side of the equation. The Dungeoneers had certainly sacked a temple or two in their day.

  “So, don’t take the job?”

  “My thought is that if you don’t recover this artifact…this chest, whatever it is they’re looking for, that they’ll simply find someone else who will.”

  “Aye, but our conscience will be clean of it.”

  “Will it? I don’t know what it is but suppose it actually is a dangerous artifact of some sort. When you hear of them using it, will you truly feel that you’re not responsible, having had this chance to get to it first?”

  “You’re suggesting that we recover it in order to keep it away from ‘em?” Keezix asked.

  “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just speculating on how the history will play out.”

  “We’d be breaking contract,” Gong said. “We never broke contract before.”

  “With Samona,” Thud said. “But that ain’t our real contract, is it? This is what the Widow hired us for. ‘Go to Stilton. You’ll be offered a job. Take it.’ Them is pretty clear instructions. We ain’t been offered any other jobs since we been here.”

  “Do you think she actually wants you to destroy it?” Ruby asked. “Keep it out of the hands of both groups?”

  “Well, she didn’t say anything in particular about the afterward part.”

  “Meaning her instructions are actually not clear in the slightest. Or…” she paused for a moment, thinking.

  “Or they are very clear and specific,” Thud finished the thought. “This is the Widow we’re talkin' about. She’s the sort where every piece on her chessboard is a king. If she wanted us to have more instructions I ‘spect she’d have given ‘em to us.”

  “Meaning that anything else is your prerogative,” Ruby said. “I’m not sure how wise it would be for us to try and guess at her motives. Do you think she’s relying on your personal ethics to decide what to do with the artifact?”

  “Could be, though me ethics are a bit dusty, I reckon. Kinda moot until we know what the artifact even is.” He arched one fuzzy eyebrow at her. “You’re playin' mighty close to your ‘I don’t make history I record it’ policy, ain’t ya?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re thinking this through carefully. I’m not interested in recording a religious crusade. Besides, your contract with Samona was to recover the cargo. I was there. No mention was made of giving it to the Singers. Recovering it will give you the chance to see what it is, what threat it might contain. It may turn out to be easy to convince Samona that the cargo shouldn’t go back to the Singers.”

  “Samona will make the choice that’s best for Samona. For having an entire cult after him being the choice he goes with we’re gonna have to offer up a mighty compelling alternative. I think that…”

  His voice trailed off.

  There was a crossbow bolt sticking out of Gong’s chest. Gong looked down at it and frowned, noodles still hanging from his mouth.

  Chapter Three

  The height difference caused Ruby to neatly fold over Thud’s shoulder as he crashed into her and bore her around the corner of the shop. He deposited her against the wall and spun back in a crouch, taking a quick glance around the corner. Lanterns hung here and there, smears of yellow light, but the darkness and the rain made Stilton a wall of shadow and mist.

  Over there–someone running, a black shape darting between pilings. Another there. Neither of them in the spot where he figured the bolt had come from. He’d pulled his mace from his belt. That’s all Gong and Keezix were carrying as well. None of them had brought anything with any sort of range on it.

  “Gong!” he hissed. “Keez!”

  “We’re behind the counter,” Keezix whispered back. “Gong’s hurt bad I think.”

  There was a high pitched shriek across the way and a shape fell from the rooftops, crashing motionless to the piers. A ball of flame ballooned up in the darkness with a wordless roar. What in the hells was going on out there?

  “Stay put,” he said to Ruby, then spun back, scrambling to cover behind a crop of pilings a few yards away. He heard something thwack against the wood where he’d just been. The figures he’d seen in the street were moving forward quickly, low and silent, blades in their hands. Neither was heading directly for him and he wasn’t sure if they were aware of him or not. They were closing on the noodle stand. A lantern across the way shattered, spraying oil into a bright pool of flame. The fire was intensely bright in the dark night and between him and wherever the crossbow bolts had been coming from. It was as good of a cover as he was going to get. He stepped out with a low back swing, right as one of the dark figures rushed past. The head of the mace made a satisfying crack against a kneecap and the figure went into a headfirst tumble across the wet wood. Thud’s follow-through finished with him holding the mace high over his right shoulder, perfectly cocked to throw. The other figure tried to stop and failed, skating across the slippery wood, arms pinwheeling to stay upright. Thud’s thrown mace entered the situation with a soft thump and the figure continued its slide in a heap.

  He picked up one of their dropped swords. It was slick with rain and as long as he was tall. He ran back across the pier to the noodle stand, stopping along the way to forcibly poke the sword into the attacker he’d knee-capped, then rolling across the counter through cracking clay pots, trying to avoid the boiling pots. He landed in darkness on a tangle of bodies.

  “Damn it Thud,” Keezix swore. “There ain’t room for you back here!”

  He was lying atop Gong, which was probably not on the checklist of wound treatments. The space behind the counter had never been intended to hold more than two people. Gong took up the majority of it on his own with Keezix wedged in one corner and the proprietor in another, the ancient little woman maintaining a steady stream of invective in what Thud was pretty sure was Ellian. He had an ear for swears and she was laying in some pretty good ones. He tried to roll off of Gong and found himself wedged against the back wall with several objectionably fragrant dish rags hanging wet against his cheek.

  “How ya doing, Gong?”

  “Hurts a hammered thumb, Teddy, but I think it’s just stuck in me meat.”

  “You only call me that when you’re fishin’ for sympathy. I’d pull it out but it might be barbed. Might have to push it all the way through.”

  Gong’s laugh transformed into a groan midway through.

  "Who the hells is attackin' us and what for?“ Keezix asked.

  “Dunno,” Thud said. “Ruby, you still out there?”

  “I’m all right,” her voice came from the other side of the wall.

  Thud squirmed around awkwardly until he could regain his feet. Gong groaned with each contortion.

  “Sorry, lad,” Thud said. “My coming back here weren’t the best tactical decision, were it?”

  “Nope,” Gong said. “But you were thinkin' like a team leader, looking out for yer crew so that’s okay. We already got the light off so we got good cover here from the bloke what’s shootin'.”

  “I dropped two that were on the ground. Saw some other fightin' up where them bolts was coming from. Not sure we’s the intended. There’s at least three claims in this fight.”

  “Sit tight then,” Gong said. “If they’re after us they’ll come to us and we’ll be waitin'. Got a couple boilin' pots of water up there. Ain’t had a noodle-stand siege before. Looking forward to it.”

  “Dunno how many more’s out there.” Thud risked a peek ove
r the top of the counter, figuring that the darkness was as good of a defense against anyone shooting at him as the counter was. The burning pool of lamp oil across the way was still gamely struggling against the rain but had mostly lost, devolving into blue ripples flickering across the wood. The rain was fortunate, really. Stilton was the sort of place where one out-of-control fire could take it right off the map.

  He was ducking as soon as he heard the CHONK noise, dropping behind the counter almost before his brain had even registered what he’d heard. There was an explosion of pottery shards just above him and a spray of hot noodles. Then the soft thwip of a bowstring from much closer, almost simultaneous, followed by a distant shout.

  “Everyone alive?” a voice asked. Thud poked his head up again. It was the elf, Catchpenny. He was in a crouch in front of the noodle stand, arrow nocked in a short bow.

  “Aye,” Thud said. “One wounded. What the hells is going on? Who’s fighting?”

  “They were after you,” Catchpenny said. “Two shooters, two on the ground. You got those ones and I just cleared the second crossbowman. Think we’re safe, at least for a few seconds.” He didn’t look in their direction as he spoke, instead continually scanning the darkness, arrow ready to fly.

  Thud had questions but figured they could go in the backshaft for the time.

  “Can you walk?” he asked Gong. “Cause balls if I’m carryin' ya.”

  Gong made a disrespectful noise and held his arms up. Thud grabbed one and Keezix the other and they pulled him to his feet. His posture sagged and he leaned into the counter but he remained upright. The shopkeep glared at them sullenly from the corner. Thud grabbed a handful of coins from his pouch and clinked them loudly onto the counter. He’d no idea what he’d grabbed but he knew there was a gold eagle or two in the pouch. Hopefully the pile of money was at least in the neighborhood of the damage to the shop.

  Ruby appeared from behind the stand. Her attention was on the elf, her expression inscrutable in the shadow of her hat. They started walking, Thud under one of Gong’s arms and Keezix beneath the other. Catchpenny knelt briefly beside the two assailants that Thud had downed before catching up to them.