“– stick in the mud.”
“That's the point. A male version of Kallen wouldn't make this work.”
“I'm worried he won't be ready. I don't want to see another one die.”
“I'm working as fast as I can, but these things take time.”
The trickster gazed on his namesake. “We are like a student who is writing a term paper that has taken all semester and is chugging energy drinks to make it through the night. We are running out of time.”
Basilard put an arm around his shoulder. “It will happen. Trust me and trust him.” He turned his attention to his bowl of poi and didn't say another word.
That night, Eric mulled over what he learned that day. His mentor was in cahoots with at least one trickster for a plan that involved him and Kallen. This meant that the children of Lady Chaos required him for something and Basilard was grooming him for it. He thought of possible reasons and his thoughts strayed to Latrot, which was currently ruled by an ordercrafter. I hope they don't want me to lead a revolution or challenge Latrot's king to single combat. He rolled over. That would be a pain.
The next two days passed without incident. Monsters attacked regularly but they were dealt with quickly and easily by the ship's mages and harpoon guns. Between Basilard’s study sessions and Kasile’s rant sessions, Eric spent all his time below deck and away from the superstitious crew.
Every direction was endless blue sea and endless blue sky. The sailors went about their business and the mercenaries continued their studies. Basilard made them drill regularly to stay in shape. Then the lookout reported twenty submerged forms approaching them at high speed.
They were purple, sleek, and fifteen feet long. Their fins and ridges were a darker shade of purple than the rest of their bodies. They used the ship’s wake as a ramp and performed tricks for their pink counterparts watching nearby.
“Those are wader beastfolk,” Nolien explained. “Like humans, this is how guys show off in the hopes of attracting a girl's attention and admiration.”
“So this is how they score,” Tiza said.
Nolien made a face. “If you wish to put it in vulgar terms, then yes.”
Poi lit up like the sunset on the ocean and jumped overboard. By the time he hit the water, he'd shifted into a form that could join them. The novices leaned over the rail to watch him perform, instruct, and flirt with waders of both genders.
Suddenly, water was gushing into Eric's mouth and stabbing every inch of him. Completely disoriented, he was pulled further and further down. No matter how he thrashed, he couldn't fight it; four tendrils ensnared his legs and arms. They were attached to hideous fish the size of houses and maws like meat grinders.
Red beams smashed into them from above and stunned them. Basilard swam into their midst and slashed their tentacles with BloodDrinker. The sword flashed golden-brown on contact and burned them. The squid reacted violently and squeezed Eric in spasms, but then the limbs fell slack. Tiza descended to his level and unwrapped him while Nolien fixed an air bubble around his head. The monsters reached to ensnare all three of them, but Basilard intercepted with a screen of blood. Eyes glowing with the same color, he jammed BloodDrinker into the head of one and put his hand through the other. The sword shined in glee and drank its fill while the novices escaped.
Just before they reached the surface, a third fish intercepted them. The monster spread its many tentacles like a net. There was no way past it and their air-bubble spells were running out of oxygen. Tiza was about to charge by herself when the sailors fired the harpoon guns. Metal spears the length of a human propelled by enough horsepower to breach a stone wall bounced off the cod’s skin. An aura of eldritch light appeared around it and drained all life from the surrounding area. Eric, already battling unconsciousness, slipped away.
Then, a golden-brown web caught the monstrous fish and lifted it out of the sea. Poi cradled it in his net arms and, no matter how it thrashed, it couldn't escape. The trickster split the net in two; the fish monster in one and a smoke monster in the other. The first panicked as would any fish in a net, but the latter was outright frantic.
“What ugly catch,” Poi said with a laugh. “Still, I bet it's tasty.”
The second net shrank and thinned, compressing the smoke creature from all sides. The trickster's flesh burned it and it shrank back into itself until there was nowhere left to hide. At last, the trickster's chaos dissolved it entirely and the net was gone. Then Poi dived underwater.
By then, Tiza had dragged her semi-conscious teammates to the boat. Its crew quickly lifted them up on deck. One performed CPR on Eric. Others stripped Tiza and Nolien of their wet clothing, wrapped them in emergency blankets, and enveloped them in warmth spells.
“I'm impressed with your strength,” an ox beastfolk told Tiza. “There are few humans your age that can pull themselves out of these waters, much less drag two people their own weight with them.”
“Most humans aren’t trained by Bloody Daylra. He made sure I can do stuff like this.”
“You’re not shivering either.”
“Spider Daylra was also thorough with my training.” She stood up tall and proud, and continued, “I can also resist magical incapacitation and certain poisons, but which ones are a secret.”
A wave rocked the boat and Basilard climbed onboard. In his wake, he carried two shriveled and bloodless monsters. He wasn't shivering either, which amazed the sailors all the more. Poi floated up from behind him with two more smoke creatures in his net arms.
The crew cheered Poi and sang hymns in his honor as they cut up the squid-fish monsters. There was enough meat on their bones to feed the entire crew for a round trip. Poi took a bow then settled into the crow's nest. Team Four settled into the cabin with towels and instant soup.
“What were those things?” Eric asked. “They looked familiar.”
“Hotuna,” Basilard replied. “Likely garden-variety cod that was caught in a mana storm.”
“Enforcers,” Nolien said. “Those smoke creatures are enforcers.”
“Does that mean Nulso recruited them for his grudge against me?”
“It’s possible,” Basilard said. “Summoning local enforcers is part of a fully trained ordercrafter’s skillset.”
“Is possible that Order himself wants to kill me?”
Tiza laughed. Basilard did not.
“Order sees you like you see a germ; a tiny organism to be sterilized, but his table is as big as a universe. That’s if he knows you exist in the first place.”
There were no more incidents like the one with the Hotuna, but Eric was anxious regardless. Whether the hit came from Order or just Nulso, the fact remained that Order-based creatures had tried to kill him and he couldn’t fight back. To do so, he needed chaos. He needed to become a chaoscraft like Dengel or he would die. With this new perception, he found himself looking forward to his mission, not just to crack open Dengel’s lair, but to find something useful inside.
As the days passed and they traveled further south, the air became warmer, the sun brighter and the water bluer. The shining sun filled them all with warmth. All day, the ship traveled full in the sun; the glorious sun and easy breeze. After working his novices all morning, Basilard allowed them to relax in the afternoon, but Eric did not take him up on it. He stayed below deck.
The tropical sun bothered him. He was fine in Mambi because it was cloudy seven days out of ten, and in Roalt, the winter sun was weaker in both heat and light. Fire itself diminished in this season as did snow in summer. That was why its soldiers trained harder in the winter. Here, the sun was merciless. After a couple days of just Tiza and Nolien lying out on deck, Basilard gave him a hood so he could join them. On one such afternoon, the mage rolled over on deck. He had just woken up from another nap; fully splayed out and relaxing.
“You know, other than almost dying and the crew’s dirty looks, this has been a good trip.”
“Yeah.”
“Wanna know what I like the mo
st?” Eric asked drowsily.
“What?” Nolien asked.
“Basilard can't go all drill sergeant on us.”
“Yeah...” Tiza agreed and stretched. “It's nice.”
A large form blocked their light and all the novices opened their eyes. It was a seagull and it pooped on Nolien as it flew over the ship. Neither Tiza nor Eric could stop laughing as Nolien wiped off the slimy substance. Tiza laughed so hard she was gasping for breath, and seconds later, Nolien was too. Both of them grabbed their throats and heaved.
“Guys...?” Eric was on his feet and at their sides. “What's wrong!?” They couldn't answer. “Guys!” He reached for his staff and was already chanting when a hand clapped his shoulder.
“Don't worry about them,” Basilard said. “It takes a while to get used to Ceiha’s Barren Curse.”
“It reaches all the way out here?”
Basilard nodded. “The air is thin, the food is bland, and the water will never quench your thirst.”
The similarity was eerie and confirmed his fears about this mission. What Basilard just described was exactly how Eric felt when he returned to Threa. His body grew weaker by the day as the mana flow in his body coagulated. A permanent ache settled in his muscles. Some days, he felt like he was dying. Now he had to experience that all over again.
Tiza and Nolien weren't moving, but they breathed slow and shallow. Basilard wasn't worried, so he believed they would survive. On the other hand, he didn’t believe Basilard understood what they were about to endure.
“Then why doesn't everyone leave?” Eric asked.
“The lack of danger,” Basilard replied. “There are no monsters, no mana storms, and no mages. There aren't even natural disasters or severe weather. In Ceiha, the only danger a human has to fear comes from his fellow man.”
“Really? Then do they live longer?”
“Nope.” Basilard was smiling. “The life expectancy here compared with Roalt is about the same. Food is in short supply, and when that happens, your life is in constant danger of ending within a week. It more or less balances out.”
As Margret neared Ceiha, its curse stifled the entire area. The wind died and the sky was uniformly blue in all directions. The sea was increasingly calm until it was as still as the land. One day, the ship's mana-drive engine cut off and part of the crew jumped onto treadmills. They were connected to the generator Eric noticed at the start of the journey. Watching grown men take turns biking, Eric wondered if this is what ordinary Ceihans had to do every day.
The coast came into view days later and, with it, the first sign of life since Margret entered Ceihan territorial waters; grey stone towers. These weren't lighthouses meant to guide travelers, but sentry posts with walls linking them. They went up and down the coast for miles.
“Do they think someone is going to invade?” Eric asked.
“Something like that, yeah. Our souls are two magnitudes stronger than anyone here. Make sure you keep yours suppressed or you might hurt someone.”
The ship followed the coast and its guardians for hours. After they passed a horn-like rock outcropping, Basilard told Eric to turn on his Magic Sight. Through his mana-seeing eyes, the world was dark as dusk. The ocean was light grey, the land was a dark shade of grey, and the sky was almost black. He looked around in disbelief and saw himself and the others shining like blue stars. Turning back to the coast, he spotted five lights at the base of the outcropping. Four of them were diminished and the fifth shined brighter than any other, and with green light instead of blue. He turned Magic Sight off and they disappeared.
“What do you think?” Basilard asked.
After a pause, Eric said, “The fifth person is maintaining a dark veil on the group. They're drawing mana from Forol because there isn't any in the environment.”
“Fifty points,” Basilard said. “Forol wouldn't come to this part of the world to save it. No, that man is drawing power from Noitearc itself.”
“Oh! So he's one of those Noitearc monks I read about. Why is he casting an invisibility spell if there's no... 'The only danger a human has to fear comes from his fellow man.' They’re risking their lives doing this, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are. That's what these walls are for and that's why a Noitearc monk has to hide people when they fish outside them.”
The only place Margret could safely land was the harbor town of Yebo. Unlike Roalt, it better resembled a prison than a fortress. The guards on the ramparts were not facing the sea, but the inner country. When Margret approached its gates, they remained firmly shut. A soldier had to rappel on a rope line to ask the ship's business. Haburt replied with hand signs. The soldier nodded and asked for his paperwork.
“Zaticana!” Eric shouted.
The soldier stared at him, but Haburt drew his attention back with more hand signs. Internally, Eric continued his revelation. These guys don't have Zaticana's blessing. They wouldn't understand our language. That's why Haburt uses sign language. Haburt gave the soldiers a sheet of paper, the soldier looked it over, stamped it, and asked for another, which Haburt supplied. After several rounds of this, the soldier gestured to his fellow on the top and the gate clanked open.
Inside the harbor was a low-lying haze that limited visibility. Eric could see buildings beyond the dock but couldn't make out what they were from the water. There weren't any other fishing vessels here or passenger ferries. There were only tankards unloading their cargo. From the smell and the size of the containers, he guessed they dealt in oil. Humans rolled out barrel after barrel in a never-ending line. A dragon flying overhead mistook them for ants at a whale corpse.
Margret weighed anchor at the wharf and the crew was glad to get off the bicycles. Haburt jumped to the boardwalk dock to meet a pair of customs agents that carried the same equipment as the soldier. They engaged in another round of paper shuffling while Team Four left the boat. As soon as the agents spotted Basilard, they pulled out black boxes and said, “I’ve spotted the Crimson Killer. I repeated, I’ve spotted the Crimson Killer. Send back up to the wharf immediately.”
The three novices looked to Basilard and asked, “Crimson Killer?”
Basilard’s eyes glowed and he gripped BloodDrinker’s hilt.
More soldiers quickly arrived and surrounded the mercenaries on land, sea, and air. All of them carried weapons that lacked any sort of blade. Only Eric recognized them as guns and so he was the only one to feel even slightly afraid. He remembered being shot at with muskets at close range, but that only felt like a bee sting because of his barrier. I wonder what they hope to accomplish?
One stepped forward and said, “Crimson Killer, you are under arrest for the following charges: murder, practicing magic, kidnapping, spreading disease, and consorting with supernatural creatures.”
Basilard signed. “I’ve never visited this country. How could I have committed a crime here?”
“Don’t play innocent! You match the description of witnesses and photography.”
The spokesman produced a photo of a man bearing an astonishing resemblance to Basilard: height, body type, clothes, red hair, red eyes, and even the sword was a match. At the sight of it, Basilard grew so mad his blood lust knocked out most of the soldiers. The novices, too, felt faint and scared from being so close to it.
“Enough!”
A butt of wood clapped on the ground and another figure approached. Instead of military uniform, this one dressed in priest-like robes of midnight black. His hood covered his face, but the skin of his hands was deathly pale. He carried a scythe in his right hand and a book was tucked into a harness under his left shoulder.
“I will speak with him.”
“As you wish, Brother Neuro,” the soldier spokesman said. “Fall back; let him handle it.”
The soldiers backed up and the dark priest advanced. His eyes shined as he stared at Basilard and spoke with his scythe. They conversed about many things such as bloodline, guilt level, and appropriate supplies of kon for someone his
age. Basilard was still and silent until he was finished.
“Is that BloodDrinker in your sheath?”
Basilard unsheathed the sword and showed it to him, but wouldn't let him touch it. Neuro ran one finger on his scythe’s blade and held out the bleeding finger to the sword. It lurched forward, glowing and whining. Basilard needed both hands to keep it from flying into the priest’s wound.
“Yes, that is the genuine article. The one wielded by the Crimson Killer does not react around blood, and so it must be a fake. Ye Not Guilty.”
The soldiers stood down at once. One of them radioed to their base that the call was a false alarm. The customs agents resumed their paper game with Haburt and the death priest continued to speak with Basilard.
“I was stationed here to watch for someone who obstructs Lord Death's work. He corrupts corpses, pilfers souls, and steals kon to power forbidden arts. His codename is ‘Crimson Killer.’ I contacted the local reaper, but he has not provided any useful information. If there is any that you can provide, I would sincerely appreciate it.”
Basilard's grip tightened. A moment later, he relaxed and sheathed the sword.
“I haven’t seen the Exile in over eight years. I thought he was dead.”
“I see. That is troubling.”
“What kind of disease are these soldiers talking about?”
“We have seen cases of blood conversion and necro-poisoning. In fact, one victim of each resides in this port, so I may tend to them while I wait. I presume you wish to see them?”
Basilard nodded and followed him to one of the less intimidating buildings in the harbor.
Seeing that the problem had passed, the gate reopened to allow Margret to leave. Kutho and Haburt shook hand-flipper goodbye. He would return in a month to pick them up. In the meantime, he had fish to catch. The gate closed behind them and the sound of steel against steel made Eric jittery. He didn’t like being trapped here.
Beyond the station for the death priest, there were only government buildings. There was the customs office that housed the agents; big and bleak and lifeless. There was the barracks for the soldiers; similar but more primal and dangerous. Finally, there was a jail and adjacent gallows. If the guards were so eager to shoot us, then who do they take there?
Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 Page 24
