by G. Akella
The whole ship had two lower decks, except for the ballast room. Also, the sailors’ and officers’ cabins were in the fore and aft parts of the ship, respectively, and formed a third lower deck in those areas. So the hull, from keel to the upper deck, was at most twenty-five feet tall. And I had wasted five hours exploring it all!
I even saved the captain’s and officers’ cabins for last, figuring I might find something valuable there. Though I knew it would likely be worthless, especially for someone of my level. Some kind of treasure map, maybe...
I knocked my pipe out on the windowsill and glanced at the moon overhead. A path of moonlight stretched toward me across the water. The ship was swaying steadily, lapped quietly by the waves, and... I heard a creak. Hart! Those creaks just kept scaring the hell out of me! Everything in this ship made noise. Walls. Floor. Ceiling. Even the destroyed furniture and sailors’ bones seemed to contribute to the creaking sounds. This was a wooden vessel, after all. With each groan and squeak, whatever romance of the sea that I had felt earlier evaporated.
The moon had been up in the sky for an hour, but twilight still lingered. It was ten o’clock at the latest. All right, time to end this tour.
I put my pipe back into my bag, shook yet more mold from my hand, and headed for the stairs to the officers’ cabins.
There were eight cabins altogether, four on either side of a rather wide corridor. I decided to start from the cabins towards the stern. On the door of the cabin to the left was a carved depiction of a black cat. Though I would have expected mermaids or octopuses, the carving was masterfully done. The animal sat with its tail wrapped around its paws, looking questioningly at everyone daring to enter. This must have been the captain’s quarters. It was richly decorated and featured a huge map hanging on the opposite wall. A map in perfect condition. There was also a massive desk and the captain’s chest, which unlike the sailor’s chests was armored with copper plates and nailed to the floor. The rest of the furnishings - the bed, the chairs, the wardrobe - were in complete disrepair due to the moisture that had come through the broken windows.
The captain was in here, too. Well, some of him. And that was strange. Most of the crew had lost their lives in their quarters or at their post. The sailors in large rooms with rotting hammocks, and the officers here, in their cabins. Had death come to them at night, and so suddenly? Probably. Damn, and I would have liked to get some sleep tonight. But if there was really some kind of monster on this ship, I doubted it could be above level 300, so I shouldn't worry. Shoving a massive bronze candlestick aside with my foot, I bent down and touched the captain’s skull. Hart! I had hoped to find some answers here, but no... Just another rare sabre, this time level 200, a rare leather belt with an anchor buckle, a bronze key, and five gold coins. More useless trash. The desk drawers had some pieces of rotting leather alongside two parchment notebooks in decent shape. One was filled with tables of indecipherable numbers, but the other turned out to be the ship’s log. I leafed through it, read the final entries, slammed it shut, and put both notebooks in my bag. I didn’t know why - there was nothing interesting in the log. But I was right that these had been pirates. Their ship was called the Aldena. Fifty nine years ago, they had been traveling the northern coast of Erantia, going around the Isle of Berkos. Along the way they had looted the precious metal bars that I had found in the vault from a merchant ship. Among the spoils was also found a box made of silver, two hundred jugs of olive oil, and a portrait of someone named Dagon. Then the ship headed for the West Coast. There, the entries ended. Well, at least the interesting entries ended - everything since was mundane. I had about as much desire to read them as the latest Twilight books. Later, perhaps. For now, I had my own adventures to write. Much more interesting ones.
Of course, it was possible that the box they had stolen from the merchant had kept something much more terrible than silver, which had then crawled out and sent all of these brave fellows to the Gray Frontier. But I found that unlikely. The captain would have recorded that the box was sealed, or would have opened the box while it was still on the merchant’s vessel and described the contents. Plus, there were no jugs of oil on the ship, nor any empty jugs at all, and if the portrait of Dagon that was mentioned had been present when the crew died, it wasn’t here now. Unless those things were in the remaining seven officers’ cabins. So the pirates must have sold or stashed the portrait and other goods somewhere back on shore. And perhaps the box, too.
I walked towards the chest, my faith in luck quickly dwindling. It was almost two feet in height, up to my knee. Pretty impressive, actually. The moisture had turned the oaken boards dark, but they showed no signs of cracking. Blue-green corrosion had begun to conquer the faces of the copper plates. I pulled out the key I had looted from the captain’s body, stuck it in the keyhole, and slowly turned. The lock clicked agreeably. Just in case, I stashed the key in my bag, then opened the chest and looked inside.
Twenty one gold coins in a leather pouch, a copper telescope, an empty box made of silver, and the captain’s personal items. The box was probably the one described in the journal. Now I knew that this ship had absolutely nothing of value for me.
I took the gold, the box and the pipe, slammed the chest closed, and looked around. To my surprise, the wall map was untouched by mold. Made of enchanted parchment paper, most likely. I cut it down from the wall, folded it, and placed it in my bag before leaving the cabin. Maps were something you always took with you. Once I put all this trouble behind me, I’d open the game menu and add it to my map. Perhaps someday a chart of the northwest coast of Karn would come in handy?
Chapter 10
In the next two cabins I found nothing of note, but in the third, on the wall, I found a portrait of a gloomy bald man hanging above a desk nailed to the floor. Dagon, I take it? Who was he, and why the hell had his portrait been on that ship robbed by the pirates? Was it an antique?
I carefully looked at the image, then froze in amazement. Words escaped me. The painting... It made everything worth it. Never mind the stupid riddles and impoverished skulls, I would have sailed a whole year listening to that stupid creaking just to get my hands on a painting like this!
The man was wearing a black satin shirt with its upper buttons unbuttoned. He was in a building that was planted right on the water. The walls were woven of reeds, and a large end table stood near the open door. Through that door, you could see the moon hanging above the surface of the water. The surface of the end table was covered with colorful shells of all shapes and sizes. The man himself was sitting, arms on the table in front of him, looking straight out in that way that makes viewers divert their eyes in discomfort. It was as if I was not admiring a painting but stepping into someone’s home without their permission.
Wow! I shook away my reverie and grinned. Thank you, pirates and merchants. Thank you, ridiculous crap in the rest of the ship. You brought me here. To me, this picture was worth more than a dozen ships. But who was this Dagon? Some kind of god? Once again, I was staring down another rabbit hole. Or was this painting my very purpose for being here?
I quickly looked through the Chronicles and sighed in relief. No mention of any Dagon. That didn’t mean this painting was not the purpose of my coming here, though. It still could be. But the less involvement the gods had in my adventures, the better. The portrait was not signed, but the man depicted was clearly a noble. His shirt featured a detailed ornamental design, and he wore a ring with a large sapphire, the kind too rich for ordinary mortals. A famous bandit of the seas, perhaps? Anyway, first I needed to look around.
But there was nothing interesting here. It seemed likely that the ship’s alchemist or magician had lived in this cabin. An alchemical table sat in the corner, unmarred by rust, and flasks were scattered across the floor. The contents of the room’s chest only bolstered these conclusions. Five gold coins and the personal belongings of the deceased officer, yes, but also two magic scrolls: Ice Spear Manipulate Water.
I was about to nab the portrait from the wall when my eyes caught a faint sparkle in the corner of the room. It was so weak that I could only see it when my lantern was located right in the middle of the cabin. I approached and picked up a tiny round sapphire from the floor, about a quarter inch in diameter. Beggars indeed. I snickered and was about to place the pebble into my bag when the System highlighted a small ring near the right wall. Picking up the ring, I examined it carefully. It seemed to be nothing special - a narrow band of gold with subtle lettering around the outside and an empty setting for a jewel, made of four thin petal-shaped prongs, one of which was broken off. Probably a woman’s ring - it had the right elegance and size for it.
I focused my eyes in on the ring and read the inscription. "Alike cleanses alike." Damn. Well, it might be profound, but it doesn’t tell me anything.
But poetry analysis could wait. The System highlighted the ring just after I picked up the sapphire, and it didn’t take Archimedes to put two and two together. I carefully inserted the sapphire into the setting, gently squeezed the petals, and suddenly recoiled from the flash that followed.
You've accessed the quest: The Curse of Keto.
Quest type: hidden, unique.
Destroy the Curse of Keto.
Reward: experience, unknown.
Wonderful. I got a new quest, and nobody gave a damn whether I actually wanted it or not. I felt like a chess piece. The pawns never got a say as to whether they wanted to be sacrificed. Nobody ever advocated for the poor things, either. Not that I was a pawn. More like a knight. I could leap over the heads of my enemies and reach squares that even the queen could not. That would allow me to emerge victorious. I relaxed and focused on the ring again - and whistled in surprise.
Ledda’s Hope [CURSED].
Accessory; ring.
Durability: 11,332/20,000.
Epic, scalable.
No minimum level.
Hilarious... No bonuses, no stats. Never had I heard of a cursed item like this. I read the quest text again and thoughtfully scratched my right cheek. How could I destroy this curse? I did have one idea. Ruination to the rescue! If I destroyed the ring Gimli-style, the curse would disappear. It was a pity to destroy it, of course, it being a scalable item and a pretty little thing, but I had no intention of putting it on my finger or in my bag.
Laying the ring on the table just beneath the portrait, I pulled out my sword and raised it to swing - and at that very moment, the man in the portrait threw up his hand like the angel at Isaac’s offering. His face literally twisted, his mouth opened in a silent scream, and despair and monstrous rage mixed together in his eyes. Damn! I recoiled reflexively and slowly lowered my sword. In the picture, Dagon lowered his hand to the table at which he sat, sighed with relief, and shook his head.
"So... what do I do?" I asked as soon as my speech returned to me.
Paintings in Arkon were something else! Some displayed visions, others scared the daylights out of you. You hang a nice decoration up to brighten the room, and then at night something might leap out of it at you, or start giving you advice on how to live your life. Then nod approvingly. Assuming you listened.
Dagon apparently understood my question correctly. He nodded at the ring, and then at me.
"So I should pick it up?"
He looked at me like an idiot. With a sigh, I placed the ring in my bag. I still had the quest, and I would never be able to complete it without the ring. I looked back at the painting. It had been silly of me to think it could have been a possession of mine. I wouldn’t dare touch the thing now, no matter how gorgeous it was. Sheathing my sword, I sighed at Dagon.
"Well, I hope you have fun... hanging out."
The man nodded. I looked around the cabin one last time and went for the door. The sound of the soles of my boots crunching on the glass could not match the volume of the silent stare I knew was directed at my back.
Discovering nothing in the remaining officers’ quarters, I ascended the stairs back to the deck. Ever since leaving the mage’s cabin, I had been thinking things over, but I had reached no conclusions beyond the obvious fact that the damned ring was somehow connected to the man trapped inside the panting. I would even bet money on the idea that everything that had happened on this ship had occurred because the stone was knocked out of its setting. I had thought the captain should have kept the valuable painting in his quarters, but now it made sense that the ship’s mage would keep it instead. He must have realized it was no ordinary painting. So why didn’t he keep it in his chest, then, instead of hanging it up on the wall? Was he a sucker for such fineries? Or was hanging it somehow safer? Nonsense! If he had sensed danger, he would have left the painting on the merchant’s ship and ordered the rest to do the same. He must have known - or thought he knew - how to deal with the painting. Like a grenade, it was likely quite harmless when handled correctly. And devastating when mishandled.
So where had the mage gotten the ring from? Had it been located in the silver box? Or did he have it from before the pirates had happened upon the portrait? If the ring had been in the silver box, the box itself should have been in the mage’s possession, too. Though perhaps the mage had thought the ring was safe and was just claiming it as part of his share of the loot. Not that it mattered now. So what did matter? That, I didn’t even want to think about. I had to remove the curse of "Keto" from this ring. Without destroying the ring. Who was this Keto, anyway? I stopped, opened the Chronicles, and cursed violently.
Keto: the goddess of the sea depths and the monsters living in those depths. Appearance, level, stats: unknown
Keto was no man. Far from it! I was getting mixed up with a goddess. Again! So, would she be glad when I removed this curse of hers? I rolled my eyes. It seemed to me that if I failed to remove the curse, I would be out floating on this ship until a good old age. It was the local Flying Dutchman, and Roma was its Hendrick Van der Decken. Sadly, there was no Cape of Good Hope in this world. Maybe if I waited a million years or so, the System would make one?
I shook my head. Taking a swallow from my flask, I continued on my way. Sleep was my first priority - the riddles would survive until morning.
Up on deck, I stood still for a moment, my face to the wind. Night had fallen completely, and the myriad stars strewn across the sky gave it the look of a huge, luminous dome of the ancients. The moon floated slowly above the water, which splashed gently on both sides of the ship as the ropes above joined their creaking voices to the serenade. Now I understood why men became sailors. Few could step out of their beds each night to behold such peace and beauty.
Time to sleep. I was still on edge - anything amiss would wake me. But sleep was a necessity. I made my way to the stern, spread my cloak down on the deck, and slipped out of consciousness as soon as I was supine.
When I woke, I was standing on the water. My inventory was unavailable. No weapons, and I was wearing the vest Treis had given me. A path of moonlight ran under my feet, bordered by an impenetrable darkness which also swirled about behind me. Guess I couldn’t go backwards, or left, or right. Not that I wanted to. Would I ever be able to get some damned sleep?! First the System hurled me into a floating coffin, then I was jolted by a painting, handed a cursed ring and its bloody quest, and now I had to go walking on water? Of course, I could sit here complaining until the second coming of the Water Walker himself. There was nothing else to do but comply. Nowhere else to go but forward.
I wondered if anyone had thought about how very possible it was to stand on water as long as that water was in a bog? The waves were short, a foot high at the most. They rolled under my feet, giving me the feeling of a kid on a carousel. But fun would have to wait till later. I looked up to make sure the sky and stars were still there, then shrugged and proceeded forward, trying my best to step on the crests of the waves as they came. I could have stood still to watch where all of this took me, but that was boring. Plus, I could think better when I was walking. Not that there was any particular thi
nking to do. No matter my thoughts, I couldn’t stray from the path.
Five minutes later, I noticed a girl coming to meet me. She rocked her hips smoothly as she walked gracefully along the waves. Her figure was perfect. Moderately wide hips, a narrow waist, slender legs. The moon hung behind her, so I was unable to make out her face, only her silhouette. Let’s get a closer look, then. Viewed from the side, we probably made quite a funny sight. Two people walking towards each other on the water. Or two humanoids, anyway. Even now, I often forgot that I was a demon. And I couldn't be sure what she was! I kept my guard up even though I felt no sense of danger. Not that my guard would help me if this being decided to attack me on a thin moonlit water path. Especially fighting without weapons or armor.
Once there was about fifty feet left between us, her eyes suddenly flashed crimson, and a beam as bright as a searchlight lit up behind me. Ugly growths covered her body and face, patches of scales grew from her flesh, and her mouth stretched into a monstrous grin. The beast walking towards me suddenly jolted forward, leaping on top of me. As grinning fangs flashed in the dark, I instinctively went to roll, and... woke up.
Hart! I took a couple of deep breaths, sat up and wiped the sweat from my forehead, and looked around. All quiet. Pulling my flask from my bag, I took a couple of deep swigs and shook my head. Nope, I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, after all. Lest I risked becoming a stutterer for the rest of my days.
Tossing the flask back in my bag, I rose, legs still trembling, and made my way towards the railing. Who could that have been? The answer seemed obvious. Keto, who else? Surely the goddess could intrude into my dreams, but why all the theatrics? Why not just come to me and explain everything normally? Although... What if the dream was a warning, and Keto hadn’t been behind it? Was something supposed to happen to me right now? If so...
