The Chronicles of Crallick

by Brad C Baker

  The aquan who had skewered the evil mammal who travelled on their ocean from behind, carefully turned his weighted spear to the edge of the ship and dropped the body for the jellyfish to clean up. His mate popped his bony palates together three quick times, letting all who spoke aquanni know that they held the forecastle.

  Underneath their drama, the lone sailor on the starboard bow deck frantically batted away blow after blow. He ducked low under one spear thrust, rolled backwards under the rail to the main deck, then grabbed the spear that followed him, twisted it violently, and stabbed at the aquan head that followed the point through the rail. Thus trapped, the aquan was helpless as the blade carved up under his jaw to seek out its hindbrain. The aquan convulsed spasmodically as his grey matter became acquainted with the curved cutlass. Then the aquan stilled. The sailor, holding his own wounds, cried, “Help me mates! I’m almost done!”

  His voice carried over the starboard main deck. There, Vlados was scratched on his right thigh whilst kicking away a thrust of a coral spear. “Back off me, ya fishy lummox!” he bellowed in rage.

  Help arrived from an unexpected quarter. The lookout charged from the mainmast, where he had finally completed his swift descent. Barreling into the aquan’s right side, he crushed it against the rail. All could hear the splintering bones. They noticed the panicked flapping of the aquan’s lower jaw. Blood seeped out of the gill slits around its neck.

  The aquan trying to crush the life from Toby, instead, found a vine had trailed around his own gill-covered neck. It crushed the gills closed, causing him to lose his strength. He released Toby, instead grasping at the bindings choking the life from his own body. Crallick kindly solved the suffocating aquan’s problem by decapitating him. The body slumped to the deck. Crallick sardonically noted to himself that it was beginning to smell like a fishmonger’s cart. He could really go for a fish and crisps. A coral spear tip lancing towards his right flank jolted him out of his reverie, as he was barely able to deflect the point away from his head. All the same, it carved a series of nasty furrows that wept furiously up the length of his left arm. At the top of the stairs, in the melee, was Wanda. With water-like grace, she swished past a spear thrust, taking her a stride closer to the top of the stairs. The overbalanced attacker fell victim to her merciful counterattack. She plunged her rapier into its eye. There was only a little resistance as the tip skidded along the back of the orbital bone before popping with a sudden release through the hole for the optic nerve. The brain behind provided no resistance at all. The only trouble was, the aquan was dead on its feet, but didn’t quite realize it yet.

  Raquel, disarmed of her blade, was frantically reloading her pistol. She looked up just in time to see an aquan lunge forward, spear zeroed in on her throat. “Fuck,” was the last word to pass her lips as her trachea and jugulars were sheared from her throat with a bubbling scarlet deluge that caught even Wanda in its spray. As blackness overtook her vision, she forced her quivering hand up for one last shot. Raquel couldn’t tell if the roaring in her ears was the blood draining from her head, or the roar of her pistol.

  On the aftcastle roof, the sailor heard the fate of his captain. Damning it all in a heroic effort to save the day, he ran across the roof to leap into the air and, sword outstretched, plummeted towards the murderer of the captain. Sadly, though, he misjudged the distance and ended up falling tragically short, burying his sword into the kidney of his swooning captain. Looking up he saw the blank face of the aquan menacing him. Shite, his day couldn’t get any worse.

  Mr. Tritts continued his carnage, leaping onto the next aquan before he could even turn his spear towards him. Fore-claws latched his shoulders, rear claws disemboweled, and his teeth tore into its gills. A heartbeat later, he was looking at the last aquan, who tried to run for the helmsman. Mr. Tritts’ powerful pounce brought the aquan up short. Both collapsed to the deck at the feet of the helmsman, the coral spear skittering away over the lip, to the main deck below.

  By the port cargo hatch, three sailors poured onto the main-deck. Hearing their ally’s plea for help, they charged, bellowing all the way up to the foredeck.

  An aquan, unseen in the commotion, slipped below deck. He hid in the gloom of the porthole lit deck, waiting for an opportunity to inflict a great blow. Ideally, he wanted to get below the waterline and release a vial of kraken stomach acid. But he had to be smart. He would wait and see what happened.

  The tide and the momentum of battle began to shift in favour of the defenders. Even though the cost was dear, the sailor by Hullaboo finished off the aquan for him. This freed up Hullaboo to leap away with a barely comprehensible, “Thank you,” from his slobbering, overextended tongue. Hullaboo leapt clear to the roof of the forecastle. The foremast provided a nice anchor to loop his tongue around to fling his jump in a sweeping arc. This allowed him to massively kick off an aquan who had his back turned to him. It sent the aquan reeling, off-kilter, and it careened over the side of the ship, ricocheting off the anchor on the way down. The jellyfish were getting well fed. This kickoff allowed the froggle to launch the opposite direction back around the mast, like a two hundred pound blue and yellow tetherball. He then struck the surprised aquan, who had just turned towards the commotion of his friend being kicked overboard. Instead of facing an opponent, the aquan felt the breeze of the same fate plow into his own back. He, too, fed the jellyfish.

  Holding the starboard bow of the ship, the two aquans suddenly found the tide reversed upon them as their initial quarry continued to stab at their ankles, and three new sailors charged into the fray. The mammals were so noisy. They seemed to bellow nonsensically. “We got you mate!” and “You can fall back now, mate!” and other alien curses flowed freely from their fleshy red gobs. The two aquans combined their efforts against one sailor who foolishly got trapped between them. Spears hungrily feasted on flesh from his gut and his arm, and he painted the deck red and brown. He made more animal noises. His sword arm still found a thing to take revenge on. Unfortunately, all it found was the deck as he fell to one knee.

  A biting slash from the original defender brought the aquan to its knees right in line with a lateral swing of a meat cleaver. The ship’s chef opened the aquan up from gill to gill. The head flopped back from the clean laceration, and the eyes went milky.

  “Who’s up for one hell of a good old-fashioned fish fry tonight?” roared the ship’s chef.

  “Where’n creation did all these vines come from mate?” asked the lookout.

  “Buggered if I know,” said Vlados, as his hammer rose and smashed the skull of an aquan who could barely breathe as it was.

  The lookout stabbed the dead thing just to be sure. The vines held it aloft in a rather suspicious way.

  On the stairs, Crallick spat a glob of poisonous spittle at the aquan. It caught the creature in the face, blinding it and causing great pain. His sword finished the creature off with a jagged slash across its bowels. He left the carrion on the stairs and stepped over it to see what was going on behind Wanda.

  Wanda stepped back from the dead aquan, who stabbed the air a few times in vain. Then she saw the ruin of a body that was the dying Captain. Well, her goddess was just going to have to interfere with this one. With all the focus of peace and harmony that she could muster, she knelt beside the failing captain. Laying her hands on the woman’s throat, she began praying.

  After seeing the human priestess kneel by the captain, a move he was certain was suicidal, the sailor’s alarm rose when he realized an aquan suddenly ignored the captain and the priestess. It came right for him. He just managed to roll right, out of the way of the blow, before it sundered him. He urgently lashed back, with his cutlass doing nothing more than bruise the aquan.

  Mr. Tritts finished goring out the aquan at the feet of the helmsman and then he remembered just how injured he was. He sagged back against the wall of the aftcastle cabin, and murmured, “Just need a quick cat nap…” He closed his eyes.

  Now, the reason that most
seafarers preferred the cutlass to other weapons is that, in addition to use as a sword, its haft was heavy and sturdy enough to double as a hatchet. After staving off the onslaught at the port-bow of the ship, the deckhand sought out ropes to cleave free from the ship.

  Hullaboo leapt fifteen feet over the remaining aquan to catch him within a triangle of angry sailors. The aquan quickly dropped his spear and rose his hands. Asking for mercy, Hullaboo suspected. It just made his execution easier. Two cutlasses from the front and a spear from the back ruined the internal organs of the overwhelmed being. The grievously wounded sailor who had held the position, after seeing the final foe drop, allowed himself to succumb to his wounds. Sliding to the main deck in a puddle of his own blood, stool and urine, he closed his eyes.

  Vlados tossed two flasks to the lookout. “Run these forwards, and smash them on the tentacle thingies holding the ship. Then come back and let me know how they work.”

  “Aye, mate.” He grabbed the flasks of amber liquid and obeyed.

  Vlados chucked one of his own down the side where he stood, and observed. Three of the scintillating tendrils writhed as though hit by a torch, and flayed themselves free of the ship before swiftly withdrawing into the water. “Yeah!” Vlados exclaimed.

  “What the bloody mess is it?” Crallick yelled back.

  “The flasks! They work! Just chuck them down on the jellyfish! It’ll let go as sure as froggles hop!” he called back.

  Slicing an aquan in half as it barred his way up the stairs, Crallick retorted, “Great! When I’m finished mopping up, I’ll feed your pet!”

  Another aquan started down the stairs toward Crallick, missed its footing on the first step and fell face first at Crallick’s feet. Puzzling over the odd behavior, Crallick finished his deliberation by simply driving his greatsword into the base of its skull. Mystery solved. Now maybe he could finally get up the damned stairs.

  Wanda’s prayers of peace allowed her to work beneath anyone’s notice who held a violent motive in their heart. Her subsequent prayers of healing waters and restructuring mantras flowed out of her and rushed cool energies into the body of Raquel. Throat tissues began to knit back together, beginning with the two severed jugulars, who danced around like miniature snakes before striking at each other and binding true to one another. The process was taking way too much time for Wanda’s liking. She switched the focus of her healing prayers to reflooding the woman’s barren circulatory system with new blood. Wanda watched with relief as the colour began to seep back into the pallid form on the deck. ‘Thank you Flowwe, there is hope yet for this woman’, she thought.

  Scant feet away, the prone would-be rescuer wished he had timed his leap to save his captain better. A heartbeat past his wish, he felt a spear rupture his stomach, causing searing pain and burning as his gastric acid began to digest his own bowels. Pulling the aquan closer by the jagged spear, he wedged his cutlass into the gill, and skewered it upwards, driving it towards the thing’s brain. Both of their breathing labored. Both of their struggles ebbed. The light of life flowed from both sets of glaring eyes that softened as death took them.

  The quartermaster, leading another three sailors, came topside. Upon seeing the chaos of combat had died away, he called out, “Captain?”

  No answer.

  “Mr. Tritts?”

  No answer.

  “Mr. Shneed?”

  No answer.

  Calling over to the Vitani lookout, the quartermaster said, “Mr. Reillane, you’re in command here, I’m going below to search for stray boarders. Try to get us free if you can!”

  “Aye, sir! Save Mr. Ironforge has the issue well in hand,” the lookout called back.

  “Well, defer to him then!” With that, the quartermaster led his men back below.

  The lookout returned to Vlados about the same time as Crallick. “Well, you heard the man, Mr. Ironforge. What’s the call?” the lookout asked while Crallick smirked.

  “Uhhh,” Vlados stalled. Then, shaking his head, he recovered. “Well, how did the vessels work?”

  “Very well, mate,” the lookout beamed. “Very well indeed.”

  “Well then, you take these,” he handed him a sack of six, “and keep going. Come back if and when you need more.” Looking at Crallick, he added, “Cral, can you find out how many hale bodies we have left on this tub, on deck?”

  “Sure, Mr. Ironforge. And what should I do about them?” Crallick dripped sarcasm.

  “Get two men up to man the sails, and get the others to take the bodies below to the surgeon. Get two more to come help with freeing the ship.” Vlados paused to breathe. “Savvy?”

  Crallick couldn’t help stifle a laugh. “Sure, Captain.” Then, shaking his head as he walked away, he murmured, “A dwarven sea captain. What next? Just when you think you’ve seen it all…”

  Chapter Seven

  “The Knights of the pyre used weapons wreathed in flame

  To focus their efforts on the east Wood Wyrm's wrath.

  Two grand knights made fire to put mount Dratho to shame

  Oil fed fire charred all, Wyrm included, in its path.”

  Verse 8: Ballad of Ser Crallick Carnage-born.

  Vlados leapt up to the aft deck. “You know what yer doing with keeping us on our… uh, bearing?”

  The helmsman smiled, “Aye, ser. That I do.”

  “’Kay then, keep us heading to Carib while I figger out how we be sitting,” Vlados’s dwarven accent was becoming more stressed with his increased anxiety.

  “All the tentacles are free of the ship, ser!” called a deckhand from the main deck. “We’re free and easy now!”

  “Excellent!” Vlados called back. “Now be a good lad and run and fetch the quartermaster!”

  “Aye, aye, ser.” The hand trotted off to the hatch below.

  Several moments passed as the unscathed crewmen gathered up their wounded counterparts and got them stowed below deck. The ones who seemed beyond help were left for the moment, along with the stinking offal and the blood that stained the deck boards. Vlados waited patiently and soon enough, the quartermaster presented himself to the dwarf.

  “Aye, ser?” came the questioning acknowledgement.

  “Mr. Drake, may I ask you something?” Vlados put to the man.

  “Aye.”

  “Why the infernal blazes are you not taking command of the blasted ship?”

  A sardonic grin split the bronze cheeks of the massive quartermaster. “Truth be told ser, I know more about the operations of this vessel than any alive. I just don’t have the heart to carry the load of being responsible for my shipmates’ lives. I just can’t do that, ser. Any advisements or information you need, I’ll gladly supply, but I won’t order my mates in life and death situations.” He shook his ragged blond hair.

  “All right then, when the surgeon has a few moments, have her come up and let me know how we stand with the health of the crew. Then I can worry about the watches,” Vlados put to Mr. Drake.

  “That sounds fine,” Mr. Drake said. “I’ll see if either she or the ship’s chef can expedite that for you.”

  “Thank you.” Vlados turned to the desk, trying to puzzle out the maps. All the while, fervent, earnest praying chanted from Wanda on the starboard side of the ship.

  A while later… about the time Vlados had figured out where north was on the map, and actually in relation to the ship, Mr. Drake returned. “Syllethra apologises, but she’s far too busy, as is the chef. They gave me the rundown.”

  Grimly, Vlados mused that this couldn’t bode well. “Please do, Mr. Drake. Let me have it.”

  “If I may respectfully suggest we do this in the Captain’s quarters, and make sure you enter it in her log?” He smiled sympathetically at the dwarf.

  “Of course, what’d I do without you?” Vlados rose and headed below.

  “You probably wouldn’t be in the insufferable position you find yourself in now ser,” Mr. Drake confessed. “On behalf of the ship’s company, thank y
ou for stepping up.”

  “Yeah, well,” Vlados’s shoulders heaved, “it needed to be done.”

  “Aye, it did.” Mr. Drake waited for the dwarf to rummage through the Captain’s desk to find her log book. He then waited patiently for the acting Captain to find the inkwell and quill. Then he began. “The Flamerunner, a brigantine running with twenty-one souls crewing her, with four passengers aboard, ran afoul of an aquan ravager school. There were two Mallay jellyfish, and about two score aquans. In the defence of the ship, the following were the results of the fracas. Deckhand Fieri Tijahni of Jherrim; 2nd mate, Mr. Archibald Shneed of Bannathyr; deckhand Braken Wade of Bannathyr; rigging rat, Dale Goreman of Amoral; and rigging rat, Ichobod Arlois, of Bannathyr, all lost their lives defending the ship. These tragic passings bring the shipboard compliment down to the minimum recommended crew for the brigantine. Of the remaining sixteen crew and four passengers, the following are no longer whole and hale, and are currently under the care of the ship’s surgeon, Syllethra. Deckhand Tobias Fent, of Bannathyr, is requiring stitches for a deep gash over his left hip, and he is being cared for due to having his throat brutally crushed in an attempt to squeeze the life from him. His recovery is estimated at 2-3 tenday, barring sepsis. Rigging rat, Dester Wyrmbane, of Amoral, is requiring stitches for his right leg, recovery estimates one tenday, barring sepsis. Rigging rat, Vessae Sarath, of the Jharrim Jungles, has a punctured left lung, and her recovery is thought to be 4-6 tendays. 1st Mate Jarlois Tritts, of Jharrim, needs the setting of a broken right clavicle, stitches on the right shoulder, and stitches on the left calf. His recovery, barring sepsis, should be 3-4 tenday. And finally, Captain Raquel Tallanthyre, of Bannathyr, whose condition is critical due to severe damage to the throat and the left kidney. She is not expected to recover. The remaining eleven crewmen are unscathed. Two of the four passengers are unscathed. Ser Crallick Oakentree of Bannathyr has two broken ribs and has refused treatment. Wanda Swells of Bannathyr requires stitches on her left thigh. 1-2 tendays should set her right, barring sepsis. Vlados Ironforge of the Ironforge Clan is acting Captain until further notice. We are continuing at best possible speed for Port Fairaway.” The quartermaster looked up, “That should about do it, ser. If you have any personal thoughts, you may add them on your own volition.”