Mottar looked at Amahl questioningly. “You allow women on your ship?”
Amahl let out yet another of his grunted chuckles. “Of course we allow women on board. We bow to no man or superstition. Plus they are very nice, are they not? Life is to be lived and enjoyed my friend, because it does not last that long. And if you have the means… why not?”
Another woman came in carrying a cask of wine. She was dressed as the others in a thin colorful gown and jeweled chains of gold about her neck. Amahl smiled at the raven haired beauty, saying, “Isbetha, my friend Mottar here shall be sleeping with you tonight. I do not believe he has ever shared the company of a woman before, so see to him well, my sweet.”
“As you wish, O Prince,” said Isbetha as she bowed her head.
Hasahn nudged Mottar with his elbow. “Lucky man.” Then he looked to Isbetha, saying, “I will bring him to you when we are finished here. Now get your asses out of here.” Hasahn jumped up, chasing the women out of the room and slapping them on their posteriors with the flat of the gladius. The girls giggled as they exited. He turned back into the chamber, remarking, “This has very good weight and balance, Captain. But I think I still prefer a curved blade.”
Amahl walked over to Hasahn, taking the sword from his hand. “I saw a man wield two of these expertly once,” he said, admiring the blade. “I have now but to find another so I can try to master his technique. But look at the chart, Hasahn.”
“By the stars!” yelped Hasahn. “We know where this cluster of islands is. We have been just off its shores before.”
Kaleeb then entered the chamber, door still standing open. In his arms was the armor of the Arcanian that Amahl had slain, which he placed below the hammock. “What are you barking about now, Hasahn?”
“Your mother’s terrible cooking,” Hasahn quipped back.
Kaleeb ignored the remark and headed directly to Mottar. Kaleeb was dressed in clean banded leather armor with a thigh length blue tunic underneath. A new bandage was about his wounded arm. “So you are Mottar,” he said, eying the man up and down. Kaleeb was the smallest of all the buccaneers, and standing together made Mottar almost appear as a giant. “I am Kaleeb, second mate to the Prince. As long as you stay alert and do what we say, we will have no problem. Understood?” Mottar shook his head in affirmation as Kaleeb continued. “Good. Now tell me, are all north men as big as you?”
Before Mottar could answer, Hasahn bit again. “Everyone looks big to you, Kaleeb.”
“Shut up, dog,” snapped Kaleeb. “I’ll have you swabbing the deck tonight.”
“I would eat your mother’s cooking before swabbing a deck for a mangy cur like you,” said Hasahn, smiling as he tossed Kaleeb a piece of fruit.
Hajish then entered the room, closing the door behind him. “Thanks for waiting for me, mates.”
Hasahn jumped back in the hammock, looking at the chart of human skin in one hand while holding a piece of fish in the other. “We have learned to get an early start before you have a chance to devour it all.”
Amahl whistled sharply with two fingers in his mouth. “Listen, lads. Hasahn, the Arcanian’s cuirass looks as though it would fit you. It is yours. Kaleeb, the bracers are for you since you like to use your arms as shields.”
Amahl stood up and handed Hajish a full goblet of wine. “We have the treasure map of the pirate Skulpa. By my calculations, with fair weather, we can be at Skulpa’s island in four days’ time. Hasahn will chart us a corrected course by the stars tonight. So here is to Skulpa and his treasure. May it be as vast as legend tells.” He raised his goblet and drank. The other men did likewise, except for Hasahn, who was still studying Skulpa’s map in the hammock.
“Can any of you make out these squiggly marks on here?” he asked.
Hajish looked at Amahl. “And this is whom you wish to pilot your ship?” he asked. All began to laugh at the puzzled Hasahn.
“What? What did I say?”
* * *
The weather did not cooperate as hoped. It was not until the sixth day when the Seventh Son finally reached the isle that was noted on the map as the hiding place of Skulpa’s treasure. The lookouts scoured the western shoreline for the bay described on Skulpa’s chart. The shores of the isle were comprised of cliffs and clusters of grey and black jagged rocks jutting out of the waters. Eventually an opening in the cliffs was discovered: an inlet, between cliff faces, that fed into a large bay with a beach of silt-like sand.
Hasahn expertly maneuvered the Red Corsair’s galley through the narrows and into the bay where he easily grounded the bow of the ship into the soft sand of the beach and dropped anchor. Two gangplanks were extended down to the beach from both sides of the bow. Kaleeb and some of the corsairs speedily disembarked and established a defensive line along the beachhead. A lookout from atop the galley’s mast watched intently across the jungle tree line just beyond the beach.
After Kaleeb and the lookout gave the “all clear” signal, two hunting parties were dispatched to seek fruit, game and fresh water. Meanwhile, Amahl assembled another search party on the beach with Skulpa’s map in hand. The group consisted of six archers, six shield bearers with spears, and ten men at arms all equipped with swords, torches, lanterns and several small casks of oil to replenish the light sources. Each corsair also carried a water pouch and food enough for three days. Hasahn, Hajish and Mottar were also assembled for the expedition. Amahl charged Hasahn with leading the archers while Hajish would command the others. Amahl and Mottar took the forward point position of the party.
It was mid-afternoon when Amahl’s expeditionary party set out to the south along the beach heading toward the cliffs. Along the way Mottar kept grabbing handfuls of sand and examining them. The Aiser was still scantily clad, but with newly made leather loin covering and sandals with leather strapping around the calves.
Amahl observed the large woodsman’s ax Mottar carried with him. “I offered you the pick of any weapons in my armory, and this is what you choose?” asked Amahl.
“I have no experience with curved blades, my lord, so the choice seemed to make sense,” answered Mottar.
Amahl let out a half grunt and laugh. “We will have to teach you the ways of the blade, my friend. Or at least get you a better looking ax.” The two men laughed together as they continued along the beach.
It was dusk by the time the party reached the cliffs where the beach ended. Amahl motioned the men to halt, saying, “We shall camp here tonight, lads. According to Skulpa’s directions, we are to follow this cliff face inland to the east till we reach a cave. Then a lengthy trek in the dark from there. No wine tonight, men. I need all alert and able in the morrow.”
The night passed without incident, as did the early morning trek into the jungle along the cliffs. By mid-morning the group had come to discover the cave entrance within the cliff face. After oiling the lamps and torches, they were lit with flint and steel and the party entered the cave mouth.
The cave was dank and damp and much cooler than the temperature outside. The light from the torches and lamps caused eerie shadows to dance about upon the walls and ceiling. It was like a natural tunnel, winding and weaving through the rock with the width varying as the corsairs slowly and cautiously proceeded on. “Always to the right hand path,” exclaimed Amahl as they passed other openings and passages along the route.
With the passage narrowing to the width of two men shoulder to shoulder, Amahl stopped and remarked to Mottar, “Do you smell that? It’s the smell of sea water. By my best reckoning we turned back to the west long ago and are now within the belly of the cliffs well out beyond the beach.”
Mottar put finger to mouth as if to request silence. After a moment he said, “I thought I heard something like water splashing ahead of us. How would one come to find such a place as this?”
“Obviously Skulpa had a taste for exploring and adventure,” answered Amahl. “This is something I can understand. Does not this whole journey make you feel alive?” Amahl slow
ly pressed onward with the Aiser at his side.
After a short distance the passage opened up and the group’s flickering lights shone upon what appeared to be a vast chamber with a very tall ceiling. The smell of sea water flooded the nostrils of all as the sound of water slapping the rocks emanated from all around. With the rest of the party filing in behind Mottar and their captain, the torch and lantern light illuminated the cavern even more.
Before them was a very large circular pool of water with a diameter the length of four galleys. They could faintly make out the rocky shoreline on the opposite side of the pool as their firelight gleamed its reflection off the water.
“My lord Amahl,” said Mottar, pointing his torch at what appeared to be a natural path along a ledge to his right. “You said the right hand path, did you not?”
“That I did,” answered Amahl. “Lead on, man.”
Mottar took the point, carefully navigating the ledge with Amahl and the others all close behind in single file, circling the outer edge of the pool. The ledge opened up to a large flat area of rock that had a smooth surface.
Mottar stopped abruptly. “We are not the first here, my lord.”
Amahl stepped up beside Mottar and saw a large stack of aged timber of the type that could be used to build a campfire. Underneath the pile of tree limbs were the remnants of another fire that had burned long ago. Amahl pondered for a moment. “Interesting,” he said.
After dispersing his men to either side of Amahl and Mottar, Hajish joined them, inquiring, “What do you make of it, my Prince?”
“It appears that someone intended on returning and did not,” answered Amahl. “Throw some oil on it and set it aflame. Let us have a better look at this place.” The fire was lit and as the flames grew, so did their field of vision throughout the cavern. It had a dome-like ceiling forty men tall. The pool was almost perfectly circular except for a small peninsula of rock that jutted out from the cavern wall into the water almost directly across from where they entered.
“Captain,” said Hasahn. “Upon that finger of rocks I think I see something.”
Amahl strained his eyes, trying to see clearly in the flickering light from the fire. “What is it?” Amahl asked. “What do you see?”
“It looks like material from a sail, or maybe a flag.”
Amahl looked at Hajish and then Hasahn. “Give me two spear bearers and two swordsmen. Have them bring torches and lanterns. Mottar and I will investigate. You two, stay here with the rest of the men.”
Orders were followed and Amahl, Mottar and the four corsairs walked towards the base of the rocky cape. “I have never dreamed of a place like this,” Mottar exclaimed.
They reached the water’s edge at the base of the rocks extending into the pool. Amahl reached down into the water and brought his fingers to his lips. “Definitely sea water. There must be a tunnel beneath the cliffs connecting this pool to the sea.”
Amahl led the way as Mottar and the four other men followed him onto the rocks of the promontory. In the center of the cape was part of a ship’s sail that was covering something beneath it. Amahl unsheathed his tulwar from its scabbard and used it to carefully lift a part of the sail. He peeked under it, then let the canvas drop, saying, “Remove it, lads.” Mottar and the corsairs obliged by drawing back the material, exposing a large stack of chests brimming with gold and silver coins as well as jewels and gems sparkling in the fire light. Weapons of all kinds from different lands lay in a pile amongst the cache of riches. A long moment of silence passed as the six men stood in awe of what had been unveiled. Amahl sheathed his tulwar and bent over, picking up a silver goblet from one of the chests. He spoke solemnly. “My faith in legendary tales has been renewed, mates. This Skulpa was obviously a hero amongst pirates.”
Mottar lowered his torch over the pile of weaponry. He placed his woodsman’s ax down and picked up a one handed battle ax from the assortment. The ax he held was expertly crafted with a glaive-like hand guard. The grip was wrapped in leather and small sapphires were crafted into the edges of the pommel. The other buccaneers seemed more interested in the chests as they raised their torches and lanterns to have a closer look.
Amahl turned and yelled out victoriously to the remainder of the party at the large campfire. “Hajish! Skulpa’s treasure is ours.” The words reverberated throughout the cavern. Just as the returning cheers from the men at the fire resounded, the water erupted at the tip of the rocky cape. Before Amahl could react, something large hit him with massive force, knocking him down onto his back. The silver goblet flew out of his hand but he still retained the torch. Amahl raised the burning torch in front of him as he scurried to his feet, seeing the legs of one of the corsairs kicking to and fro, at eye level, but where the man’s torso should be were the jaws and face of a large serpent-like creature with a neck three or four men long protruding out of the water. A spray of blood shot out of the monster’s mouth as it gulped down the rest of the pirate’s body.
The face looked like an eel with tentacle-whiskers on each side of its nostrils. The creature’s jaws were large enough to hold three men inside. Its greyish-blue skin was scaly, but more reminiscent of a snake than a fish.
Amahl quickly drew his tulwar and screamed, “Fight or die, mates!” He lunged forward, stabbing the torch towards the monster’s face. He was joined by a corsair with shield and spear on his left and Mottar on his right. Mottar swung his newly found ax in an overhead arc, embedding the blade in the creature’s neck right below the head. He ripped the ax out of the wound and a stream of dark red ichor spewed onto him. Amahl, upon seeing this, yelled, “If it bleeds, we can kill it.” But the injury did not seem to faze the monstrosity. It lurched its head towards the men, snapping its saber sharp teeth at them. All three of the men narrowly dodged the oncoming jaws. Without hesitation Amahl once again jabbed the torch into the face of the creature, followed by several quick blows to its head with his tulwar. His blade cut through the snakelike skin but met bone as well. Even though the strikes drew blood, they seemed to have little effect on slowing down the monster.
The serpent-like thing recoiled slightly from the flame of the torch and Amahl’s attack but then, with fast fluid movement, dove back towards the men. Once again Amahl barely escaped the snapping jaws and laid two more blows to the head. The creature thrashed its head back and forth viciously, knocking Amahl and Mottar off their feet.
The other three pirates stepped forward, attacking with spear and sword. Two of the corsairs jabbed their spears into the face and neck of the horror. The other struck with his scimitar and then brought his lantern crashing down upon its head. The lantern broke into pieces, spreading oil and flames over the head of the beast. With fire dancing about its face and eyes, the abomination raised its head high above the combatants, letting out a shrill hissing sound. At that same moment the water erupted on both sides of the beast. Amahl and Mottar regained their feet as two more serpent-like heads, identical to the first, rose out of the pool on each side of the original. One could now see part of the creature’s large blue and grey body as it rose up further from the water and onto the tip of the cape. All three necks were conjoined to the same body.
“By Ymir, it is a sea hydra!” yelled Mottar.
Another of the corsairs screamed out, “It’s Skulpa’s magik demon.”
“Nonsense!” roared Amahl. “Magik does not bleed.”
The hydra’s center head, still aflame, flailed about as the two other heads attacked the men on the rocks. To Amahl’s right Mottar picked up a straight short sword from the pile of weapons and ran like a berserker at the head nearest to him. The monster’s jaws opened wide and in an instant clamped around the man with the scimitar. As the hydra’s jowls snapped shut blood sprayed into the air, leaving only the man’s severed legs upon the rocks. Just as the hydra head swallowed, Mottar leaped onto the back of the beast’s neck, driving the short sword to the hilt into the flesh of the terror. Straddling its nape, Mottar hung onto the sword and b
egan ferociously hacking away at the back of the hydra’s neck and head. The monster reacted, raising its head up, violently trying to dismount the Aiser. Mottar clinched his muscular legs around the thing’s neck while hanging onto the sword, continuing to deliver blow after bloody blow with the ax.
To Amahl’s left the other newly risen head swooped in to strike. The two remaining corsairs, both with shield and spear, stabbed furiously at the hydra. The force of the thing’s attack was too much to be reckoned with. One of the men was sent sprawling backwards onto the rocks while the other stood firm, trying to block the creature’s jaws with his shield. Alas, the defensive move proved ineffective as with a snap of the hydra’s teeth, the man’s arm was bitten off at the shoulder. The hydra swallowed the arm and the shield together. With each heartbeat of the wounded corsair, blood pumped in a stream from his shoulder. “I hope you choke on it!” he screamed in both agony and anger. With his last bit of strength the brave Tarranian threw his spear with all his might at the hydra’s face. The last thing the corsair saw before he fell dead into the water was his spear protruding from the eye of the hydra.
Amahl, taking advantage of the moment, dropped his torch and leaped to the water’s edge, attacking from the blind side of the beast. Wielding his tulwar in both hands, the Prince delivered a powerful blow deep into the neck of the hydra. The monster’s neck and head crooked around so it could see its assailant with the one good eye. Seeing Amahl it rose up, jaws open, preparing to attack, just as a half dozen arrows sailed through the air into the neck and head of the monstrosity. The hydra reacted instantly, turning its head in the direction the projectiles had come from.
Like a raging bull Hajish came running onto the cape, yelling, “The eyes, Hasahn, the eyes!” Hasahn had moved his archers up to the edge of the pool and they were now rapidly firing arrows into the sea horror. Hajish ran out beside Amahl with lit torch in one hand and a small wooden cask of oil in the other. “Behind me, my Prince!” he yelled. As Amahl retreated Hajish hurled the cask of oil, shattering it upon the rocks. Tossing the torch onto the oil soaked rocks, Hajish drew his scimitar as he pushed Amahl back from the flames that were now blazing up between them and the hydra.
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