A Monk's Tail

by Kyle Spencer

  “There’s a common misconception,” Edward begins before taking a long guzzle of his drink, “That the Other Side is all ghosts and gloom and sadness. But it ain’t bad, boyo. It ain’t bad at all. Remember that. Now you get goin’. And we don’t want to see you two back for a long while.” Another long gulp. “But when you do come ‘round again, we’ll have two seats saved.” A wink and a raised mug sees us off. But before I can clear the doorway, “Oi! Lad! One more thing: Do you happen to know a Captain Saltana?”

  “Rings a bell.” I catch his wink and smile back.

  “Ah, she’s a tempest in a teacup.” He nods. “You tell her that Blackbeard sends his love. And also stay the Hel away from me treasure! BAHahahaa!!!”

  His laughter bounces over the empty boardwalks as Archy and I make our way back to The Kelpie’s Tail.

  Heartbreak

  “Power is nothing without the wisdom to wield it. And wisdom is nothing without the power to make it manifest.”

  - Isana von Zerfallen, during one of her daughter’s lessons

  “You look tired, dear.” I gently stroke Ubel’s face. He looks more than tired. He looks old. His usually jet-black hair is dull and scattered with salt. His paws are thinner than I remember, thin and knotted like the grasping limbs of a tree. He sways at the bow of the ship, ready to topple over at the next strong breeze. Heavy black bags sag under his piercing eyes as they gaze over the uniform grey that melds sea and sky together.

  I put a comforting arm around my husband. He slumps against my breast, heaving long ragged breaths. Maintaining the myriad undead thralls that work this ship for this long would have killed a lesser mancer. And it will eventually kill him too if we can’t find fresh life soon.

  “Is it that bad?” Ubel smiles wanly as he reads my face. I nod.

  “Let me take over for a while.” I know he won’t like the offer, but at this point the fatigue might have broken through his stubbornness enough for him to accept. Still, he shakes his head.

  “We both know you can’t handle them for too long.” Unfortunately, he’s right. I’m no slouch, but my husband is much, much more powerful than I. “And besides,” There’s a glint in his misty eyes, “I don’t want you looking like me now.”

  “Just for the night. And it’ll be the bare minimum - a skeleton crew.”

  Ubel huffs once. If he’s too tired to appreciate puns then the situation is more serious than I thought.

  “Okay, okay,” He holds up a paw, “But after the shade returns.”

  “And when will that be.”

  “Any...second...now…” Ubel snaps his fingers and on cue the shade of the former sphynx pops up from below deck in front of us. Immediately a strange sensation washes over my entire body: the painless pins and needles of a limb falling asleep. It pulses in my arms and legs and hums in my chest.

  It’s shadespeak. And what is numbness in my body is a flurry of language in Ubel’s ears. It’s another benefit of using shades: only the one who created the shade can hear it speak. Everyone else just experiences a strange prickling.

  Ubel nods a few times and snaps his fingers again, sending the shade away. “Alright. Time for bed.” He takes a few staggering steps towards the captain’s quarters, stumbles, catches himself on the remains of the captain, and continues on. As the door closes behind him the entire crew crumples to the ground. A few fall from the masts, landing with loud cracks that shoot jagged bone through frayed skin.

  Taking a deep breath I brace for the first invocation and the…unpleasantness that follows.

  Everything has a cost. The cost of using necromancy to bring back and control the dead is the forfeiture of a certain period of your life, depending on what is being done. It is a common misconception among most people - even most mancers - that this loss of life feels like dying. They think necromancy is akin to being stabbed to death or torn to shreds or drowning.

  They are wrong.

  Dying doesn’t feel like ‘dying’, as most believe. Yes, the ways in which death is brought about can be quite painful, but the act of dying itself is not. We know. We’ve asked. In fact, according to some necromancers who’ve been brought back for certain...purposes, dying is the most gentle, painless thing one can ever do, much like falling asleep. The feeling one gets when using necromancy is much worse than dying and much more painful.

  It feels like heartbreak.

  And as I stand there at the bow of the ship controlling the energies of ten undead thralls, the tears begin to flow freely down my cheeks.

  Knuddlebär, my beloved wolpertinger from childhood, lies dead in my arms.

  My husband, no more than fifty feet away in the captain’s cabin, is not asleep in bed but lying in the arms of another.

  Our manor is burnt to smoldering ash, along with everything inside it.

  My daughter has forsaken her family and her duties, bringing the end of the von Zerfallen line and everything my husband and I have sacrificed for.

  I am alone. Alone on this ship. Adrift on the endless black waves of The Void. Damned for eternity. Damned and alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. A-

  “Liebling?” Something gently shakes me. I blink tears out of my eyes and let myself collapse in my husband’s arms. I can’t control the sobs, I don’t even try to. Soon enough they’ll pass. Ubel simply holds me in silence until I can stand on my own again. “Get some rest, my love.” He resumes his position on the bow.

  “You need more rest.” I sniffle. He doesn’t look tired anymore, although the age is still there.

  “We are close.” He’s focused now, going through the inner torture that I just endured. How he goes for so long is beyond me. His face betrays no emotion except once when his mouth curls downward in a pained frown. “We are very close.”

  I don’t go to the cabin. Instead a coil of rope becomes my bed. My eyes never leave my husband as the various clacks and groans and squishes of the crew - a necromancer’s lullaby - add weight to my lids. I don’t fight it and let the slow drift of the waves send me off to sleep.

  Empty waves...black waves...waves of The Void…

  The Kelpie's Tail

  May a curse befall whoever find this treasure. May your ship sink, your crew mutiny, and your teeth fall out of your head. Except for you, Gita Chakrabarti. You already be cursed enough, my dear.

  - Inscription on Blackbeard’s buried treasure chest

  “Captain!” The voice pierces my brain like a stiletto made of annoying. “Two of them are awake! Captaaaaiiiinnnn!”

  “Ugggghhhnnnn stop…too loud.” I groan. My throat is almost swollen shut and my mouth tastes like fish pee. A large fuzzy lump stirs besides me.

  “Ugh...why is someone yelling in my head?” Archy lies in the hammock to my right. One lid opens to reveal a severely bloodshot eye. His dark blue tongue, parched and cracked, tries to moisten equally dry lips to no avail. His barrel chest rises and falls in a stutter as he tries to keep his breath from going ragged.

  “Jeez Archy, you look like shit.” My laugh sends fire racing through my chest and stomach.

  “You don’t seem to be doing much better.” He laughs back as I wince.

  “Nothing a little grog can’t fix. Now I know I heard someone down here just now so where did she...oh.” Sand grinds in my neck as I turn to my left.

  Laying on another hammock lies Aami, eyes closed and arms folded over her chest. If I didn’t know better I would say that her lips are curved up in a serene smile.

  “Can you move my friend?” The room rings with a solid thump! as Archy rolls off the hammock and onto the floor. I’m helped to my feet and steadied by his two enormous paws under each arm, much like how a parent supports their cub as they try to walk.

  “I’m okay, really. Pretty sure I can walk on my own. Dammit I said I’m okay! Listen! There’s people coming down and this looks ridiculous. Will! You! Put! Me! Down!” Slapping Archy’s paw is like slapping a brick; both will hurt your hand and yield no results. Of course, just as Saltana rounds t
he corner the big doofus releases me. And of course now that I’m not expecting him to do so I collapse to the floor.

  “Glad to see you two are up and well.” There is absolutely zero humor in the otter’s voice.

  “How long were we out?” Archy doesn’t miss a beat.

  “Five days. You’re friends took care of you for most of them.” She motions to Susi and Talia as they join her. All three of them look like they’ve been awake for the entire time. Ignoring us, the captain walks over to Aami and places the back of her paw on her forehead. “Any change?”

  “None, captain.” Another crew member walks in carrying fresh towels. I recognize the voice as the one who was with us when we woke.

  “There’s not going to be.” I say after a few moments. Saltana sighs; she already knew before I told her. She whirls around and walks past us again. Reaching the stairs, she points a finger at me.

  “You.” She glares. “My quarters. Now.”

  “Just me?”

  “I’m assuming you’re the leader of this Hel-cursed troupe.” She spits. Everyone just looks down at their feet and shrugs. Saltana nods and curls her finger, beckoning me to come.

  I follow a few paces behind her up onto the deck. Meeting me is a fierce breeze and that same wall of grey.

  “Still stuck in the middle of the typhoon, huh?”

  “We escaped this fucking storm just a couple hours ago.” The grapefruit glow of the setting sun to my left proves her story. “Just as we hit the eye wall the firs time you and Aami were flung overboard. You two were stuck down amongst the fury of those waves for a few minutes before your professor friend noticed and pulled both you out. Unfortunately just as he did one of the beams broke off and struck him in the head. We tended to you for three days while making repairs. Well, that nun and the child tended to you. On the fourth day we couldn’t wait any longer and broke through the hurricane. After fastening you three to your hammocks, of course.” She closes the door to her quarters behind us. “Have a seat. And now here we are. You and your friend are awake and the only one to die is a member of my crew. Now - Here. This rum comes from Pomology Bay. It’s a penal colony but damn can they make good liquor - Now, since I’ve let you four on board my crew has been attack by legendary bat assassins and braved freak hurricanes. And so far I’ve lost ten sisters. So I just have one question for you: Is there one reason, any reason, why I shouldn’t have all of you thrown the fuck overboard and be done with you?”

  Pondering her question, I take a long sip of the rum. “To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t after the whole bat thing.”

  Saltana fights away a creeping smile. “You’re bad luck. And an asshole. But you’re a charming asshole.”

  “Thank you. It’s pretty much how I’m still alive today.”

  “And it’s how you’ll stay alive.” Saltana sighs. “I don’t think my crew would throw you lot overboard if I ordered it on threat of keelhauling.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Really, really glad.

  “And from here on out it's a straight shot to the Shimmering Isles. Unless there’s more...unexpected surprises. And knowing you…” She finishes her rum and shrugs.

  “Fingers crossed.”

  “Fingers crossed…” She pours herself another and dismisses me with a wave. “One more thing though; the price is doubled. I’m billing you for loss of life and emotional trauma.”

  “Duly noted.” That new fee will suck us dry of our very last coin, but it could be worse. Something pops in my mind as I turn the doorhandle. “I know you may not want to hear this right now, but Aami is okay. She’s in a good place.”

  “What?” Saltana growls. She certainly did not want to hear this right now. Keeping her growing rage in check she breathes in deep. “Care to explain?”

  “All I can say is that Blackbeard sends his love.”

  Saltana rocks back in her chair as if I shot her in the chest. She talks like it too, “Say that again.”

  “I said Blackbeard sends his love.”

  “There’s no way you could know about that-”

  “I told you Aami is in a good place.”

  “...You’re dismissed.” She says while fighting off tears.

  “And he says to stay the Hel away from his treasure.”

  “Hah! I’d like to see him try and stop me.” Saltana barks a sniffling laugh. She continues laughing as I close the door behind me and walk over to the railing to admire the sun’s last valiant effort against the encroaching night.

  Made in the Shade

  “Never play hide-and-seek with a Necromancer. They always cheat.”

  - Malfier the Maelstrom

  “Tell me about the Shimmering Isles.” Susi flicks a splinter off the railing at a school of flying fish. The waters below flash with slivers of cobalt and white as the fish jump out of the water, catching the noon sun as they glide along the side of the boat. The spectacle draws most of the crew to our side, where they cheer and whoop at the dancing streams of quicksilver below.

  “What do you want to know?” I say in between laughing and cheering with the otters.

  “I dunno.” She shrugs. “Anything I guess. If I’m going to be staying there a while I figure it’d be nice to know.”

  “Well, it’s way too damn cold in the winter and way too damn hot in the summer. But Spring and Fall are the best two weeks of the year.”

  “Not helpful.” She giggles.

  “Then gimme something more specific.”

  “Are there a lot of people like me?”

  “Smart-ass little mausen? I think you’ll be the first. Ow! Tender shin!”

  “I meant…” She glances at the crew around us to make sure no one’s looking and pulls just enough glove off to just show where fur ends and bone begins. I cock an eyebrow. Does she mean mancers or Necromancers? She crinkles her nose and mouths ‘mancers’. I reply with a nod and the ‘oh, yes!’ face and she lights up. “Really? What else?!”

  “The land itself tries to kill you. There’s typhoon’s, earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, spiders the size of your face and - ow, shit! - and it’s all just wonderful.” I rub the back of my head where Talia just smacked it.

  “I think you’ll love it there.” The firefox nun smiles. “And you’ll have me to show you around.”

  “Don’t forget the food.” I add. “寿司 is pretty much the best thing ever.”

  “What’s sushi?” The maus asks eagerly.

  “Raw fish and rice. Don’t make that face. It’s actually really good. And sometimes it comes with wasabi, which is a ground-up root with the sole purpose of making you cry.”

  “Are there tarts or ice cream?” Leena asks a bit too loudly, turning some of the crew’s heads our way.

  “Did…did your chain just talk?” One of them asks.

  “Of course not.” I try and laugh it off. “And to the amazing ventriloquist that asked that question: yes, yes there is ice cream and tarts.” The otters go back to watching the fish while Leena gives a very quiet ‘Yayyyyy’.

  “Lunch is ready!” Cooky yells up from below.

  “It better not be curry again!” I yell back. A few of the others snicker.

  “Actually its a delightful cucumber avocado caprese salad followed by baked herb fish fillets and strawberry frozen yogurt for desert.”

  “Wow. Really?” I ask, wiping away a bit of drool.

  “Nope. It’s curry.”

  “Godsdammit Cooky…”

  ***

  “...And that constellation there I call The Other Dancer.”

  “You’re weird.” Talia roll her eyes at me.

  “Yeah, I get that. But yet here we are. Under a blanket of stars. A romantic blanket. Just the two of us…”

  “You’re also an idiot.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh, “I get that too.” It was worth a shot.

  “So,” She says after a few minutes of staring up at the sky, “What do you plan on doing when we get back home?”

  “That’s a
good question.” I scratch my chin. “I guess I haven’t really thought a lot about it. In case you haven’t noticed I’ve been flying by the seat of my robes for a while now.”

  “I got that feeling while running from zombie nuns through the catacombs.” She smirks.

  “I still maintain that was your idea. And frankly I’m surprised you followed me this far.”

  “I’ve got my own reasons for heading back.”

  “Your father.” I say and she nods solemnly. “The legendary general. No, don’t give me that look. He’s called ‘The Emperor's Justice’ for Hel’s sake. I’m pretty sure when you earn a name like that, ‘legendary’ is an acceptable term.”

  In fact, legendary might not be a strong enough word; General Ryusei has accrued many, many titles, names, and nicknames over the years. And for good fucking reason: not once has he ever lost a battle. Or even come close to losing, for that matter. And when notorious bandit warlord Fuma Kirigami started a rebellion on the southernmost island of Nichinan, who was sent to stamp it out? The flawless campaign that Ryusei led that Spring is what earned him the title of ‘The Emperor’s Justice’.

  “And,” I continue, “your father, the legendary general, sends you away with no explanation other than it's the best way to keep you safe. From what, apparently only he knows. And now all of a sudden you want to go back?”

  “I just got this bad feeling that something happened.” She folds her arms over the railing and lays her head in them.

  “So you’re going back on a hunch.”

  “I don’t think you of all people should be giving me shit about hunches.” She snaps.

  “I...okay, shit, yeah. You’re right. But there’s got to be something else to it.”

  Talia’s chin sinks further into the crook of her elbow. “There is…”

  I don’t push the subject. I can see the thoughts swirling in her head, waiting to coalesce in the right way.

  “It’s not like he sent me off without some way to contact me, you know? I mean, he couldn’t send me letters, not even coded ones. Someone might eventually notice the slow trickle of paper going across the ocean to one specific little convent. But my father devised a way: silk. You know how Shimmering Silk is prized the world over, right? Well, my father pulled a few strings to get shipments sent to Aquarian. I would simply go to the warehouses under the guise of getting goods for the Sisters and sneak a look at the manifest as I signed things out. There was always one crate unlike the others. The color of the silk indicated the situation back home; blue meant calm, red meant danger, that sort of thing. Patterns - if there were any - gave greater detail. The number of bolts of silk was the number of weeks until the next message.”