by Randy Nargi
She tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea hit her hard and she almost blacked out again. Without thinking, she cast treat poison on herself.
Almost instantly her head started to clear and her stomach didn’t feel like it was trying to turn itself inside out. Thank god.
She followed the spell up with vivify, which made her feel even better.
Pari sat up and looked around in horror. What the—?
She was on a boat—a single-masted sailing ship, maybe 50 or 60 feet long with a big square sail which noisily flapped in the wind over her head. All around her was an endless expanse of fog and water.
But she wasn’t alone.
Four men regarded her curiously. The oldest-looking sailor grinned at her. “So you’re not dead after all?”
This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.
Pari closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
But when she opened her eyes, she was still on a ship. Still buck naked. And still being stared at by four grimy-looking men.
“I need something to cover up with,” she croaked. Her throat was still dry and she could barely speak.
The sailor said, “Your bag is right over there. We didn’t touch anything.”
She looked down to where the sailor pointed and saw a big linen sack. Inside were her clothes, boots, and pouches. She quickly removed everything from the sack and there amidst her stuff was a little scrap of paper with a handwritten note. It read:
“Sorry babe. All’s fair in love and recruiting. -Z.”
That bitch! She drugged me!
Rage swept over her as she pulled on her clothes and inspected her possessions. She would take Zoë out, no matter what. Pari was well aware that there was no PvP in the game, but there must be other ways.
“It looks like your rash has cleared up,” the sailor said.
“What?”
“Your rash. The people who paid your passage said you had been afflicted by a horrible rash—so bad that even the touch of cloth caused you considerable pain. That’s why you weren’t wearing any garments. They said the salt air would fix you right up, and I reckon they were right.”
“Well, they were lying to you. I didn’t have any rash. Those people were torturing me. Was there a woman with pink hair?”
“Why, yes. I remarked to Eadric here that you don’t really see that color of hair and he thought she might be a fae of some sort.”
“She’s not a fae. She’s a villain.”
“But why would a villain go to the trouble of paying us to take you to Northfleet?”
“Northfleet? Are you serious? Where are we now?”
“Just three hours out of Lorque. We’ll be clearing the Bay of Favin within the hour.”
“So we’re not in the ocean yet?”
“Soon, miss.”
“No, not soon. I need to get off. Immediately. You need to take this boat ashore.”
The sailor shook his head. “It’s all rocky cliffs until we get to Port Arlin. There’s nowhere to dock.”
“Then get me close. I’ll swim.”
“You’d never make it. These waters are infested with gorgon eels, boneslicers, mordecans, and who knows what else. Besides, we’ll be in Port Arlin in a few hours.”
She didn’t want to hear that. She really didn’t. Her eyes swam with tears and she slumped back down on ship’s deck and sobbed for a good long time.
The sailors gave her space, and she tried to think about what she would do next.
No way around it, she would have to contact Lazarus. She would have to admit that she lost the sage and had been suckered by the Golden Hawks. And then she’d have to make her way back to Holgate. It was a good 40 miles from Port Arlin. That meant a full day on the road. What the hell day was it? Tuesday? No, yesterday was Tuesday. Today must be Wednesday. She wouldn’t be back to Holgate until Thursday.
Lazarus would be furious. Maybe he’d even boot her out of the fellowship. She always knew that he thought Iniya was the smart one. Lazarus had only let her join Wood and Silence to get Iniya. Panic welled up in her, and her mind started to race.
Now that Iniya was gone why would Lazarus even keep her around? Especially since she was screwing up so badly.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her arms and legs started to tingle, and spots floated in front of her eyes. She pulled herself into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut, willing her heart to calm down before it exploded.
She’d have no fellowship. No friends. She was going to be totally alone. She was a total screw up.
Pari looked out at the churning water. What if she just jumped overboard? Started over? It was making more and more sense to her. Even if she couldn’t be with Iniya, she could restart with a clean slate. She’d still have nine months to play. You could do a lot in nine months.
“Demon’s blood!” the older sailor cursed. “Raiders ho!” He pointed out in front of the ship where a mass of storm clouds were rolling in, pouring out rain and thunder. There, barely visible, among the clouds was a warship—sailing right towards them.
“What is that?” Pari asked.
“Storm Reavers,” the sailor said. “They’ll torture and murder all of us men, but they’ll do even worse to you.”
Pari’s blood ran cold. Storm Reavers were some sort of undead, or nearly undead, pirates. She had heard stories about their depravity. They would flay the skin off their victims, and eat their flesh, and burn whatever part remained alive.
“You must have rowboats,” she said. “We have to escape.”
“We have one, but as I said, there’s nowhere to land.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“It would be of no use.” The sailor shook his head. “Make peace with your gods, miss, for we are doomed! Doomed to hell!”
The Reaver ship was closing quickly, moving at an unnatural speed.
Pari grabbed the sailor by the shoulders. “Get a grip on yourself. Where’s that rowboat?”
The man twitched oddly as if he was having some sort of seizure. His eyes glazed over and his head slumped.
“Where’s the rowboat?” Pari screamed.
The sailor snapped out of it. He looked directly at Pari and calmly said, “I have a plan. I know how to save you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Pari could see that the raiding vessel was even closer.
“My men and I will take the rowboat and lure them away,” the sailor said. “You get below. There are places in the hold in which you may hide.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We were chartered by mages from Durrow—before you came aboard. Their cargo is in the hold. Hide there. You’ll be safe, I know it.” His eyes flicked up.
Pari turned and saw that the Storm Reavers’ ship was upon them. It loomed up tall through the fog, and shadowy figures swarmed on the deck, readying grappling hooks.
“Now, miss! Make haste and conceal yourself below! It’s your only chance!”
He called for the other sailors to jettison the rowboat, then wished her good luck.
Fear clawed through Pari, but at the same time she had a small sliver of hope that the sailor’s plan might work. The Reavers didn’t really care about cargo; they cared about killing and torture. Maybe the sailors really could draw them away.
A splash on the starboard side of the ship signaled that the rowboat had been lowered into the water. The sailors shimmied down ropes off the side and made their escape.
At the same time, a chorus of guttural cries arose from the Storm Reavers. They had spotted the sailors trying to escape, and now they whooped and sung out battle cries as they flung themselves into the water and began swimming after the rowboat.
Pari raced down into the hold. Shafts of soft light from portholes cut through the gloom providing her with just enough light to make out a large spherical shape set right in the center of the hold. The sphere was six or seven feet tall, with a cloth shroud draping over it. As her eyes adjusted to th
e darkness, she saw that the sphere was surrounded by a few dozen large crates that were marked with arcane symbols burned into the wood.
This must be the mages’ stuff. But what was it all?
She went around to the back of the large shrouded sphere and looked for a place into which she could squeeze herself. But as she brushed by the shroud, she caught a glimpse of what it was covering. She saw a polished metal surface dotted by rivets. Lifting the shroud further, Pari exposed an oval glass hatch set into the side of the sphere.
At that moment, she heard shouts from up on the deck. The Storm Reavers were onboard. Damn!
She tugged at the handle of the hatch and it opened—slowly. The door was very heavy, but Pari used all her strength to get it open enough so that she could squeeze inside.
As she pulled the hatch shut, a horrific creature slammed itself against the hatch’s window. The Storm Reaver looked like some sort of zombie, with shredded decaying flesh hanging from a sunken skull, and dead eyes.
It battered the hatch window with bloody hands, screaming and gnashing its jaws.
Pari frantically turned the locking wheel on the hatch and prayed it would hold. She fished out one of her glowstones and held it up to illuminate her surroundings.
She was in a cramped chamber with all sorts of valves, control surfaces, levers, pipes, and riveted sections. Opposite the hatch was what looked like a control console made of carved wood inset with various brass gauges, meters, buttons, switches, and handles. The tech looked out of place for a medieval setting—that was for sure. It looked more like some kind of steampunk diving bell.
Bang! The sphere rocked as more Reavers slammed themselves against the hatch. They had torn the shroud completely off and she could see their leering faces through the hatch window. This was not good. Not good at all. The glass wouldn’t hold forever.
Pari looked around again and decided that the sphere could really be some sort of diving bell or micro-submarine. Why else would it have all these reinforced and riveted sections?
She turned back to the console. These controls had to do something.
All of a sudden she heard scratching and pounding from the other side of the sphere—then the top. The Reavers were all over this thing.
Screw it.
She started flipping switches and pushing levers and buttons. At first nothing happened, but then she heard a deep rumbling sound that she could feel in her bones. Glowing lights flickered all across the console, winking on and off.
Without warning, the sphere lurched over, throwing her into the opposite wall. She struggled back to her feet and saw that her forearms and elbows were scraped and bloody.
Then the sphere rocked back the other way, knocking Pari from her feet again. It must be the Reavers. What the hell did they think they were going to do?
But then a high-pitched whine assaulted her ears, and she saw a flash of light through the blood-smeared hatch window and then howls and screams from outside.
After a few moments, all the sounds ceased. It was dead quiet. No more banging or scratching. The sphere stopped moving as well.
Pari moved closer to the hatch window, trying to catch a glimpse of something. Were the Reavers gone? Or maybe they were trying to lure her out.
The console still flickered with light. Gauges and meters danced and a round display that looked kind of like a compass started spinning crazily. Whatever this thing was, it looked like Pari had activated it.
There was another blinding flash of light outside the sphere and then the chamber lurched again. But this time, it didn’t stop. Pari tumbled like a sock in the dryer as the sphere plummeted downward through the hull of the ship and into the depths.
Chapter Thirteen
“What was that all about?” Justin asked. “I think you actually killed Chad. I didn’t know NPCs could even do that.”
After leaving the training grounds, Klothar had led Justin north along a farm road to a fence where two horses were hitched. Then he and Klothar had saddled up and set off, riding parallel to the Dark Tree Forest, until they met the trade road.
Now they were riding east on the road between Holgate and Tashon’s Gate. Privately Justin was very impressed with himself. He had never been on a horse before but here he was riding it like a pro.
“That man was a craven, flap-mouthed miscreant!” Klothar said. “The world is better off without him.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Justin said. “But at least he was going to help train me.”
“What do you mean, lad?”
“I mean, I haven’t progressed very far. It’s the second day. People say I should be level two by the end of today, but that’s not going to happen, is it?”
“Level two? In all truth, I have no idea what that means.”
“Right,” Justin said. “You’re just an NPC. That means you pretty much role-play 24/7.”
“Again, you are speaking in riddles, lad.”
“Whatever.”
They rode for a quarter of an hour in silence, then Justin asked, “So this quest we’re on now, do you want to tell me about it? I mean, don’t I have to accept it in order to get credit?”
Klothar shook his head. “You certainly do have a strange manner of speech, lad, and if the oracle had not told me that you were a key part of this endeavor, I might not—”
“Whoa. Hold up. What oracle?”
“I call her an oracle, though in truth, I’m not sure what she is.”
“But she knew about me?”
“You and your young companion both.”
“Pari?”
“Indeed. It is she whom we must locate next.”
“Okay, but who is this oracle? And how did she know about the two of us? I mean, I just got here yesterday.”
“I am not sure that anyone knows the answers to the questions you ask,” Klothar said. “But after the attack of the ebon dragon, I wandered the woods until I found the oracle. She was sitting upon a throne of blood in the Dark Tree.”
“Okay, that’s a little creepy, but go on.”
“She told me that two souls will accompany me on my journey: a childlike lad by the name of Justin—that’s you—”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“And an impulsive woman by the name of Pari. I informed the oracle that I had already met you both, and she then charged me with locating you.”
Justin still had a tough time believing that he was named in a quest. Could NPCs even go on quests?
“Okay, I’m definitely up for helping you with your quest, but I need to get something out of it. Are you cool with that?”
“You shall have one third of any treasure we amass during the adventure.”
“I’m actually talking about XP—experience points. I’m supposed to earn 1500 a day and I am way behind.”
Klothar shrugged like he had no idea what Justin was talking about, which he probably didn’t—being an NPC.
“I am confident that you shall earn some valuable experience on the way,” Klothar said. “It’s obvious that you’ve led a sheltered life up until now.”
“Couldn’t we just go boar hunting? There’s got to be something around here that will give us experience.”
The ranger ignored him. Instead he continued to lead them along the road through the Dark Tree forest, a dense and forbidding wood. But at least the tangled mass of beech and elm trees had been cut back ten yards on either side of the road for safety.
“Are you hungry perchance?” Klothar asked after a time. “I have fresh-baked goblin’s fart bread from Sausie the Baker.”
“I’m not going to even ask what that is. And, no, I’m not hungry. I just need to improve my hunting skills.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Once the forest thins a bit, there will be plenty of game.”
As they rode, Justin decided to ask the ranger more about Greystrand and specifically about the world quest. He was finding this all very confusing. Master Desiderius had told him one thing, but then Ten-Spot confirmed wha
t his own knowledge of lore had told him.
“Hey, you know about Dynark, don’t you?”
Klothar’s expression darkened. “All too well, lad. All too well.”
“What do you mean?”
Klothar sighed. “I mean that I had a hand in releasing the demon lord.”
“You did?”
“It was an accident, of course. Kevon and I were exploring Hell’s Gate, and we inadvertently loosed the dark lord from his magical tomb.”
“Bummer,” Justin said. “Did he try to kill you?”
“No, he had been greatly weakened. He was more of a man than a demon at that point. Quite pleasant, actually. It took him years to regain his strength.”
“But now he’s, like, terrorizing the world, right? Subjugating the free folk?”
“No, in truth, no one has laid eyes on Dynark for a very long time. Many people think he has departed this world.”
“I don’t get it. What about the Shadow Lance?”
Klothar shook his head. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
“C’mon—the world quest? You know?”
“If the world is on a quest, I would have heard about it,” Klothar said matter-of-factly.
“Well, I’ve heard about it. And my friend Ten-Spot heard about it too. Everyone’s searching for the Shadow Lance because apparently, it is the only thing that can defeat Dynark.”
A smile played across Klothar’s face. “Sounds like a fairytale to me, lad.”
“Really? You’re talking to me about fairytales? You just said some old lady sitting on a bloody throne told you to find me.”
“The oracle is not an old lady. She quite comely, actually. And I am to locate both you and Pari.”
“Whatever. But what’s the end game? If we’re not supposed to be looking for the Shadow Lance, what are we looking for?”
“The Iron Veil.”
Justin almost fell out of his saddle. “You know about the Iron Veil?”