Gareth and th Lost Island

by Patrick Mallard

  Gareth jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the wagon. “That’s why we brought diving suits,” he replied.

  “This must be a site of some importance if a Dwarf is willing to go diving,” Elizabeth observed.

  “Don’t remind me,” Tralnis moaned.

  Elizabeth let her small half smile out again in a show of commiseration with Tralnis. Deciding to get all of the financial details out of the way, she continued the negotiations. “I take it we will be splitting the artifacts recovered under using the standard rates,” she stated.

  “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a 50/50 split,” Tralnis replied. This time Elizabeth’s training slipped, and she wore an expression of pure shock.

  Gareth grabbed Tralnis’ arm, and dragged him to the side for a quick conference. “What are you doing? The standard rate is 5 percent for the airship, 5 percent for the expedition team, and the other 90 percent for the University,” he said, explaining how things were supposed to work.

  “By the University, you mean the same bastards that basically tossed us out on our arses in favor of a place that will do their nails?” Tralnis inquired with mock sweetness.

  This brought Gareth’s arguments up short. “So what you’re saying is…” he started to say before Tralnis finished his sentence for him.

  “Screw those arseholes!” Tralnis stated firmly. “Besides, we should get 50 percent anyway, since we used our own savings to match what those penny pinching, centipede buggering fools gave us,” he reminded Gareth.

  Gareth and Tralnis rejoined Henry and the Morgana sisters. “I’m sorry for interrupting the negotiation. Tralnis reminded me of some facts I had forgotten about. Not the least of which, is that he is the primary private backer for our expedition. A 50/50 split will work out fine,” he apologized.

  “Oh… and did we mention that the site we will be heading to slipped into the ocean during the Second Great Apocalypse?” Tralnis inquired, further sweetening the pot. Relics from before the Second Great Apocalypse were extremely rare, and therefore in great demand by some of the wealthiest collectors.

  Elizabeth held out her good hand to Tralnis this time. “Doctor, we have a deal,” she said. While Tralnis shook the captain’s hand, Gareth and Izzy just smiled at each other. Henry saw the shared goofy looks, and couldn’t wait to tease his friend even more once they had their things settled on board.

  Izzy reached down and took Gareth’s hand. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew,” she told him while she dragged him up the cargo ramp. Henry started to grab their luggage, but stopped when Izzy said, “Leave those there. I’ll have our cargomaster come get them. He is very particular about where things are stored in his cargo bay.”

  As soon as they were in the cargo hold, Izzy grabbed a hose with a cone at the end that had been secured to wall. “All hands to the cargo deck. We have some new people on board that I want to introduce you to,” she shouted into the cone. Gareth was surprised to hear her voice echo throughout the ship. While they were waiting for the crew to assemble, Henry, Tralnis, and Elizabeth joined them.

  As expected, the cargomaster was the first crew member to show up. Gareth was surprised to see the cargo master was a Kwa-Kwa-Ur, a being rarely seen outside of their native swamps. Kwa-Kwa-Ur were actually a tertiary creature composed of a host and two symbiotes. The Ur looked like a keg covered in leathery gray flesh. Its huge mouth was located in the center of its round body. Stubby, but extremely strong, arms and legs sprouted from the barrel shape. The Ur had no eyes what so ever. On the top of the Ur were two Kwas.

  The Kwas were long tubes with a single eye and a mouth positioned at one end, with the other end attached to the Ur’s skull. When the larva form of the Kwa find a newly hatched Ur in the swamp, they burrow into its head, and mesh their nervous and circulatory systems together to form a new creature. The joining benefits both species. The Ur use their shared nervous systems to gain the ability to see while the Kwa gain mobility and a huge body to defend themselves.

  “Sheldon, I would like to introduce you to our new employer, Professor Mintel,” she said.

  The eyestalk on the left turned to look at the eyestalk on the right. A high pitched voice asked, “Did she just call this guy ‘Professor Mental’?”

  The right eyestalk responded in a slightly lower voice, “Well, he’d have to be to hire us.” Both set of eyestalks started laughing at their joke. The main body sighed loudly, and rubbed the area above his mouth as if he was getting a headache.

  The right eyestalk twisted, and bent down to look at Tralnis. “Hey Doc, you got anything for snoring? This big galoot snores so much, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks,” it requested.

  Tralnis chuckled and replied, “I’ll see what I can find.”

  “Thanks,” the right eyestalk said.

  The left eyestalk rotated to look at Henry. “Hey Chim, how’s it hanging? You know, because Chims were originally tree dwellers and they hung from branches…” it babbled until it noticed the cargo hold had become awkwardly silent. “Wow, tough crowd,” the eyestalk muttered to itself.

  Izzy pointed down the cargo ramp. “Sheldon, their stuff is in the wagon parked on the dock next to us. Why don’t you go get it before your two comedians say something we will all regret,” she told the creature.

  Sheldon nodded yes a little more emphatically than was necessary, causing his chatty eyestalks to bob up and down rapidly. “Hey, knock it off or I’m closing my eye the next time we play catch. Let’s see how well you play without depth perception,” the eyestalk on the left warned.

  When the Kwa-Kwa-Ur was off the cargo ramp, Izzy leaned over to Gareth and whispered, “His name’s not really ‘Sheldon’ it’s just what we call him.” Gareth nodded in complete understanding. Ur was a very difficult language to learn, and most of their names were impossible for a human to pronounce. The only time Gareth had heard a human voice come even remotely close to pronouncing an Ur name was at a faculty party. Turns out what he thought was a linguistic breakthrough was actually someone trying to swallow a live chicken on a drunken bet.

  A red skinned male dressed in flowing blue robes walked down the stairs that led to the upper decks. He had angled bone plates where a human’s smooth forehead would be. A multitude of long, black quills sprouted from the top and back of his head like hair. Since he did not feel threatened, the quills were laying down in a smooth sheet along his neck and upper back.

  “Pilot, these are our passengers: a professor, a doctor, and a butler,” she said, pointing at each of them in turn.

  Tralnis shook his head in amusement and held his hand out to shake the pilot’s hand. “Enough of that silly formality, my name’s Tralnis. What’s your name lad?” he inquired in a friendly voice.

  “I am the pilot of the Glorious Dawn,” the red skinned male replied.

  Before Tralnis could ask again what the man’s name was, Gareth put a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder to stop him. “Pilot is a Roehus. In their culture, people don’t have names like we think of them. They believe that a person is constantly growing and changing. Not to mention that everyone always presents a different side of themselves depending on the situation. To a Roehus, a permanent name doesn’t make sense to them. They use descriptors, or refer to themselves by their position,” Gareth explained.

  Pilot nodded his head, happy to meet a human who understood his people’s beliefs. “The tall passenger is correct. At this moment, I am ‘the pilot of the Glorious Dawn’. When I holiday with my parents, I am ‘the son who has returned for a visit’,” Pilot clarified.

  “Gods, that a mouthful,” Tralnis observed dryly.

  Pilot gave Tralnis an indulgent smirk. “It’s actually quite a bit easier in our language,” he chuckled.

  Gareth nodded his head in agreement. “He’s right. In his language, ‘the son who has returned for a visit’ sounds like this,” he said before making a clicking noise with his tongue off the roof of his mouth followed
by a stuttering “T” sound.

  “You have excellent pronunciation, professor who speaks the people’s language,” Pilot complimented.

  The last of the crew to show up was a member of the reptilian race known as the Scaled Ones. Over the millennium, the Scaled Ones had learned to walk upright and now had only a tiny tail, since a longer one would have thrown off their balance. Their long snouts had flattened making their vocal apparatus similar to most of the other sentient races. They were so close in shape to Humans that under a cloak it would be impossible to tell them apart. This particular Scaled One had light green scales over most of his body. The scales on his brow ridges were yellow streaked with brown. He wore only a dingy pair of loose fitting, linen pants and a soiled, leather apron.

  As soon as Henry saw the Scaled One, he shifted his right foot back, and raised his right fist up, ready to punch. A low growl of warning came from deep in his throat, while he gave an open lipped smile to show all of his sharp teeth. Henry squinted his eyes in pure hatred for the creature standing before them.

  The Scaled One took an involuntary step backwards before he caught himself. “You better get your pet on a leash!” he warned, trying to make himself sound tough.

  Izzy spun around, and glared at the Scaled One herself. “Egite! What the hells is wrong with you? These are paying passengers!” she scolded him.

  Egite lowered his head just slightly to acknowledge he had heard Izzy. “I am sorry. I’m just not used to slaves being allowed to threaten people like that. It reflects so poorly on their master’s ability to control them. Chims are just mindless, smelly beasts after all,” he hissed.

  Elizabeth silently cursed Egite’s disregard for anything even resembling good manners. She knew there was going to be a fight, and didn’t blame the Chim one bit. The Scaled Ones had been invading the jungle island of Chimia for centuries. The reptiles would often go on raiding parties where they captured as many Chims as they could. The Scaled Ones would then feast on the old and infirm. The rest they sold as slaves.

  The person who stepped forward to fight Egite genuinely surprised Elizabeth. Gareth maneuvered himself in between Egite and Henry, his hands balled into fists. He was visibly shaking from the barely contained rage he was feeling. Gareth’s advancement on the Scaled One was halted by Henry gently placing one of his long hands on Gareth’s arm. The Chim’s dangerous posture had melted into a much gentler one. Whispered hoots and clicks made Gareth take in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Gareth relaxed his hands, and took a step back so he was shoulder to shoulder with Henry.

  “Speak like that again of my friend, and I won’t listen to him telling me you aren’t worth the trouble. Next time, I’ll introduce your smirking face to my boot,” Gareth promised Egite, his eyes telling everyone that he meant to back up that promise.

  Egite turned to look at Elizabeth while pointing an accusing finger at Gareth. “Did you hear him? He threatened me, a member of your crew. What are you going to do about it?” he demanded.

  Elizabeth was very tempted to let Gareth beat the holy hells out of Egite, but the Scaled One did have a point. He was a member of her crew. “Professor Mintel, I promise I will keep Egite away from you, and your friends for the duration of the voyage,” she offered.

  “That’s it?! That’s all you are going to say?!” ranted Egite. “Either that filthy beast stays here when we take off, or you fly without me,” he said, giving his captain an ultimatum.

  ‘Never mind the professor, I might kill the idiot myself,’ Elizabeth silently fumed to herself. What she said out loud however was, “Egite is the ship’s cook, so unless one of you would be willing to fill his place, we are going to have to come up with some sort of compromise,” she stated, each word leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

  Tralnis started to chuckle, and then laugh out right. When he got himself under control, he faced Henry. “What do you say, old chap? You are always complaining that cooking for just Gareth and I isn’t challenging enough for you,” he inquired. Henry tilted his head while he thought about things, and then gave his employer a closed mouth smile. Tralnis turned back towards Elizabeth. “There you have it. Henry would love to take up the cooking duties,” he stated. After a moment he added with a smile, “Henry was top of his class at the Dragonheart School of Culinary Arts.”

  Even Izzy had heard of the Dragonheart Culinary School. Chefs from around Hadronus competed for the chance to learn their skills there. “Henry’s got my vote,” she said cheerfully.

  Sheldon and his two permanent companions had arrived, carrying a crate that would require at least two strong humans to lift. He had overheard the offer Tralnis had made on behalf of Henry. The Ur said something that sounded like a boulder bouncing down a mountain side. The eyestalks twisted to look at each other before the right one announced, “For once, the three of us agree on something. The Chim stays.”

  Egite couldn’t believe the crew was turning on him like this. He spun around, and gave Pilot a pleading look. “Come on friend, you aren’t going to stand for this, are you?” he begged.

  “Barely adequate cook, my people have a saying perfect for situations like this,” Pilot told him. After pausing for effect, he translated the old Roehussian saying into Trade. “Do not let the cargo ramp hit you on the ass on your way out,” he said with a smile.

  Pleased that the confrontation ended positively for her ship, Elizabeth scowled at Egite. “You have 20 minutes to get your belongings off of the Glorious Dawn. After that, I’ll have Sheldon toss you, and everything else in that filthy nest of yours, overboard,” she stated calmly. Without a word, Egite spun around, and stormed up the stairs to the crew quarters.

  Izzy held out her arm, offering it to Henry. “Let me take you to the galley, Henry. After you give it a look over, I want you to write up a list of what you think we need to make it a place worthy of your talent,” she stated formally, grinning the whole time.

  Chapter 10

  Tralnis handed over the 5,000 IRD Marks to Elizabeth who promptly handed it to Izzy. They had long ago learned that the more bubbly personality of the younger sister got them better deals at the local markets and bazaars when they purchased cargo. The last time Elizabeth had tried to buy cargo, the wool seller had run screaming into the night. In his defense, Elizabeth had been in a bad mood since her prosthetic arm had been malfunctioning. The sight of a scowling woman with horrible scars and spinning claws on the end of her mechanical arm would probably scare just about anyone.

  Izzy stopped by the galley to find out what Henry needed to bring it up to his standards. She found Gareth in the galley helping their new cook try to get the kitchen in some sort of working order. Gareth had taken his burgundy jacket off, and hung it on a hook set in the wall usually used to hang pots and pans. He had rolled up his sleeves, and had grime up to his elbows. With rag in hand, he violently scrubbed one of the numerous filthy pots piled up next to the sink. Henry had the door to the ice box open, and let out a low, mournful sounding howl.

  “I already told you, I have no idea what that thing is at the back. My suggestion is to grab one of those glass jars over there, put the thing in it, tighten the lid as if your life depended on it, and give whatever it is to Tralnis to see if he can identify it,” Gareth said.

  Henry snorted and grunted a few times.

  “Hells no! I won’t do it for you. It might touch me,” Gareth replied, clearly unnerved by what they had discovered.

  Fighting hard to keep her lunch down, since said lunch had probably come from the ice box, Izzy stepped into the galley. “Hello, Henry… Professor,” she called out from the doorway.

  “Please, call me Gareth. You’re not one of my students,” Gareth requested.

  Izzy wondered how many of his students were women who signed up for his classes just to ogle him while he taught. “As long as you keep calling me Izzy,” she countered. Remembering why she was there in the first place, she said “I’m off to the trading bazaar and wanted to see if Henry ha
d a list put together of what he needs.” Henry nodded his hairy head, and pointed to two sheets of paper held down on the table by a clean pot. Izzy picked up the papers, and frowned when she tried to read it. “Sorry, Henry, but I can’t read Chimmish,” she stated.

  “It’s not Chimmish. Henry just has really lousy handwriting,” Gareth told her.

  Henry hooted in his own defense.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I meant lousy footwriting. How many times have I told you your penmanship goes to the hells when you use your feet?” he asked.

  Henry snarled something Gareth refused to translate for Izzy.

  Considering what he said was accompanied by a rude hand gesture towards Gareth, Izzy could guess what the gist of it was. “Izzy, if you would like, I could go with you and translate Henry’s chicken scratches for you,” Gareth offered.

  Izzy gave Gareth a small curtsy, and replied, “I would be honored, Gareth.”

  Gareth washed his hands and arms in clean water, and dried them off with one of the few clean rags in the kitchen. When he was done, he tossed the rag at Henry who caught it in midair. With a practiced flick of his wrist, Henry sent the rag flying back to hit Gareth in the face. Izzy laughed at the playful way the two friends interacted. Gareth put the rag carefully down on the table, and grabbed his jacket. He took the papers from Izzy’s hand, and stuffed them in his pocket.

  Izzy used the walk to the bazaar to learn more about the handsome professor. “So what’s the story with you and Henry? You looked like you were going to tear Egite apart with your bare hands when he said all those rude things,” she inquired.

  Gareth smiled while he thought back on his long friendship with Henry. “Henry was my first friend. We met when I was only five years old, and I lived in an orphanage on the bad side of Pigshit,” he said, using the other name for University City. “Even in the IRD, Chims are treated like second class citizens. Henry lived in the same ghetto, only a few blocks from the orphanage. We would meet every day at the park, and switch off between playing and him teaching me Chimmish. After a few weeks of being friends, some older kids in the neighborhood got together, and decided it would be fun to take out their aggressions on a tiny Chim. They knew that the police would believe them instead of Henry if he were to fight back, so they thought picking on him would be safe and easy. After school one day, they waited in an alley by the park to ambush Henry,” he said, his jaw tightening as he remembered that day.