by Robert Bevan
“I don't see much in the way of luggage between ye. Please tell me you've got something to feed that thing aside from me crew and passengers.”
“We've got it covered,” said Katherine.
Basil groaned as Randy walked back up the ramp without him. Randy felt bad about leaving him down there in the dark, then felt worse remembering that Basil was already constantly in the dark. Perhaps that should have made Randy feel better, considering that the darkness itself wouldn't contribute to the misery Basil would suffer over the next couple of days, but it didn't.
“Can I give him one now?” Randy asked Katherine. “So he's got something to nibble on while he gets accustomed to his new environment.”
“Sure.” Katherine held open the Bag of Holding. “You can go ahead and do the honors.”
Randy reached in. “Big rat.” He shuddered as he felt the tail in his hand, bony and loose-skinned. But he supposed that, when blindly grabbing a giant dead rat, the tail was the best part he could have hoped for. He pulled out the rat corpse, bracing himself for the foul stench of decomposition, but was pleasantly surprised that the foul stench seemed to be just refuse and rat shit. Katherine must have been right about that bag keeping things fresh. Some day, it might be nice to get one of those bags. But a new one which hadn't had any dead bodies or vomit or anything, and keep a bunch of bread and cold cuts in it.
“That be a nice bag,” said Captain Longfellow, not even attempting to conceal the covetous look in his eyes.
Katherine narrowed her eyes at him. “You keep your hands to yourself, or I'll show you the inside.”
Randy tossed the dead rat down the ramp and felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Close it before I change my mind.”
Captain Longfellow put a hand on Randy's shoulder. “He'll be fine, lad. It may be a little more cramped than what he's used to, but not so much so as the room ye three'll be staying in.”
“What?” said Katherine. “I have to share a room with him?” She looked at Denise. “And that?”
“Aye,” said the captain, “And whoever shows up to fill the fourth bunk in the room.” He led them to the cabins, which were stacked on top of each other like cake tiers, each a little smaller than the one below it, creating a one-foot-wide ledge to navigate sideways on each tier.
Captain Longfellow opened the door of the nearest deck-level cabin. The inside looked like the bathroom of an abandoned gas station, but with cots instead of plumbing, and the graffiti all written in knife marks or blood. “The ones down here are slightly larger than the ones above. But the higher you climb, the more privacy you have, what with fewer folks climbing past yer rooms to go shit-chum the waters.”
He hadn't been kidding when he compared Basil's accommodations to their own. Randy felt a lot less guilty now for making Basil stay in the cargo hold. On either side of an already thinner-than usual doorway, there were two bunks, the upper bunks only about three feet above the lower bunks, and the ceiling about two and a half feet above the upper bunks. It seemed less like a cabin and more like a filing cabinet drawer.
“This is for four people?” said Katherine.
“Aye, and don't forget this little feller.” Captain Longfellow bent over to pet Butterbean, but straightened and raised his hand innocently when the wolf growled at him.
Katherine leaned into the tiny cabin, then immediately pulled back out. “Ugh, it smells like fish and B.O. in there.”
“Perhaps ye be misinformed about what this ship's purpose be. The Maiden's Voyage is not a luxury barge destined for the Isles of Carnal Pleasures.”
“Is that a real place?” asked Denise.
“This is a transport ship for those desperate or foolhardy enough to seek their fortunes on Bharan, and for those who've come to realize their mistake and seek passage back. If you're unhappy with the accommodations, I wish you luck finding more comfortable passage for yerselves and a gods damned basilisk.”
“I'm sorry,” said Katherine. “I didn't mean to –”
“And I suppose I should get this out of the way now. Aboard my ship, ye'll be expected to fish for yer supper. I provide the rods, lines, and hooks, but the aches in yer bellies will be soothed only by what the sea be willing to provide.”
“I ain't complainin' or nothing,” said Randy. “I'm just curious is all. You said it's a big priority to keep folks as calm and docile aboard your ship as possible, right?”
“Aye.”
“Well don't the scarcity of food contribute to panic?”
Captain Longfellow nodded. “I used to think the same until I had a particularly rowdy crowd on a particularly long voyage. They was fighting for the sake of fighting, and it only got worse as the voyage went on. 'Twas all me crew could do to keep them from killing one another.” His eyes glazed over with the unpleasant memory. “And then the storm came. The winds threw us off course, costing us two more weeks 'fore we'd reach our destination.”
“And you didn't have enough food?”
“We had plenty of food. A good sailor expects the unexpected. Storms in the South Sea are not uncommon during the summer months. But two of the passengers had planned their trip so they'd reach Bharan before the full moon. Suffice it to say, that didn't happen.” He widened his eyes at Randy, seemingly for dramatic effect. “And so their curse was revealed.”
Randy gasped. “Were they...” He didn't know why, but he felt he should whisper, “werewolves?”
“Pish no, thank the gods. What a mess that would have been. They were wererats. Just as vile, but not quite so violent. We found them in the morning, bare-ass naked in the food stores, in their hybrid forms and fast asleep. They'd shat all over the place. Every last bit of food was contaminated.”
“What did they have to say for themselves when you woke them up?” asked Katherine.
“Har! Not much, lass. They were swinging by the necks from the yards within an hour. Couldn't even use them for chum. No one wants to risk eating a fish that's possibly been contaminated with lycanthropy.”
“I guess that's when you started fishing?” said Randy.
“Aye, and ye never seen folks get along so well as when they don't know whose line will pull in the next fish.”
Chapter 23
Chaz woke up groggy and confused. What were that continuous rushing sound and those grunting noises? Why did he feel like he was moving? Why was he unable to move? He opened his eyes.
Tree branches rushed upward against a background of pink evening sky. He was on his back, being dragged along the forest floor. Lifting his head, which felt as heavy as a bowling ball, he found that he was bound with twine, like Gulliver. His arms were wrapped firmly to his sides, and his legs were tied together. Lifting his head a bit more, he saw that his feet were also tied to the braided leather harnesses of two black boar which were pulling him on some kind of sled.
He looked back and saw that Cooper and Zanzifurl were likewise tied to bamboo sleds and being dragged through the forest by boar. The boar seemed very purposeful in their task, like they knew exactly where they were going despite having no one to guide them.
Unable to fathom what purpose a boar might have for abducting them, or the means by which a boar, even an unusually intelligent one, would be able to manipulate string with their hooves well enough to tie them to sleds, Chaz suspected the boar weren't working alone.
“Hello?” he called out. “Hey! Is anybody there? What are you –”
He felt something like two fingers poking him in the belly. Two indentations in his shirt matched the feeling, but he couldn't see whatever was making the indentations.
“Cease making all that noise at once!” a voice like a Smurf's scolded him. “Do you want to summon every Dark One in the forest?”
Chaz shook his head. Whatever kind of invisible creature this was standing on his chest, kidnapping him, having boar drag him through the forest, and scolding him for talking, Chaz preferred it immensely to feeling the soul-chilling touch of a Dark One again. Cooper had taken
down a few more of them, but one of them managed to touch Chaz again before Cooper could finish it off. He barely had the strength to stand up even if he wasn't tied to a sled. He was curious, however, and risked a whisper.
“Who are you?”
The two indentations on Chaz's shirt disappeared. A couple of seconds later, an orange-haired head materialized above Chaz's face. It was small, like a baby's, but its elf-like features were adult. Then the rest of its body appeared. Yellow gossamer wings and leather armor, painted bright green and pink and adorned with orange wildflowers. Chaz supposed that camouflage wasn't a huge concern for a creature that could turn invisible at will. The small flying man nocked an arrow and narrowed his eyes at Chaz.
“I'm the one who's going to shoot you to sleep again if you don't shut your trap.” He was more intimidating than anyone dressed like that had any business being.
Chaz nodded, and the little flying man flew ahead, landed on the back of the boar, then vanished. With few other viable options, Chaz tried to relax and enjoy the ride.
“The fuck?” said Cooper a few minutes later. “What the... Who... Son of a bitch! Fuck this shit. I'm really angry!”
SNAP
SNAP SNAP
SNAP SNAP SNAP
Chaz heard more cords popping. These little flying fuckers hadn't counted on Barbarian Rage.
Cooper roared as individual pops turned into one big rip. He must have gotten an arm free.
“Halt!” cried another Smurf voice. “The big one's loose!”
The boar-driven caravan came to a halt. Zanzifurl's sled pulled up to Chaz's left side and Cooper's sled, now empty but for some strands of frayed twine, pulled up on his right.
“I told you we should have used more rope on him.”
“We used all we had. More rope for one would have meant less for the other two.”
“Look at the dandy one. One strand would have been enough to bind his hands together.”
Chaz was a little annoyed, wondering whether or not they knew his Strength had been sapped by Dark Ones.
“Fuck you, talking pigs!” cried Cooper as he leaped onto a boar's back and started punching it in the head.
“Cooper!” said Chaz. There wasn't much point in keeping quiet now. “It's not the boar. It's –”
“Where are we?” said Zanzifurl. The sound of squealing pigs and Cooper's barrage of profanity had roused him from his slumber. “It's too dark! We have to get out of here. The Dark Ones!”
TWANG
TWANG TWANG TWANG TWANG TWANG
Similar to how the popping strands of Cooper's bindings had sounded, a series of releasing bowstrings rang out. It was almost musical.
Cooper stood up from the pig he'd been beating, his eyes crossing as his Rage-enhanced muscles deflated. The accompanying fart whisked any hint of music from the air, replacing it with Cooper's signature brand of chemical warfare.
Once he'd collapsed, presumably full of invisible NyQuil-tipped arrows, the Smurf voices groaned from a little higher up and farther away than they had been. Even Zanzifurl's eyes teared up as he scrunched his nose.
“By the gods! How can something so vile be contained within –” Zanzifurl's eyes widened and focused solidly in one direction. “There, in those bushes! I saw one! Children of the Forest, I beg you! Please don't let it take me!”
“I see it,” said one of the Smurf voices. “Spread out. I'll take the target position.”
Chaz spotted the Dark One. It was coming right for him. Being the weakest, he was the likeliest target. He wanted to shout, but he was too terrified to speak.
“Now!” cried the Smurf voice which had called the 'target position'. A second later, the quickly darkening forest flashed alight with five bolts of green lightning, fanning out from a point right behind the Dark One to five points up in the air. The Dark One lit up like a filament bulb, exposing the horrified and anguished face of whomever it used to be for a fraction of a second, then disintegrated into a mist of darkness.
“Put the big one back on the sled,” said a voice that Chaz thought was the same one who had taken the target position, but he couldn't be sure. “Use what you have to keep him from falling off. He should still be asleep long after we reach the glade. We'll bind him more securely then.”
“Everyone, on three!” said another Smurf voice, this one female. “One, two, three!”
Cooper's arms and legs rose from the ground. Then, between at least a dozen grunts and the swarm-like din of furiously flapping wings, his entire body was levitating.
“Gently! Gently!” said the female voice as Cooper floated over the sled. “Very good. Now –”
Cooper let out another fart. This one was long and wet-sounding.
“Agh!” cried at least four of the winged people as Cooper's ass fell down hard. A loud crack came from the sled.
“Nuts and berries!” said the female voice. That was the most adorable swearing Chaz had ever heard. “Now what do we do?”
“What is it you want from us?” asked Chaz.
“I thought I'd made it clear,” said the voice that had told Chaz to shut up, “that I want you to shut up.”
“I'm just saying, if you don't intend to hurt us, I'm sure we'd all prefer to follow you than stay out here with the Dark Ones. If you untie us, we'll happily go wherever you tell us to.”
“Should we trust him?”
“I don't see how we have much of a choice now that the sled is broken.”
“We could leave them here.”
“Hickory Nut, shame on you!”
“I didn't suggest we do that. I was just laying out all the options.”
“They wouldn't survive the night out here.”
“But what if they're agents of the Dark Lord?”
“They don't look like agents of the Dark Lord. If they are, perhaps the Dark Lord is not as powerful as we thought.”
“No satyr would betray his fellow fey.”
“Ha! A satyr would betray his own mother for a cup of wine and a gourd to poke his pecker in.”
“Hey!” said Zanzifurl.
It was getting darker, and Chaz was getting more and more nervous with each flicker of genuine shadow. “Whatever you guys are going to do, can you please go ahead and do it?”
“He's right. Whipperwillow, Honeydrop, and Huckleberry. Tie the two remaining sleds side by side.”
“Yes, Hollywhirl.”
“Dimplethorn, Cinnamon, and Wildflower. Hitch Snuffles and Porkpie together with the other boar.”
“Right away, Hollywhirl.”
As sleds, strings, and pig harnesses began to move around, seemingly of their own accord, a female pixie appeared directly above Chaz's face. She had pink hair and wore yellow and green leather armor. She gave Chaz a stern look and held up a warning finger.
“Don't you make me regret this.”
She turned invisible again, but Chaz could feel the wind from her wings blowing against his face. A moment later, he was able to move his arms. The strings which had been binding them to his sides were now loose.
Sitting up felt like he was wearing a sweater made out of lead. Walking felt like he was wearing cinder blocks on his feet. Those Dark Ones had done a number on him. He didn't know if he'd be able to walk as far as he needed to.
“There's another one!” cried Zanzifurl, pointing at a tree now that his bindings had been loosened. “Hurry! Use your magic lightning again!”
“We just used the last one we had for the day,” said Hollywhirl.
“Then wake up the half-orc! Give him his axe.”
“Absolutely not.”
Chaz finally spotted the Dark One. They were so much more difficult to see with all the natural shadows growing longer and darker as the sun set. Like all the others, it was headed his way. He tried to back away from it, but every step was a struggle.
“Pixie people,” he said, keeping his eyes on the Dark One as it crept toward him. “Please tell me you have another option.”
�
�Ready!” said one of the pixies from over by the sleds.
“Grab your half-orc friend,” said Hollywhirl. “Get on the sled!”
“I barely have the Strength to move myself. Those things touched me.”
“Nuts and berries!” Hollywhirl sighed. “Everyone help me put the half-orc on the sled.”
There was a quiet din of murmuring as all the disembodied voices gathered around Cooper's unconscious body again.
“His skin is so sticky.”
“I don't want to touch his foot again.”
“The arms aren't much better.”
“He'd better not fart on me again.”
“Everyone grab his arms,” said Zanzifurl. “I'll get his feet!”
With Zanzifurl holding Cooper by the feet and a bunch of invisible pixies holding up his top half, it created the illusion that Zanzifurl was incredibly strong and Cooper was incredibly stiff, and they were performing some kind of impossible feat of acrobatics.
“Gods have mercy!” said Zanzifurl as they hauled Cooper onto the sled. “I might have preferred touching the Dark One.”
Having experienced both, Chaz couldn't even bring himself to joke about it. He gratefully endured his close proximity to Cooper on the sled.
“Hurry!” cried Zanzifurl. “Two more approach! And those are just the ones I can see.”
“Go!” said Hollywhirl, and the boar started running like they'd been shot out of a cannon. Even if his own strength wasn't currently compromised, Chaz had a new appreciation for the power in those short piggy legs. He let himself relax a little as they outran the Dark Ones. Then he jumped when Hollywhirl's head and wings appeared in front of his face. She was flying behind the sled, and pixies could apparently choose what parts of their bodies they wanted to be invisible.
“I don't personally believe you're aligned with the Dark Lord,” she said to Chaz and Zanzifurl.
