Locking eyes with the commodore, he noticed her expression turn from confusion and doubt to steely grit as her eyes lit up with some sort of idea. She clasped around his palm tightly, covering not only the sigil but the backside of his palm with her other hand as well. This killed off the light save for the lantern, but her straining against the forces that be was obvious on her contorted face. She clasped ever tighter and soon the pain from his metacarpals grinding together was more acute than even his searing hot palm. The smell of ozone filled the air. He noticed her hair beginning to smolder, followed shortly by her clothes with a soft hissing filling the room as smoke curled up around them. The smell was nothing short of terrible but Naurus was far too weak to even try to gag. The last thing he saw was tears of pain rolling from his commodores closed eyes as all faded to black.
Naurus felt awake, but he couldn’t open his eyes. He could hear the ship creaking, feel it rollicking around on the waves, and still couldn’t see anything. His hands found his face, then his eyelids. He pulled and pried, and with a crackling finally managed to force his eyes open. He pulled a crust of dried blood away from his eyes, blinking profusely to try to get his blurry and dried eyes to refocus. It slowly started working and he could finally see the room he was in. He quickly realized he was laying on the cot in the commodore’s quarters. The wooden beams on the wall were richly inlaid with silver and gold leafing. Tapestries hung on the wall depicting poets and prophets of old. Towards the other end of the room was a great table with maps and charts spread out across it. This was all illuminated by the sun pouring in through the windows that lined the wall opposite of Naurus, being on the stern most part of the ship.
He rolled and shifted around in the cot, feeling stiff as a board and completely drained. He had no idea what time it was or how long he had been sleeping. The door to the quarters was flung open, and in walked Morra. She didn’t look quite her usual self, which all became more obvious as she pulled up a stool and plopped down in front of him.
In her hands she held a bronze mug full of coffee as was apparent by the smell. She couldn’t even hold it still, her hands tremored just trying to lift the cup to her cracked lips. Her eyes were sunken and gloomy and in fact had even changed color to a strange violet-green. Crows feet and wrinkles cracked across her face like lightning. Also apparent was the singed and split ends of her eyebrows and hair which was nothing short of an organized chaos at this point, starkly opposed to her usual high and tight bun. Her skin was paler and almost jaundiced looking. She looked over Naurus for a few long moments as she struggled to keep the coffee from spilling in her trembling hands.
“I’m sorry…” Naurus croaked out, feeling as if he was breathing through a straw.
“I would hope so after last night. By the by, bleeding mascara is not a good look on you.” She said with a rasp.
“How is that guy—”
“The crewman who tried to carry you is fine. Shaken up, but he’s able to walk about again.” She cut him off.
“Permission to speak freely, commodore?”
“Granted.”
“You look like shit.”
She locked eyes with him at first dumbfounded, but then burst out in hoarse laughter. He joined in, finding the rapid jostling of his diaphragm loosening up his lungs and making it easier to breath.
“You really know how to woo a woman, don't you? I’m well aware of what you did to me. It’s only funny because I’m having trouble deciding if I should get a mirror to let you see how much of a plague victim you resemble.”
He was silent, debating if he should take up the offer, but never got the chance to say anything.
“However much you jest, the facts remain. Do you know what the punishment is for inflicting bodily harm onto an officer?” She suddenly grew stern.
Naurus didn't respond, all he could manage to do was sharply inhale and await his fate. She slowly and surely lost her composure, a smirk become a grin, which erupted into a cackle that shook some coffee right out of her mug.
"You should see the look on your face! Oh gods that’s too funny. Did you think I was being serious you fool?" She continued laughing. Naurus finally let his breath go.
"Uh...no, well yes...I don’t know. I can't think straight." He said trying to save face.
"Well one thing is for certain, you definitely would classify as wounded in action at this point. Here you go, your first ever commendation device!"
She produced a small metal rectangular order and pinned it on his lapel. It was rather simple, just consisting of royal blue with a line of crimson bisecting it. It was called the Order of Sacrifice, being awarded automatically to anyone was injured in the line of duty. It wasn't exactly an accomplishment, but it would add nicely to his collection of pins at home.
"Commodore, what actually happened last night? I was crying blood I guess, but after you grabbed my hand you started smoking up and I just passed out. What did you do?"
She pondered heavily for a moment, taking another sip. "Well I'm no sorceress or sage on these matters, but magicka is energy after all. That sigil was triggered by something and started flooding you with the energy imbued in it by its creators and of all those around you. It sucked the life right out of the poor sod who tried to help you, he doesn’t actually remember what happened at that! He thinks he hit his head, and that’s something we are just going to let him believe. What I did though is nothing special. I took a guess that by channeling the energy through me, I could disperse it in a different way and help relieve you of the build-up. If my constitution wasn’t hardier than yours, then I would probably be rotting on the floor next to you as well. The energy flowed through me and as you can see the results aren't pretty. This isn't the first mishap I've had with magick, and probably won't be the last. Most likely we will both rebound and look our normal selves again in no time!"
He nodded along, feeling relieved she didn't seem to take any of it personally. Remembering the events of the previous day, his curiosity got the best of him.
"Commodore, I wanted to ask you about your sword. It's clearly imbued with some sort of magick, but what have you named it? All the great fighters of old named their weapons, like—"
"No no, I think your mistaken." She cut him off, "It's a tool, an extension of myself. I haven't called it anything because..." She trailed off, seeing great disappointment wash across his face.
"Well actually yes! I forgot, it does have a name from my native tongue. I call it 'Am Shaegar'." She said with a smile.
"What does it mean? I've always wanted to learn something in the Ascended Tongue!"
"Well that’s for me to know and you to find out. I need more coffee, I'll be back." She smiled and left.
Damn! I thought she would be different. One day I will figure out what is so important about guarding the Ascended Tongue after all. Naurus mused to himself. Indeed, the Transcendents were very guarded about their culture and language and this was apparent to anyone of the common race from a young age. They would happily intermingle, but only at arm's length. A few sages and scholars of the common race could read and write the Ascended Tongue, which was basically a patois mashup of Elven, Dwarvish, and Common which made it exceedingly hard for most to learn without a willing and ready native speaker to help.
Naurus tried to roll out of the cot but felt sluggish and apathetic. His eyelids grew heavy again, and he decided it would be best to rest his eyes for a bit.
When he came to, there was much less light in the room. It was murky outside, with the lantern next to his cot providing most of the light. The first thing he saw was Morra hunched over her desk with the chest he found earlier sitting open on top of it. She rifled through the papers and documents therein.
"Well well, sounds like sleeping beauty is awake. And I thought I've heard some bad snoring in my time. Have a nice little nap?" She asked without even turning around.
"Yes, I feel a bit better. How long was I out?"
"Well let's see, about twelve hours at t
his point. Lucky for you we are almost back to the home port. You're well on your way to bed sores if you keep lazing there!" She turned around, still looking about as old and beaten down as she did before.
"Well let's see what I can do about that..." Naurus started.
"Oh before you limp off, here your Proof of Prize. Come back to the Military Commissioner's Exchange in a few days to get your prize payout and deployment pay." She said as she handed him a pewter coin engraved with the name and likeness of HRF Skywind and his rank stamped on the other side.
He groaned and creaked and joints popped all around and he finally managed to sit up and get his feet on the floor. Standing up almost cost him another fall as vertigo suddenly hit. That passed as he steadied himself against the wall. He slowly shuffled out to the main deck, wherein he noticed the sun was well past noon. The cool breeze was refreshing but he couldn’t help except to notice the odd looks most of his crew mates were giving him. He figured it was probably a good thing they were arriving back home soon, as he had no good explanation for anyone on that ship as to what happened and why. He just knew he needed to see Ektor and hopefully figure out a cure for good.
He fetched some coffee and biscuits, which helped him feel a bit less like a walking corpse. Soon, the sun was setting towards the horizon and the distant fog burned off, revealing home sweet home in the distance. He still didn't feel very steady on his feet and took a seat as the longshoremen and deck crew fastening all the moorings and dropped the gangplank. Naurus started down towards the dock but it was an embarrassing sight as he was barely able to keep his balance let alone go faster than a nice stiff limp. He felt someone come behind him and sling their arm around his shoulder to keep him steady.
"Easy there grandpa, we don’t need you falling overboard just now of all times." The commodore said as she helped him down to solid ground.
"Suffice to say you are medically unfit for duty until you have resolved this issue with your...hand. I will process you out under disability leave until you are better. I don’t even think you can make it home safely. We will have the Ambulance Corps take you home. Report back to me as soon as possible with updates." She said mutedly, trying to not let anyone else overhear.
She flagged down a horse drawn ambulance cart with a wooden bed floored with straw matting. It wasn't a luxury coach but it sure beat walking for now. Once he was loaded up and told the teamster where to go, he enjoyed the ride and nearly fell asleep again.
"And 'ere we are! Off ya go sir!" The teamster's announcement jolted Naurus back from his half sleep.
He bumbled his way off the cart and made his way into the house. The first thing his eyes saw when he opened the door was the beaming, shit eating grin of his father sitting at the kitchen table as he looked up from his newspaper. That look on his father's face only meant one thing: he was just in that mood. He hadn't even had time to take his boots off before the first salvo hit.
"Nice order of the rat turd you got there son! Whatcha do, stub your toe to get that?" His mother's staccato laughter echoed from within the larder.
"No dad, I—"
"Well get your damn boots off and get over here. You're just in time for bacon and egg fry up. Breakfast for sup, your favorite! Why are you walking like that? You constipated or something? You look like ass, did you set a new record for fastest onset of scurvy or something?"
Instead of attempting to answer the flurry of questions, Naurus plopped down and did his best to recount the events of the last few days. His father's expression was mostly indifference, until he got to the part about the ship that attempted to capture them.
"A letter of marque? In our waters? What complete and utter bell ends. Idiocy like that could only stem from baby faced land lubbers who only see a pretty payday and get convinced its easy money. Seeing that you returned, I'm guessing you got the better of them, eh?"
"Well yes...we captured their ship and several of their crew including what I guess you could call their captain." Naurus replied.
"Ah, my boy saw his first so soon. Back in my day serving the empire, nobody with a brain stem would dare to so much as even sneeze on one of our ships. It doesn’t surprise me those Ostragan assholes would try to get privateers to do their dirty work. That cursed nation was hatched from a cannon ball. All they want to do is fight anymore. We should have never trusted them as part of the empire."
"Is that why the empire broke up, dad? They just saw us as soft because we preferred peace to fighting? At least that's what all those books keep telling me."
"No son...it's very complicated to say the least. Its best that you just don't dig too deep into it. Long story short there were some disagreements that it appears might be coming back to bite us in the ass. You'll figure it out if you are ever in the position to need to know. I won't waste anymore breath on those traitors. Ah curse the old gods, what I wouldn’t give to get back to the good old days when everyone just got along..." His father trailed off in nostalgic thought and went back to his paper.
"Well dad, we captured their ship so that means prize money!"
"Mhm, that’s nice. You can get yourself something shiny now, or maybe just float your liver like your old man."
Indeed, Naurus could rarely ever pry much about the Astranian Empire from his father. It had broken up around fifty years ago, but his father seemed to remember an awful lot for something he only spent couple decades of his life in. Not that it mattered though, his father had a shady past he painstakingly kept under wraps as was obvious by these sorts of talks. Prying further only angered his father, so he learned at a young age to clam up or get tanned by a rawhide strop time and time again. After the meal and a nice mug full of tea, a wave of drowsiness washed over Naurus again.
He made his way back up to his room and settled into bed as the blackness of night filled his window. Rain pitter pattered against the window, a house wife hen pecked her husband rather loudly down the street, and Mokhey bullied his way onto the bed with a loud chirp and curled up next to his owner. All was right with the world.
Road to Perdition
Naurus knew without the shadow of a doubt he wasn’t dreaming anymore as he heaved the furry boulder off his chest. He still felt a bit off, but for the most part he was back to his usual self. First mission of the day was to see Ektor. As he got up to get some clothes on, he noticed an envelope on his desk that wasn’t there last night. On close inspection, it was rather thick and heavy and in fact was sealed with a prominent wax stamp bearing the insignia of the Immortal King. There was no return address and only his name and address were written on there in impeccable cursive script.
Confused and still half asleep he went ahead and popped the seal open to read this letter. Inside a piece of paper was folded up. He opened it up and read it after rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It said:
To Naurus,
You have hereby been summoned to officially appear at the King’s behest. This is urgent and confidential. You are to travel as instructed as quickly as possible. You are being watched to ensure you comply. Failure to do so will be punished swiftly. This paper you hold in your hand will serve as a letter of safe passage to gain entrance to Arx Fatalis. Show this paper to the guards at the entrance and they will escort you in. I look forward to making your acquaintance.
Best Regards,
The Right Hand
Naurus scratched his head and took a few deep breaths trying to make sense of what this meant and why in the world the Immortal King himself would bother with someone as lowly as he was. This has to be a prank. The Right Hand? Who’s hand? Makes no goddamn sense at all were among the thoughts swirling in his head as he considered confronting his father with the letter. It dawned on him that if the letter was in fact real then letting his parents know may not be the best course of action. The handwriting on the letter was far too smooth and precise to be his father’s chicken scratch or his mother’s blocky childish writing. He decided then and there to play it safe and show it to Ektor instead. No
it’s not confidential, but that old kook won’t tell a soul he mused as he got himself ready to head out and see what nonsense this letter even meant.
Turns out both of his parents were absent that morning, so he didn’t need to say anything to them at all. The fog outside cast its ominous pall as the morning light struggled to bleed through. He made his way down to see Ektor and rapped his pale knuckles on the thick wooden door of the athenaeum. Soon enough he heard the lock crank open and door slowly creak inward as a friendly old face popped out into the light. Indeed, this was the only face Naurus really wanted to see right now. The old man led him upstairs to his private quarters once again, but it was quite a mess up there. The smell of alchemical precursors and reagents hung in the air, stinging the throat and nose of Naurus as he coughed and wheezed involuntarily.
Across the table and desk were scattered a well-used accoutrement of alchemy apparatus including an alembic, a retort, a calcinator off in the corner, along with a mortar and pestle to top it all off.
“Sit, sit! I have just what you need! I’ve been hard at work recreating that anti-magic decoction. It’s been quite a pain in my ass but I did it.” Ektor gloated proudly as he handed another handful of vials to his favorite bookworm. The slurry still looked just as unappetizing as before much to the patients chagrin.
“Thanks. Also, before we talk about anything else, this letter just showed up on my desk this morning. I think it might be my parents pulling a fast one on me or trying to prank me. They weren’t around to ask in any case. What do you think?”
Shadow Kingdom Page 10
