by Brad C Baker
“Found what?” Vlados leaned forward in his seat. Crallick straightened.
“The answer must be in the Malefecorum.” Wanda stabbed a finger at the text in front of her, then resumed reading, “The Malefecorum is a sacred tome that was scrivened by the archdemon of death. Imari, the handmaiden of Chessintra, instructed that with the slaying of thirteen pure souls and the incantation therein, one could wrest control of the greatest of servants to be bent to your will for a time.”
“For a time?” scoffed Crallick. “How long does the life of thirteen virgins buy you?”
“I don’t know,” Wanda said.
“Who would do this?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated.
“Then what DO you know?” Crallick growled, pacing in front of her desk.
Wanda rose, placed the two Chessintran volumes in her rucksack, then grabbed a turquoise lacquered volume and put it in as well. She opened a cabinet and withdrew a rapier on a belt from a peg. “I know that whoever has your daughters, has the Malefecorum. I know you are dealing with a devout Chessintran. Only the most schooled in the theologies would have even heard of the book. I know you are in over your head here. And, in conclusion, I know I am coming with you.”
Crallick opened his mouth to protest.
“Don’t waste your breath, Cral. You need me, your daughter needs me, and you’re smart enough to figure this out.”
Crallick’s shoulders sagged visibly, “How long do you need to get ready… and thanks.”
“We’ll meet outside shortly.” Wanda left them sitting in her office as she ran down the hall searching for the mother superior.
The pair found Hullaboo lounging in the Flowwe temple’s pool. The two mounts were drinking, and Hullaboo was swimming. After collecting the frolicking Froggle and waiting on their mounts for a short while, Wanda joined them.
“Oh, my goddess,” her hands flew to her mouth. “You never told me you were travelling with a froggle. I’ll get a second mount from the stables then.” Her mirth was barely contained.
“Something wrong?” Hullaboo asked.
“A lot,” Crallick simply replied.
Wanda returned with a pair of horses and she led one over to Hullaboo. “Here, you may ride this one.”
Thanking her profusely, the froggle leapt into the saddle. Thus ready, the group headed towards the western gate of the city.
Chapter Five
“Vita I, Mortani, dwarf and man all fought hard
Amarallan and goblin kind where just as fierce
Heroes and clashes provide matter for the bard
Then three dragons, the Bannathyr lives, did pierce.”
Verse 6: Ballad of Ser Crallick Carnage-born.
At the market square that made up the west gate of Crossroads, Wanda pulled up short. “We should rest up first. It’s almost eventide, and we have a two tenday ride to Marahaven.”
“No, I don’t think that is wise,” said Vlados. “We already wasted too much time figuring out what we were up against at the temple.”
“No, Vlados,” Crallick countered to Vlados’s surprise. “She’s right. Also, any time we have lost today, we can make up on the road over the next two tendays. We need to rest while we can. The road can be hard on folks.”
They detoured to a small cottage style inn to the south side of the Western Gate. The next morning they rose with the dawn and got underway with a Spartan breakfast. The road held drizzle and a coat of clouds for most of the day. That evening, after setting a twelve-hour ride behind them, they got as comfortable as they could under an increasingly heavy spring rain. Hullaboo seemed to be happier the wetter the weather became. For the rest, they camped in sullen silence.
The next morning had them wolfing down a cold breakfast, then setting out under a grouse grey sky. The following three days likewise held varying shades of grey and degrees of dampness for the travellers.
The piercing rays of sunshine greeted them as they rose for their fourth day of riding. As the blue chased scudding clouds across the sky, Crallick grumbled, “Well, there goes our advantage.”
“Huh,” snorted Vlados, “leave it to ye to find a rusted lining after a cloudy day.”
“Think about it, my friend,” Crallick mounted up. “They are fleeing us, not realizing that they are. They are dragging wagons. Wagons go slower through bogging tracks along the road. Mud is our friend in this matter. Now it will dry up.”
“Yeah, well so will my undershorts,” grumbled Vlados.
“Don’t feel so bad,” smiled Wanda. “Crallick was just as dour a long time ago. I also prefer riding in the sun.”
“I like the rain,” Hullaboo said.
The troop rode with Crallick pretty much keeping to himself at the head of the column by about twenty to thirty horse lengths. Then Wanda and Vlados rode side by side, and Hullaboo pulled up the rear. There was little of interest along the Royal Road as it ran through the civilized lands of the Kingdom of Bannathyr.
There was plenty of time to get to know each other a little better. They spent the rest of the tenday sharing stories. Vlados was an innkeeper and a really good barkeep. Wanda hadn’t always been a sister in the church. She knew Crallick from back in the day. No, nothing romantic. She had been an exotic dancer to supplement her income while she attended the bardic college of history in Marahaven. She became a treasure hunter and that was how she knew Crallick. Yes, he was an honest to goodness knight. He had always felt she abandoned their group’s calling when she took her vows and left for the church. Vlados’s wife was back in his home town. Their daughter and Crallick’s were fast friends. He missed the mining community of Vein-Crag.
These tidbits and more were shared as they rode hard after their prey. The nineteenth day had the Spires of Marahaven come into view. They were riding into the shadows of the capital with still an hour of mounted travel while the sun began to set behind the city. This lent a slightly more foreboding image to the city than necessary. There was nothing sinister about the city itself, just that the jagged dark spires seemed to splay groping dark fingers across the land with the dying sun.
They could taste the tang of salt in the air as they rode closer. There was a sweet undercurrent of decaying fish meat to go with the slightly more pungent waft of rotting seaweed.
Crallick sighed, “I’d hoped I’d never have to see this place again.” Half turning in his saddle, he caught Vlados’s attention. “Once inside, you go get yourself a good crossbow and whatever other supplies you think you may need. Get Hullaboo a weapon of his choice, and armor as well. Wanda will come with me dockside to secure our prey. Understand?”
“Sure Crallick,” Vlados furrowed his brow. “Why are you taking Wanda to such an unsavoury part of town? Won’t that be risky? Would she not be better off coming with Hullaboo and meself?”
Crallick barked out a short laugh. “What do you think Wanda? Got your purse? Want to go shopping?”
Shaking her head she replied, “Crallick, you really are an asshole.”
“Language,” Crallick mocked.
To Vlados, Wanda said,”I’ll be fine, remember that I knew Cral way back. Also, I wasn’t always a good girl. I know my way around the docks of a city. I’m good at finding things out and taking care of myself. Don’t you worry your mohawked head about me.”
They rode up to the liveried and armored men guarding the gates. One grey-haired human glanced up from a table to the side and exclaimed, “Crallick! Crallick Oakentree?” Rising up from his seat, he added, “Well as I live and breathe, it is you! How are you?”
Crallick squinted, “Horace? By the six creators, how did you even recognize me?”
Horace snorted, “You may be greyer and more wrinkled than when I last laid these peepers on you, but that sword, mail, and attitude are all you!” Horace laughed, “Man, it’s good to see you. What brings you?”
“Some Chessintrans stole our kids for some shite-smelling ritual,” came the short answer.
“Shite
,” breathed out Horace. “Sorry to hear.” Then to the approaching seargant at arms, he added, “They’re fine. I’m admitting them on my authority.”
The city guards fell back, then turned their focus on some more travellers approaching the gate.
Crallick and his companions followed Horace off to the side. “Have you admitted a group of armed men, around twenty to thirty in number?” Crallick asked once they were out of earshot of the others at the gate.
“Not today,” said Horace.
“Yesterday?” prompted Hullaboo.
“I was on the south gate yesterday,” Horace said. “But let me check the records.” Horace took several moments of poring over numerous sheets of vellum that made up the lined ledgers from the prior day. The volume itself represented the current week. Horace stabbed a finger triumphantly at a page. “Here! I’m sure this is it!” Then he read, “On the 27th of Hannois, during the eighth hour of the day, there came to the eastern gate a company, numbering eighteen in all. In possession of Amarallan trade documents, legally in possession of four slaves, all young females. Two possible humans, one dwarf, and one nekomin. In their party were fifteen men at arms, two reptilemen drivers, and one Chessintran Mage. Upon declaration of their business, they did so declare they were late from Jherrin to catch their ship home.”
“Well, that tells us three things,” Crallick grinned viciously. “First, they lied about both their origin and their destination. Second, they’ll be only a few hours out of port due to the tides. And third, Horace the guard still doesn’t know shite about Amarallan trade counterfeits.”
“Well, other than your criticism, pal,” Horace grinned, “I’m glad I could help. Good luck and goddess speed.”
“Thanks,” Crallick led the rest of his troop into the bustling, colourful gate market. Turning, he addressed Vlados, “This is where we part ways. Watch your purse.”
“All right,” Vlados creased his brow in a bemused chastisement. “I’m sure I can handle a cut-purse or two.”
“Crallick grinned, then mounted up, saying, “Who’s worried about them? I’m talking about the children.” With a clicking, he rode off towards the sea.
“He’s right,” Wanda told the shocked Vlados. Then she too rode off, heading after Crallick.
Crallick dismounted and hitched his horse to the tethering post by the side of Warehouse Road. Wanda replicated the action a few moments later, and joined Crallick. “Ready for this?” she asked.
“I was born…” Crallick glared. “Shite Wanda, why do you even ask?”
Smiling good-naturedly, Wanda patted his ass, “’Cause I almost had you. And one day, you’ll slip.” She began to wind her way through a throng of cavorting street urchins.
“Women,” Crallick cursed to himself. Then he began to follow Wanda towards the seedy line of taverns and inns that lined the dock front.
Wanda had selected a blue-walled wooden building that rose over the docks and the water. It was actually three stories, although only two were visible over the level of the docks. The third story actually just skimmed the surface of the water. The Porpoise’s Pleasure was the only building built on the docks proper, and not on land. Its other distinction was that of a bawdy house. Wanda entered the eastern facing main doors, stepping onto green carpet. This entry was strategically poised to provide a grand view of the entire bottom floor at a glance. This presented a very stunning view, as not only the pretty and lithe dancers grabbed the attention of those coming in, but the lead glass floor upon which they danced gave the illusion of dancing on the waves themselves. Arranged in tiers climbing away from the sunken stage were carpeted drinking and dining levels, where patrons could slake their thirst with any number of potent potables and could satisfy their hunger with either the catch of the day or seasonal dishes. Female companionship would wander these tables seeking to take lonely sailors to private booths, or to an upstairs boudoir. A fairly comely bard used illusory spells to augment the lighting for her musical performance that had the nude dancers writhing suggestively to set the mood for the establishment.
A hulking bouncer of some human-goblin bloodline rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “Wanda? Wanda Swells?” Then laughing, “As I floggin’ breathe, it is you! What brings you here? Jerreth will be happy to hear of your return.”
“Whoa there Thogg, I’m just a patron tonight. I’m looking for a fast ship and some information, that’s all.” Wanda put her hands up admonishingly.
Thogg nodded thoughtfully. “I know of four Captains in here tonight. You cozy up to the bar…” he gestured to the bar that ran off to her left, “and I’ll set up a booth for you. I’ll bring any interested parties to you to negotiate.” Thogg glanced around, “You bring any muscle, or you want me to guard for you too?”
Wanda cracked a sweet smile. “Oh Thogg, sweetie, you don’t need to worry about me. I have protection. And more than just what is on my hip.” She patted her rapier.
Thogg scoffed, “That toothpick? Nothing more than a utensil to clean the shite from me boots. Who is your help? So as I don’t accidentally bar his or her entry.”
“Oh, you would remember him as soon as you saw him,” Wanda coyly demurred. Then, as instructed, she headed over to the bar.
Thogg went and cleared out a booth usually reserved for private dances that offered both privacy and a clear view of the stage and exit. After hanging his ‘reserved’ rope across it, he made a few rounds of the privateer, pirate, and smuggler captains he knew were there. The merchantmen captains he ignored, because if ol’ Wanda was looking for a fast ship, then clearly she was up to no good. After she was set up and her security was in place, he would go up to Jerreth’s office to let him know what was going on.
Crallick strode into the Porpoise’s Pleasure and his nose was immediately assailed by the stink of human sweat, female sex, soured whiskey, and shitty beer. He, even as a drunkard, had been spoiled by Vlados’s fine ales and meads. Damn, that dwarf could brew. His memories of the place flew back into his mind. The intoxication of the night his crew had celebrated their triumph. Their elation of the plans to adventure after the war. The guilt of his cheating dalliance with the young human dancer. All these memories flooded back as a ghostly voice haunted his eardrums. “Crallick! Crallick Oakentree! What the demon brings you here?” Thogg’s voice grated Crallick out of his reverie.
“I see you have yet to build that manor house and retire,” Crallick observed coolly.
“I see time hasn’t made you prettier,” Thogg retorted. “Why are you here?”
“I’m with Wanda.” Crallick’s eyes challenged Thogg.
“No shite,” Thogg mused. “Well, let me set you up here. You can see her clearly there. How is that?”
“Fine,” Crallick agreed. “This will do nicely.” Crallick set an arrow on the bar and handed his bow to Thogg. “Keep her strung when you put her away,” Crallick warned, rather than requested.
“Of course, Crallick, no problem.” Thogg placated. “I remember your trick. It’ll be ready for you.”
Wanda looked at the first captain to show his face at her booth. A grunt, a spit, and a “No way. Women be a worthless curse on the sea,” ended the interview before she could even say ‘Hello’.
The second, rather bloated man to grace her booth pinched his gut over the table, pushed up dirty bronze spectacles over his bulbous nose, and with a sniff announced, “I am Captain Steffan Jackman, the Stormy!” Then with a trickle of drool that slathered down the left side of his limp lip, he added, “You may find that some seafarers have no interest in taking women as either crew or passenger. I just want you to know…” his bald head inclined slightly as his eyes greedily drank in her curves, “I share no such qualms.”
“Heh, heh.” Wanda chuckled nervously. “Well, that is very nice to know. I’m looking for a very fast ship.” She thought his ship would surely travel faster if he were overboard. Then in a chastising voice inside her head, she reprimanded herself with a ‘Floowwe would not approve of s
uch attitudes’. Instead, she smiled and asked. “How many masts?”
“Two my dear, unless you count my personal mast.” The belly rumbled the table. “Ho, ho, ho. We run a light and shallow draught.”
“How soon can you make ready?” She bore through a salty stench that she was certain was not the sea.
“Day after tomorrow, my dear. We are berthed three docks down, slip nine, the Stormrunner.”
“Thank you, I’ll consider it.” The stench was becoming nauseating.
“Wish to discuss terms?” Steffan pushed.
“I’ll consider it, then get back to you.” Wanda huffed, trying to breathe through her mouth, which only caused her to taste the stale, sweat-laden air.
“If you’re concerned about price, we can negotiate on services,” he leered.
“I’ll consider it, and I assure you, I am not pressed to exchange services.” Wanda’s hand tightened on her rapier as she denoted the tone of finality in her voice.
“All right then,” Steffan sweated profusely as he hauled his mass out of the booth. “I’ll discuss fares with you dockside then.” Turning to face her before he left, “Adios my lady fair.” Then he lumbered into the crowd.
Wanda flashed her hand out of the booth. A waitress glided over. She crinkled her nose, then spritzed some perfume to guise the lingering scent of the Captain. “May I get you something?”
Wanda, wishing she hadn’t taken her vows for just moments, asked for water with a lime wedge. “No, no gin or vodka, thank you.”
Whisking her wish away through the crowd, the waitress was eclipsed by a Reptileman of no small stature. His scales were a series of blue hues with yellow striping over the side of his head. Loose, yellow cloth hung from his corded torso and arms. Cowhide breeches that were customized to accomodate his tail completed his outfit. There was a rich blue sash that tied a cutlass to his hip. Wanda liked the reptileman immediately.