Heroes of Time Legends: Murdoch's Choice

by Wayne D. Kramer

  His vision flashed, and a moment later he was in a different plaza. He identified this as Sharm Square, built within a massive crater and the center of the kingdom’s capital city of Miskunn. All around a towering central rostrum were thousands of stone-faced citizens. Humans, mostly, but also with a scattering of grimkins and anthropods…and one thing more.

  Gathered amongst these civilian races were the white, wispy apparitions, this time with a bit more form. It signified, to Zale, that they had gained status in the civilization—a greater acceptance of sorts, perhaps a legitimization—as something undead now gaining vitality. It was horrific in every sense, like their vitality had come at the expense of the people and would for all generations to come.

  A single figure stood upon the central rostrum, dressed in the full splendor of royalty and riches untold. The person’s face was concealed within the darkness of a cowl.

  All the populace revered this person. All hung on his every word. “Is this the king?” Zale asked.

  Boomer shrugged. “Dunno rakaka.”

  The man in the center spoke, raising his arms up high.

  “Amidst your certain doom, I am your savior! Where the lineage of kings has failed, I shall prevail! Even as the Light weakens like a guttering candle, fear not!—for I bring a new light…a light of the beyond…an Antilight, and with it shall be a greatness of purpose such as the Light of Eloh, who has forgotten you, could never achieve…!”

  And the masses, their faces devoid of all emotion, were made to bow to him in reverence.

  Zale’s mind spun as he found himself back within the chamber of the Grimstone. He felt cold all the way to his bones, and a shiver crawled up his spine because of the visions he had just seen.

  “The writing said we had walked in the past,” he said quietly. Boomer watched him with wide eyes. “That was the Shadow Age we walked through to get here—the past. What we just saw…it said that was what comes last. Could that be…the future? A possible future because of the Grimstone?”

  The wall to his left let out a great rumble, like the turning of millstones. The words that had been there before were gone, replaced by something different:

  “Now, Macpherson, thy namesake may ye claim;

  The Grimstone sought for virtue, fortune, or fame.

  Is this my true treasure, this thing they call mine;

  Or is there one greater that we’ve left to find?

  Untold riches and power now can ye take;

  My greatest treasure I must no longer forsake.

  Unto thy hands the Grimstone we entrust;

  Knowing its potential, do with it what ye must….”

  Another torch kindled on the wall, this time showing a rather crude picture of an adult man holding the hand of a young girl. Beneath it were the words: “Behold, the Treasure of Macpherson.”

  Zale cracked a smile. “It seems old Macpherson was also a family man. With the Grimstone secured away, perhaps he went on to retire.”

  “Yee,” said Boomer thoughtfully. “Hu-hum kaka pup rakaka.”

  “Yeah,” Zale replied gently, “a human pup.”

  The translucent orb faded. Remaining atop the pedestal was the cylindrical object, the protection of Zale’s ancestors now removed.

  He approached the pedestal and looked down at the cylinder, which was about the size of a common building brick. The scenes he’d just lived replayed in his mind.

  “If what we saw can be considered reliable, then this object could shake the very foundations of my kingdom…maybe even far beyond that.”

  Boomer looked back at him and gave a slow nod.

  “But if the Light of the Land is truly fading, and this can save it, then it seems this thing is not only valuable but essential.”

  He thought back to the crowd gathered in the capital city, bowing to their new ruler. “And yet, if by saving the Light civilization is turned into subservient zombies, what kind of a future is that for my daughter, or my grandkids, or anyone?”

  Zale had never felt so morally conflicted over a bounty during the entirety of his long, successful career. For any other job, it was at this point that he would have just grabbed it and run, making haste back to their client for delivery and payment. This job, by now—and really right from the start—had become more personal for him than any before.

  “Old Macpherson probably intended this,” Zale said. “Make you question your motives for taking it, and maybe you’ll think twice about proceeding.”

  He grabbed the cylinder, looked it over, and gave it a shake. “This is just a casing,” he said. “There are words here underneath: ‘DARK OPENS DARK.’”

  Zale scowled. “All this way, and I still can’t get to the actual Grimstone. It’s always one more step away.”

  He didn’t dare try opening it by force, assuming that could only make things worse. After a moment, though, he couldn’t help but smirk.

  “This must really be my ancestor’s doing,” Zale said. “Only a true Macpherson would pile on failsafe upon failsafe in such maddening layers.”

  He found a secure pocket for the cylinder within his coat and stuffed it inside. “Come on, Boomer. Let’s get out of here.”

  Even though they knew what to expect, their walk back through the Shadow Age manifestation was just as unsettling as before. They jumped at every plume of darkfire off the path. They flinched at the flashes of lightning against the inky clouds. That still didn’t prepare them for the icy remains of a human skeleton that floated down the stream just as they arrived.

  Likely yet another deterrent of Macpherson’s, Zale told himself.

  It was disturbing just the same. They crossed that stream all the more carefully and made quick steps back to where they had first arrived.

  Soon they arrived back at the pond of dark water through which they had arrived. Zale moaned about having to enter it, but he also didn’t want to remain in this place another minute. They jumped into the pond, sinking into its blackness, and the undercurrent took them.

  As hoped, they emerged back into the sweet, wonderful, natural light of day. They climbed out of the shadowy grass, as though it were water, and pulled themselves onto solid ground.

  Boomer immediately rolled about in the grass and dirt like a dustbathing dog, chittering in ecstasy.

  “Boomer! We don’t have time for that! Quickly, now, back to the ship!” Boomer stared up at Zale from the dirt, seeming in no particular hurry to move. “Boomer!”

  “Rakakaka!” Boomer spat, springing to his feet. He bounded to a nearby tree and peed on it.

  “By the Light, I swear you’re more a feral critter than an anthropod,” Zale grumbled. They moved on, Boomer cackling from behind.

  Zale saw his ship sitting peacefully in the river as they emerged from the woods. He saw no one moving about the land around the ship and frowned.

  “Hmm,” he grunted. “I suppose they’re all onboard and ready to go. Well and good, as we need to put this land to our backs posthaste.” He looked down at Boomer. “You’re sure you want to stay with us, right? We’re bound straight for Tuscawny.”

  Boomer nodded fervently. “Yee, yee. Tuskee, rakaka!”

  Zale observed a great many burnt and exploded patches in the ground all around the riverbank. The evidence of significant action here was only more intense the closer he got. Much to his relief, he saw only the bodies of grimkins and Gukhanians scattered about and none from his crew. Of course, it was possible that any casualties had already been taken onboard the ship.

  It seemed that most of the cadavers, particularly the grimkin ones, had been gathered and lined up in a rather strange fashion.

  “Things definitely got hairy out here,” Zale mumbled.

  He looked up at the Queenie and scratched his chin. All of the upper decks were completely empty. He felt a great sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Something seems amiss here.”

  Cautiously they walked up the gangplank. The ship itself didn’t appear damaged in any way. It
was quiet…eerily quiet. His boots clomped loudly upon the planks of the deserted deck. He drew the saber from his side.

  His cabin was empty. The galley and officer’s cabins were empty.

  “Dear Eloh,” he gasped. “Starlina!”

  He moved as fast as his legs would take him into the deck below. The berthing deck, with all the rowing benches and crew hammocks, was totally unoccupied.

  He continued farther, into the hold, to the makeshift quarters of Evette and his daughter. It was, as the rest of the ship, completely empty.

  “No!” He slammed his fist into a support beam.

  They returned to the main deck, hoping for some clue of what had happened. It didn’t take long for Zale to notice Fulgar’s dagger stuck in the mast with a parchment pinned to the wood. The words of the page read:

  Captain Murdoch, for you to see this letter, you must’ve returned to the ship. I know you hold the key to retrieving the Grimstone, if you don’t have it already. I wish to reach a settlement with you. Pull the cord.

  —Captain Rummy

  Then he saw it, small with distance but unmistakable. Seadread’s ship, moored down the river.

  Zale found a thin rope draped over the portside railing. He yanked it. A tiny plume of black and purple smoke rose from beneath the rail, and then a sudden brightness filled his eyes from the land below.

  The violet flames of darkfire were unmistakable. The corpses that had been arranged below ignited, and their arrangement became instantly clear. Amongst the death below, words came alive. They were like a fire in his retinas, kindling the rage that stirred within.

  “CREW OR GRIMSTONE,” the words spelled.

  Shortly after, more words appeared below this, not out of bodies but upon the ground.

  “MURDOCH’S CHOICE.”

  From these words more flames erupted, creating a trail of fire going away from the ship and into the west, in the direction of the mountains.

  “If Seadread thinks my crew will be held easily against their will, the old fool’s got another think coming.”

  He glanced down, and the novidian anelace greeted him with a faint white glow.

  Beyond the ship, his eyes followed the darkfire trail as far as they could see. With one last look at the luminous dagger, he stowed it in his coat. He drew a deep breath and smacked the rail, knowing what had to be done next.

  “Come on, Boomer. Let’s go get our crew back.”

  As the grimkins dragged Jensen and his mates roughly along, the brightness that had been sunlight eventually faded into darkness. The ground beneath became rockier and bumpier. The sacks they had been captured in were of a strange stretchy substance, which could not be simply ripped or broken. He was surprised at the ease with which the grimkins pulled them without any beasts of burden to aid them. Perhaps it was something about these strange sacks that made it tenable.

  Jensen was yanked from his sack to the sound of much yelling and cursing from his crewmates. They had been taken into the large, cavernous expanse of a cave with a ledge high above an underground lake.

  Jensen emerged ready to fight, but that urge evaporated at what he saw. Three grimkins each held a captive member of the crew: Evette, Rosh, and Starlina. Cutlasses were pressed threateningly against their throats.

  “Try escapee,” one of them hissed, “and we killee.”

  “Starlina, it’ll be okay,” Jensen told her.

  The grimkin holding Starlina screeched at him, its horrible sound echoing throughout the cave. It pointed up to the ledge above the lake. “Go!”

  There the entire crew was bound together from their shoulders to the ground in lengths and layers of netting and rope, so tightly that they could barely move their arms and legs. Even worse, the grimkins tied more rope around each of them individually, binding their arms to their sides. Evette, Rosh, and Starlina were added last.

  “Are you all right?” Jensen asked. Starlina had been placed beside him.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Just a little flustered.”

  Seadread strutted toward them. “Well, well…all of Murdoch’s crew in a nice package. What a position I be findin’ myself in, hahaha!”

  “Rummy!” shouted Dippy. “You’ve gone utterly mad! The guild will not take lightly to the disappearance of an entire crew!”

  “You’ll be the prime suspect,” said Yancy. “I’d lop off your head, if I were them.”

  “Ah,” said Seadread, “but yer not, and as far as the guild is concerned, the unfortunate crew of Murdoch sailed through fog into a mess of sea stacks, ne’er to be heard from again.”

  “Sea stacks?” asked Rosh. “We’d never make that mistake, especially after the Korangar incident of 3202.”

  “Why are you debating this?” hissed Evette. “He wants to drop us into an underground lake!”

  Seadread cackled with his dry voice. “Here I was all prepared with an army, while Murdoch’s got none other than his usual bunch of crook-kneed barnacle munchers! And two females to boot!” He came around the netting until Starlina was in his view. “What’s this young poppet for, a bit o’ entertainment? Come now, lassie, do ye sing? Do ye dance? Might be I’d have a place for a nice wench aboard the Iron Mermaiden.”

  Jensen swelled with wrath. “Back away, you black-hearted traitor!”

  Starlina stared directly into Seadread’s eyes with a look of pure loathing. “Not even in your dreams, you wretched filth.”

  Seadread shrugged. “Suit yerself. What happens next will all depend on yer ever-so-cunning captain.”

  “Captain Rummy,” said Fulgar, “you have no idea what you’re dealing with in the Grimstone. Even to hold it is a danger to you, your ship, our land, and any other land in which it dwells. Its evil is unfathomable.”

  “Yer words mean nothin’ to me. All we’ve to do now is wait for yer dear captain. Please, do stick around for when he arrives.” Cackling all the more, Rummy descended the ledge.

  Kasper, who was situated between Evette and Starlina, struggled about to move his arms. “Evette,” he whispered urgently, “there’s a tiny dirk in my beard. Can you get to it?”

  “You mean that’s for real? I thought that was just a rumor!” said Yancy.

  “It’s for real, tied up under my chin. Can you get to it, Evette?”

  “And just how am I supposed to do that?” Evette asked.

  Rosh made a chomping motion with his teeth. “Try biting it.”

  “Are you crazy?” Evette hissed.

  “Anyone else have any way to cut us out of here?” Kasper asked.

  Negative mutterings answered him from throughout the crew.

  Evette groaned. “Ooh, I should’ve stayed in the fishing guild. Where is it exactly?”

  Kasper tilted back his head. “In the backside of my beard, just below my chin, one slipknot tied around the hilt. It should come out with a firm enough tug.”

  Starlina pressed herself tighter into Jensen, a disgusted look on her face. “I’m glad he didn’t ask me to do that.”

  “Light’s bane,” said Jensen with a quiet laugh, “that must’ve been difficult to get in there.”

  “Well, go on!” urged Miles.

  “Yeah, I want to move my arms again,” added Yancy.

  “Okay, I’m going!” Evette spat. She tried to position herself around the underside of Kasper’s beard. “You do wash under here, right?”

  A few moments passed. Evette’s mouth groped awkwardly within the thick black and yellow hairs. “I think I’ve found it,” she said.

  “Well, can you bite it?” asked Jensen.

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?” she spat. “Do I…do I smell flowers?”

  Kasper shifted uncomfortably. “I comb my beard with oils.”

  “You mean, like, rose oil?” asked Rosh.

  “Lavender,” Kasper said, “most recently.”

  A wave of hushed snickers chorused throughout the crew.

  “Oh, the things you’re forced to admit in captivity,” Yanc
y said.

  “That’s…nice,” said Evette, still from under Kasper’s chin. “But this thing is tiny, and…ugh…there’s so much hair!”

  “You’ve gotta really chomp it,” Rosh encouraged, “but also real carefully, so you don’t lose it.”

  “Hey, just kiss her already, man!” Wigglebelly said from somewhere behind them. “Huhuhu!”

  “All of you just shut up!” Evette said from within the beard. “I think I’ve almost got it.”

  Evette grunted with effort, while Kasper clenched his teeth in pain. Finally, Evette emerged. The smallest dirk Jensen had ever seen dangled from her mouth. She let it go and caught it in her hand.

  “There.” She slapped it into Kasper’s hand. “Now, you finish the job.”

  Wigglebelly chuckled.

  Somebody nudged the great oaf. “Ow, what?” he yelped. “I’m just glad she found the little thing, man.”

  “A pyre out of their own dead comrades—that’s messed up,” said Zale.

  He and Boomer followed the trail of darkfire, careful not to touch it. It led them in a mostly northwest direction, toward the mountain range in the distance.

  “I’ve heard stories about certain grimkins of Akkadia who believe it’s an honor to receive cremation by shadowy flames. Before now I never would’ve taken that so literally.”

  “Yee kaka. Sha-sha fir burrr,” said Boomer, mock-shivering.

  Zale nodded. “Yes, shadow fires are cold.” He smirked. “Despite your best efforts, I’m actually starting to understand you.”

  They arrived at the mouth of a cave just as the landscape transitioned into rolling foothills. The burning trail continued inside. Their path was covered in the darkfire’s eerie, flickering purple light.

  “Keep alert,” Zale said quietly. “They could be waiting to spring a trap.”

  Soon the cave broadened, getting wider and wider, until it was downright cavernous. It was here that the trail of dark-fire ended.