Dread crept into Ahren’s stomach as he neared. Intricate, woven lines etched the thick plate, reminiscent of Quellish décor. The twisted and smashed gears of the lock were visible in the hole beside it. Ahren looked inside to see a squarish chamber set above the high tide line. Dust, chips of stone, and splinters of broken wood were all that remained of the treasure. Gone.
Clenching his jaw, he eyed the smashed and broken wall. How long had they taken to pickaxe through? Obviously, it was some time ago, but who found it? Had it been one of Strounet’s men or some random, treasure-hunting sailor? No, they had to have known. How many men knew about this when they built the room, set the lock, and hid the treasure? Ahren eyed the rusty rings set in the cavern wall. They tied their boat here and worked without ever setting foot into the water.
He took a deep breath and laughed. His voice echoed off the walls, almost mocking him. With a final chuckle, he kicked a brass gear from the floor. It bounced off the cave wall then plunked into the water.
Ahren hopped down from the room and slowly made his way back, dribbling the vinegar every few steps. He passed the bodies of the ill-fated treasure hunters. While the creatures hadn’t yet returned, sand-colored crabs had begun to feast in their absence.
The sounds of surf rolled in from ahead as he continued toward the exit. Something moved ahead.
A figure stepped out from the shadows holding a crossbow. “Ahren?”
“Edeline? What are you doing here?”
She smiled. “I followed you. Couldn’t let you have all the excitement.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
The young woman gave a momentary glare. “Where’s Otto?”
“They’re dead.”
“How?” She stepped closer, her boots ankle deep in the water.
“Get out of the water!”
With a puzzled look, she moved up onto a protruding stone. “Did you find it?”
Ahren nodded. “It’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean?”
“Someone took it. It’s gone. Now please, let’s get out of here.” He moved to a larger rock. “There’s things in the water.”
“Who took it?” she yelled.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Possibly one of your grandfather’s accomplices.”
“You’re lying.” Her eyes narrowed. She took a step forward and raised her crossbow.
“No, I’m not. It’s gone, Edeline,” he said frankly. “Now, lower that thing, and get out of th—”
“How? I have the key! They couldn’t have gotten it!”
“Pickaxes. Please get out.” She was still too far to charge. He thought about leaping back into the tunnel. He could hide. Get the drop on her. But there wasn’t enough vinegar left.
She aimed the bolt at his chest. “I should have known better than to trust you.”
A ribbon of yellow light appeared in the water not two steps from her left.
“Edeline, get out of the water!”
“Shut up!”
A stone silently moved from the far side of the tide pool, its edges turning purple as it neared.
“Behind you!” Ahren cried.
It was too late. She turned as the yellow-lit creature surged up onto her leg. Another one, still mimicking the rough stone, clung to the ankle. Her hand squeezed the iron trigger as she screamed, sending the bolt into the ceiling above and tinkling off the stone.
Ahren leapt forward, hurling the bottle to the rocks beside her. Glass shattered, sending vinegar across the water. Clouds of colored ink exploded through the pool. The creatures dropped, thrashing, off her legs and swam away. She staggered, dropping her weapon. Ahren caught her before she collapsed. He pulled her to a strip of exposed stone.
“Edeline?”
She jerked. Her eyes stared at him in pained terror and then rolled back. She tightened, spasmed again, then fell still.
“Edeline!” he yelled.
She was dead.
The multi-colored clouds in the water broke apart into thousands of fading beads. Pungent vinegar filled the cavern. He didn’t know how long he had before they came back. With a sigh, Ahren picked her up and carried her from the cavern and back up the steps to the tower.
He slept in the ruins, dreaming terrible nightmares of glowing tendrils coming from the walls, dancing with the hypnotic beat as they wrapped around him. Squawks of gulls woke him as the sun rose over the horizon. The morning tide had come, crashing white-capped waves into the cliffs and flooding most of the cursed cave. When it left that evening, it would pull away whatever remained of Otto and his men, resetting the trap for the beast waiting inside.
Ahren signaled with his mirror to the neighboring island until flashes returned his call. As the Mädchen sailed to meet him, he buried Edeline beside the ruin. The grandfather’s brass key still hung around her neck.
Derstom and three men rowed a skiff from the anchored ship to the carved steps leading down into the surf. The captain wouldn’t be pleased to hear the treasure was gone. But Ahren had already figured out his compensation.
The two or three men left aboard the Vorsehung wouldn’t be enough to sail it back. Derstom and his men could easily take it. Maybe offer the crew a choice to join or be left on this despicable island until someone found them. The nearby ports of Saldergen or Turrik would be fine places to sell her. He’d split the profits with Derstom and bring the rest back to Garvyn with news that the treasure of Bogen Helm had long since sailed away.
City beneath the Kaisers
PUNGENT SMOKE WAFTED ACROSS the harbor, drowning the customary and familiar stinks of a large port. But for the Guarded City, as it was known, it was quite normal. Twenty-five towers, graven in the likeness of the city’s great Kaisers, encircled the city. Each held aloft an ever-burning torch. Twelve more, fashioned after the city’s saints, encircled the Kaiser’s citadel at its heart.
Ahren stood against the ship’s rail, watching the hustle and bustle. Lunnisburg’s docks stood higher than other ports in Delakurn. Only the largest vessels, like his, could look down onto them. The decks of most stood even with, if not below, the city's floor. Workers scuttled up and down gangplanks and across the docks, carrying assortments of crates, baskets, livestock, and other goods. Whores and swindlers prowled the outskirts, close enough to offer temptations. More than a few of the citizens wore bundhosen or padded trousers, a fashion he’d never encountered in Lunnisburg before.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Captain Derstom stepped up beside Ahren.
“It is.”
“It’s a shame to lose you.” He clapped a hand firmly on Ahren’s shoulder. “You’re not only the first passenger to insist you worked the ship, but did so as competently as my best men. We’ll miss you.”
Ahren’s eyes narrowed on a muscular bald man sauntering through the crowd toward the vessel. “Thank you, Captain.” He reached up and squeezed the captain’s shoulder. “I hope to work with you again.”
Derstom smiled, revealing several missing teeth on his left side. “May you pass safely through the mist, my friend.”
“It’s not the mist that concerns me.” Ahren shouldered a large bag and walked across the gangplank to the dock. Keeping his face low, hidden beneath the brim of his wide hat, he made his way through the mob. Shallow puddles, stained gray with ash mud, dotted the cobbled ground.
The workers parted as the big man pushed his way through. “Don't pretend you don’t see me,” Volker growled.
“There’s no hiding you,” Ahren chuckled. “Have you ever grasped subtlety?”
Volker threw a thick arm around Ahren and squeezed. “Why be subtle? We’re two friends meeting at the docks. It happens every day.”
Conceding, Ahren hugged the bald man back. His eyes quickly scanned for anyone paying notice. Anyone watching the criminal would associate them. Disconcern for bounty hunters was something Volker might afford, but the price on Ahren’s head was far more.
Ahren eyed the bald man’s brown, leathe
r breeches. “I see you’ve adopted the latest fashion.”
Volker grinned. “Fourteen years and I still fit them. Don’t worry; it won’t be long before you have a pair as well.”
Ahren had heard of Lunnisburg’s recurrent plague. Every fourteen years, dyzen eels would come ashore to lay their broods. Usually, they chose rocky coves, but at some point in Lunnisburg’s long past, it had become a nesting ground, and the young that had been born there would return to carry on the lineage. “How long have they been here?”
“Just a few sightings, mostly at the docks and in the undercity. But there are going to be a lot more.” He motioned his head toward the street. “Come on. We need a drink, and Fritz is waiting.”
#
“Marvelous.” Fritz removed another cloth-wrapped gem from the doll’s hollow head and held it up in his calloused fingers. Muffled music seeped through the thick door to the main bar room. Aside from being the Tyenee’s Lunnisburg General, Fritz ran the city’s Performers Guild, a venture that yielded more income than the bar itself. Every minstrel and juggler in the city paid tribute, and in return, Fritz ensured fair wages and protection. “You and Garvyn did well.”
Ahren sipped his drink. “Not as well as we’d hoped. If I had known Customs was so lax, I’d have brought more.”
“The surge of people fleeing the city has them occupied. They’re more concerned with what they’re taking out than what few newcomers are bringing in.” He poured more of the dark wine into his cup. “Which is what brings us to our latest problem.”
Volker gave a tired sigh. Ahren knew it meant something especially bad.
“Lord Nahtler is a wealthy collector,” Fritz said. “His father, a hero in the Vuschkul War, made a fortune from the spoils nearly thirty years ago. Among them was a gold and jeweled mask, which the Vuschkuls had plundered. It’s one of Nahtler’s most prized possessions. It’s also quite coveted by one of his father’s former lieutenants, a Mister Kriegmon.”
Fritz knocked back his clay cup. “Nahtler lacks his father’s courage and was one of the first men to leave the city when the eels were first reported. Instead of traveling with many of his riches or leaving them at home, he rented a vault in the city’s storehouse. A veritable fortress. In the past ten years, we’ve broken into Lord Nahtler’s home twice. Neither time, even with a bribed servant, could our men find the mask. The storehouse is near impregnable, but not completely. And at least we’d know where the mask was. Volker and I had planned to have you retrieve it when you arrived.”
Ahren leaned back. “What happened?”
“Someone stole it last night,” Volker laughed.
Fritz slapped the table. “Five years! Five years we’d waited for him to store it, and now, it’s gone.”
“Any idea who it was?” Ahren sipped his wine.
The barkeep shook his head. “Not everyone leaves a black feather announcing themselves.”
He ignored the jab. “Was anything else taken?”
“Don’t know. The lockers are confidential. There’s no inventory list. So far, there’s been no official announcement of the theft. They don’t want their other customers to lose faith. Guards have doubled, and Customs has become overly thorough.”
“At least it means it won’t be leaving the city any time soon.” Ahren ran a hand over his stubbled cheek. “How do we know about it then?”
“We have a contact on the inside. A guard,” Volker answered. “He was going to help you when you got inside.”
“Let's find out what he knows. But I don’t want to meet him.”
The bald man's brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“If you were able to get to him, someone else might have. He’s corrupt. No need to show him who I am. Also, what about Kriegmon? Do you think he might have found someone else to do the job for cheaper?”
“It’s possible.” Fritz shrugged. “But I doubt it.”
“Until we find otherwise, we can’t rule him out. He wants the mask. How were you going to get it to him?”
“Ah.” Fritz gleamed. “That was the best part. He’s rented a vault there too. You were merely going to open his locker and put the mask inside. He’d recover it after the eels were gone.”
“So he’s already left the city?” Ahren asked.
“He has.”
“Regardless, I say we peek into his vault. It won’t rule him out entirely, but at least we’d know for sure.” Ahren refilled his cup. “If it was just thieves, they might be stupid enough to sell their treasure.”
“Volker was going to be checking the local fences. See if they’ve heard or seen anything.”
“I’ll go with you to talk to Whazzik.” Ahren turned to Volker. “He’s got the best ear for such things. And thanks to your exaggerated claims, he’s terrified of me.”
“No, the Black Raven’s reputation is enough to scare that little rat.” The bald brute smiled. “I merely planted the seeds before your own exploits made them unnecessary.”
“Then get to it.” Fritz stood and finished his wine. “Ahren’s right; it might not have left the city, but there's no promise it won’t. Or if they were just thieves, they might melt it and sell the jewels. I don't want to tell Kriegmon he’s waited years only to have us lose it. That mask was ours. Whoever stole it stole it from us.” He set the cup back on the table with a hard thud. “I expect them to pay.”
#
A group of soldiers marched down the street, unusually armed with double-pronged spears and clad in chain armor beneath their blue tabards. One of them held three leashed dogs, all barded in thick leather. Ahren watched them turn a side alley and descend stone steps leading down.
“Cleaning patrol,” Volker said. “Trying to kill the eels before they lay their young and also evicting the riffraff from the undercity before they’re eaten.” He spat.
“Can they kill them all? The eels, I mean.”
“Haven’t yet, but maybe. Every eel lays well over a hundred young. Once they grow up, they return to lay thousands more. It just takes a few survivors to bring the plague back. But if they don’t kill as many as they can, the eels would overrun us in one or two generations.” The bald man shuddered. “Disgusting creatures. Did you know they have teeth even down their tongues?”
Ahren shook his head.
“Once they bite, there’s no chance of getting away. I knew a guy who got bit once reaching behind a barrel to pick it up. It’d made its nest behind the casks. Swallowed his hand whole then started up his arm, holding with its tongue as it moved up.”
“What happened?”
“He managed to get to his knife with his left hand and drove it through the beast’s eye without stabbing himself.” Volker shook his head. “Didn’t matter. Even dead, it wouldn’t let go. Then, once they got it off of him, he was so mangled they had to cut off his arm above the elbow. Terrible.”
They stopped before a narrow shop face on the row of buildings lining the street. A sign above the door read, “Dhelruf Traders” beside the painted image of a sailing ship riding a giant sea turtle. Volker opened the shop door, which had a smaller door inset at the bottom, coming as high as Ahren’s navel. A bell jingled as they stepped inside.
The smell of spice and polished wood filled the tiny shop. They followed the tight row of furniture and artwork toward the back.
“Ah, my friends, it’s good to see you.” A salt-and-pepper-haired quellen smiled from atop a short ladder before a carved armoire. He discarded a dingy dust cloth and hopped down with a heavy thud. A glimpse of fear flashed in his gray eyes as they glanced to Ahren then back to Volker.
“What are you wearing?” Volker gave an amused smile, looking at the iron mail peeking beneath the three-foot shop-keep’s yellow trouser leg.
“This?” He pulled his laced collar open to reveal a chain shirt beneath. “I got it in Natralsy a few years ago. Quellish mail is the best, and they only make it for ourselves. Cost me a fortune.”
“But why?” the bald man asked. “An ee
l will gobble you up in one bite if it thinks you even have enough meat to make it worth it.”
Whazzik shot a cold stare. “Funny. But any dyzen who tries to get me is going to be in trouble. Meanwhile, they'll be chewing through that cheap dog shit you call armor.”
Volker gave a toothy smile. “Hopefully, neither of us will find out. I don’t blame you though. Not with a cellar leading straight to the undercity.”
The quellen snorted. “That? The old door and windows are sealed and mortared. Walls are two feet thick. Did it to keep any of the lowlifes from trying to chip their way in and rob me. No eel’s getting through there.”
“Doesn’t take a door,” Volker said, his voice lowering. “Just a couple loose stones. A hole just big enough for one of those things to squeeze through and lay a thousand slimy babies.”
Whazzik’s expression fell flat, the color dimming from his face. “I’m so happy you came by. Is there anything I can do for you, or are you just here to mock me?”
“Relax,” Volker laughed, throwing his hand up in surrender. “We’re here on business.”
“That’s more like it. Can I get you two anything to drink?”
Ahren shook his head. “Not this time. We just need to know if you’ve heard of anyone trying to fence some jewels or gold. More than normal.”
The tiny shopkeeper grinned. “Yeah, everyone. The market is flooded with people trying to sell heirlooms and baubles just to buy passage out of the city. Burglars are swarming, and half the time, they’re finding that whatever there is to steal has already been sold. Are you looking for anything in particular?"
“A gold and jeweled mask.”
Whazzik tugged at one of his huge, quellish ears. “No, haven’t heard but I can check around with some of the other fences.”
Volker removed a pair of gold coins from his purse. “Try not to mention the mask unless you have to. Don't want to scare the seller.”
“Who do you think I am?” Whazzik gave the towering man a condescending glare. “I didn't build my reputation by yapping everything I know.”
Sea of Quills (Tales of the Black Raven Book 2) Page 8