by Galen Wolf
Cuthbert nods insistently. ‘I do. Jabberwock murderers! You’re no better than her!’ He jabs his finger at Elizabeth.
She has a strange smile on her face. ‘So that’s what the quest was about — Jabberwock blood.’
The cat’s out of the bag.
I say, ‘We need the blood, but maybe we can get it without killing the Jabberwock?’
Cuthbert’s eyes are fiery. ‘What? Like a Jabberwock blood donation programme?’
‘Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but—’
‘Yeah, it sounds downright bizarre and impossible too. Gorrow, I thought you had your head screwed on right, but now…’
Then the helmsmen shouts. ‘Sea-serpent ahead at our two o’clock.’
I twist to see about three hundred yards away there’s a great boiling of froth and spume. Something huge and slimy looking is breaking water. It’s like a great tubular worm with a head that’s made of teeth and no eyes.
Fitheach mutters. ‘If that thing sinks us, the eggs are going to the bottom of the sea. Irrecoverable.’
Cuthbert says, ‘Sea serpents have huge amounts of health.’
The thing has gone underwater again, but I see the disturbance on the sea surface like there’s a torpedo running. Cuthbert yells, ‘Head for shore. We’ll fight it, but just in case.’
The helmsman jams the rudder violently to starboard and we begin to change course. But the sea-serpent is gaining on us.
‘Can you fire at it?’ I ask Elizabeth and Fitheach and they both step to the boat’s edge and light and dark rays of energy speed from them to smack into the sea-surface. What damage they’ll do to something submerged, I don’t know.
I turn to see the mules and Spirt at the stern. Henry’s rolling his eyes and showing his teeth. He sees me looking. ‘I’m fine, Gorrow. Don’t worry about us beasts. We’re not scared of getting eaten by a worm. You just get on with your job of defending us.’
Without any ranged attack, I’m useless here but I draw my sword anyway.
Then the thing comes up like a surfacing submarine, huge and fanged. Water pours from it and a high pitched keening breaks from its huge mouth. Its vast maw opens and it’s like staring into an underground train tunnel, except one that’s ringed with circles and circles of hooked teeth. The thing is massive, rearing up, it’s forty feet high at least.
Elizabeth fires and hits. I see a circle of gangrene on the thing’s slimy smooth body where her dark energy has damaged it. Fitheach fires his holy energy and so does Cuthbert. The serpent screams and there’s a smell like seared tuna steak then it vomits up yellow bile and spews it over us.
My companions hit it again but it slams its trunk down on our ship. The impact smacks us down and we plunge into the water. Huge waves splash round us, with gallons of sea water coming on board. The wooden hull splinters with a loud crack and more water comes in through the breaks in the wood.
‘Bail for your lives,’ Cuthbert yells to his crew and they find wooden buckets and begin hurling all the shipped water back out into the sea.
Elizabeth and Cuthbert and Fitheach are firing energy bolts at the thing and the smell of burning and rot fills the air. It pukes up bile again and again I’m damaged for 200.
I sip a healing potion and I’m ready as it slams its head down on the boat. I lunge with my sword.
But it smashes the boat down and once again, the sea comes flooding over the bow. The NPC crew frantically bail us out, but more water is coming in than they can get rid of. The wooden hull cracks ominously again. One more smash from the worm and we’ll break up.
I glance at the two boxes containing the Jabberwock eggs then at the sea around us. We’d never find these eggs if they fell to the bottom of this turbulent and murky sea. We’re still on the course previously set and I see the helmsman has lashed the rudder. There must also be a current here taking us in to shore. I see a pebbly beach about a mile off. We’ll be broken up long before we get there.
The worm screams and rears and three energy bolts strike it. It vomits more bile and I’m damaged again, but this time its yellow bile is tainted with black blood. Its attacks are weaker. I see it rear. This is it. We’re going down if it hits us again.
‘Please, kill it,’ I mutter and as if in answer to my words all three of them fire their energy bolts and the thing screams and dies, plunging under the sea like someone dropping an iron chain into the water with a hiss of steam and a stink of burned flesh.
But that’s not the end of our worries. The ship is broken. I’m calf deep in water now.
‘Bail!” Cuthbert yells to the crew, and pushes past the mules and Spirit to get to the rudder. He begins to steer all the while shout, ‘Bail! Bail you fools, get the water out.’
I find a bucket and begin slopping out the water as fast as I can. We’re doing some good, but the water is almost to my knees now. I hear Bessie whinny in fear.
We’re headed inland. Maybe we make it. Cuthbert clutches the rudder grimly and has our prow fixed on the beach, but it’s so far away still.
Black rocks break surface on either side of us. If we hit anything like that, it’ll rip the bottom out of the boat.
I bail and bail and risk glances at the beach. We’re getting closer.
We bail some more and the water’s gone down to mid-calf again. But all the crew and me and Elizabeth and Fitheach are bailing water out like crazy. If we stop, then we are going to sink.
But we are getting closer to the beach. I keep at it and when I next look we’re about five hundred yards out. We haven’t yet hit any of the rocks, thanks to Cuthbert’s expert steering. Even with this crippled craft.
I dip my bucket and throw out the dark -frothed water back out into the sea. It’s cold. I dip and throw and dip and throw and when I next look, we’re two hundred yards out from the welcoming shingle of the shore.
We might make it. There are still plenty of rocks, maybe more than there were, but I have to trust Cuthbert.
Then we slow. I glance back at Cuthbert.
He’s shaking his head. ‘There’s a reverse swell off the beach. It’s pushing us back.’
The boat rolls and pitches, half full of water. It’s back up to my knees.
‘Can we swim?’ I yell.
Fitheach answers. ‘It’s still deep.’
‘I’m going to try something,’ Cuthbert says, and he thrusts the rudder so we begin to slosh and turn slowly right. He’s going to try and ride the swell and come in so we hit the beach at an oblique angle. We’re further out than we were before. Over two hundred yards now, but I can’t take my concentration off bailing out water. I just have to trust Cuthbert. I see the boxes of Jabberwock eggs bobbing in the water that now fills the boat.
Cuthbert’s look is of intense concentration as he guides up along the waves. We’re getting closer!
And then there’s an almighty rip as an underwater rock rips the guts out of the boat and it disintegrates.
Shipwreck
As the boat breaks up, I first think of Spirit. And then Henry and then the rest of them. I start towards Spirit then I stumble as my foot goes through a hole in the boat’s bottom and I fall face-first into the water, then get to my knees then feet as the boat comes apart. Fitheach splashes around in the water, going for the box of Jabberwock eggs. Cuthbert does the same, the NPCs sailors jump and swim, trying to avoid the evil black rocks that show above the grey waves like rotten teeth.
Staggering and falling, I get to Spirit who’s throwing his head back and rolling his eyes. I take my dagger and cut the leather strap that tethers him to the boat. He’s going to have to swim. We all are. The water is now at groin level. Next, I cut Henry and Bessie free.
‘Thanks, boss.’ Henry says. ‘I’m off. Me and Bessie. Sorry for not waiting.’ And with that the mule wades through the water which rises in waves up to his shoulders and thro
ws himself into the tide. Bessie goes after him and I see two mules doggy-paddling their way to the shore through the turbulent water. Spirit’s next. It’s as if he’s waiting until I’m okay, but there’s no need for that. I slap him on his muscled back. ‘Go, boy. Swim.’
Fitheach has a box of Jabberwock eggs and is using it as a flotation device. His grey-white hair spreads out on the waves. Gulls hover above, hoping we’ll die so they can eat us.
Fitheach’s kicking his feet to give him propulsion and goes over the ship’s bow as it plunges then he too is away and kicking for shore. Cuthbert’s still on the ship, holding onto that mast.
‘Go,’ I say. ‘What are you waiting for?’
‘The second box of Jabberwock eggs. They’ve gone. I can’t see them.’
He’s scanning around in a panic. But with all the flotsam and the water shipping in, it’s hard to see anything. The box might be among the floating debris, or it might already be lost at sea. At least Fitheach has a box and I see him halfway to shore.
‘Go Cuthbert, Fitheach has a box. We’ve lost these ones.’
Cuthbert blusters halfway between fear and anger. ‘She’s got them. Your evil friend. I’m certain of it.’
I look around for Elizabeth Bathory. In the confusion I’ve missed where she’s gone. She’s certainly not on the ship now. The waves are breaking all around us and I couldn’t see her if I looked. I try to sound calm. ‘No point drowning here. You die here, then you’re back at Lindisfarne, and you’ll never get free of them once they have you there.’
He’s still panicking. I reach over and clap his shoulder. The water is chest high now. I can feel wood below my feet, but I can’t see it through the dirty sea-water. ‘Go, Cuthbert. Please. Come with me.’
But he doesn’t wait. He launches himself into the waves and is soon swimming in a powerful Australian crawl style towards the beach.
Then the wood below my feet disappears and I go down. The water is in my helm and my eyes. I can’t see anything. I’m weighed down with plate-armour. I once considered putting points in Swimming but thought it would be a waste. Just goes to show.
The mast comes away from the boat and I hurl myself to grab onto it, holding it under my arms. It’s big enough to float me, just really hard to steer. I try kicking, but it just fills my mouth with brine.
I kick again.
This could get tedious. I try again, take some more damage, but I seem to be getting the hang of it. I have moved a few feet in the right direction, though I know if I lose my grip on the mast, I’m going to be back at Silver Drift and Fitheach will have to get the Jabberwock eggs back home without my help through a hundred miles of enemy territory.
I kick again. I’m taking less damage now. I make progress. I’m coughing and spluttering as the cold water fills my mouth and nose, but I’m still holding the mast and I’m slightly closer to shore.
I kick and kick. At one point I risk raising my head and see Fitheach and Cuthbert on the shore with Spirit and Henry and Bessie. Thank God they all got there safe.
Then the mast turns and my hands slip. It floats away from me. An inch but I’m still going down without its buoyancy. I dip under the water and get a lungful of sea which makes me jerk up, coughing. I’m scrabbling for the mast. If I don’t get it, I’m going down.
But I do. My finger ends touch the wood and I spin it towards me. It turns easily in the water and then I grab it. I grip with my hands then pull it close so it’s under my armpits again. Taking a second to cough up the seawater while I hang on the wood, I look landward with brine-filled and stinging eyes.
They’re there staring anxiously and helplessly toward me. I start to kick again. I nearly lose it when I’m about fifty yards from the pebble shore, and the water here’s still deep enough to drown me, and I’ve taken a bit more damage from drowning and I’m down to 590 health, but salvation is in sight.
With more coughing, I feel the sand under my feet and step with bouncing steps until it’s solid enough to walk on. I let go of the mast and emerge dripping from the water to the hugs and back slaps of both saints.
Spirit whinnies and comes over, nudging his head against me.
‘Glad you’re safe, boss.’ Henry says. Bessie smiles.
‘So pleased you made it, Gorrow—’ Fitheach says.
‘—you had us going there, my friend. Thought you were a goner.’ Cuthbert’s smiling now. I glance over and see a wet box by Fitheach’s feet. I point, still coughing. ‘You got the box safe.’
‘The other one’s gone,’ Cuthbert says, his white hair dark grey now it’s sodden.
Then I see a figure higher up on the beach wearing black. It’s Elizabeth Bathory and she’s carrying the other box. Suspicion twists in my like a knife. ‘Hey!’ I yell.
She hears me and turns, standing motionless and in my paranoia I think she’s considering whether to run. But instead she raises a hand and starts to walk toward us, carrying the box in both arms.
Cuthbert looks at Fitheach who shrugs then Cuthbert shouts, ‘Bring that box here!’
She’s close enough so we can hear her now. ‘I was doing!’
‘Looked like she was trying to slope off,’ Cuthbert says to me. I think he’s right, but she’s coming our way now.
Water’s dripping out the bottom of the box she’s carrying.
‘Water won’t hurt the eggs?’ I ask Cuthbert.
He shakes his head.
‘At least we’ve got them back,’ Fitheach says. ‘I’m sure she was going to bring them back.’
I glance at him knowingly, then look back at Elizabeth. She’s smiling as she places the box down on the pebbles among the shells and dry seaweed. ‘That was close, eh? Thought we’d had it.’
I’m about to say something when I see her look up over my shoulder and focus on something behind me in the sky. I turn and see two shapes coming fast and dark from the north cliff. They’re swooping as fast as fighter jets, but almost silent on rubbery wings.
Cuthbert turns. ‘Nightgaunts!’
‘What?’ Fitheach’s forehead furrows in alarm. He hasn’t seen them yet. He turns and gets one full in the face. The impact bowls him over and he goes sprawling on his back in the pebbles. That must have been a crit. The nightgaunt lands on him, mantling him with its rubber wings like a bird of prey protects its catch from an enemy. It reaches down with a mouth full of fangs and rips open the saints chest.
With a scream Fitheach dies, and his silent ghost emerges from his corpse.
Damn.
The other nightgaunt dives at Cuthbert but he sees it coming and tumbles right. Then he turns and fires. He hits it with a searing beam of white light and a horrible stench of burning fills the air.
I draw my sword and rush at the nightgaunt that killed Fitheach. I hack down at it and its red blood runs across the pebbles.
It jumps up and leaps but my shield blocks its attack and I jab it again, this time getting a Doublestrike. It attacks again and my luck is in; I block it again and I jab and get a crit and the thing dies screaming.
Cuthbert kills his enemy then he turns to Elizabeth. ‘Why didn’t you fight? I didn’t see you fire any magic at all at the nightgaunts.’
She shrugs. ‘I saw that you had it. If you were worried you wouldn’t be able to kill the nightgaunt on your own you should have just asked.’
Cuthbert shakes his head. ‘Fitheach died.’
I sigh. ‘He’ll be okay. He’s bound at Silver Drift.’
‘But it’s one less of us to get the Jabberwock eggs to safety. If what you said on the boat is true, that their…’ He can’t bring himself to say ‘blood’, so he waves the thought away and says, ‘If they’re that valuable, we can’t let the enemy have the
m.’
‘I agree.’
He grimaces. ‘But we’re in the middle of enemy held territory.’
‘I know.’
‘That’s not good. We’ve a lot of territory to cross and there’s just two of us.’
‘Three,’ Elizabeth says with a sweet smile. ‘I’m on your side, guys.’
I look at her. I trust her less and less, but she could be useful in some way still or I’d tell her to leave.’
‘I’ll carry one of the boxes if you want?’
Cuthbert gives a hollow laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’
I gesture to the mules. ‘We’ll put one on Henry. You can ride him Cuthbert. I’ll put the other on Spirit.’
He nods and we get to it. As I’m strapping the box on Spirit I ask, ‘So, these are quest items, right? So if I die, they’ll simply drop to the ground where I died and anyone can come and pick them up.’
‘That’s right.’
‘I’d better not die then.’
He laughs. ‘Good plan, Gorrow.’
I step up into the stirrup and swing my leg over. Cuthbert mounts Henry. Elizabeth’s still standing there. ‘Am I included?’
I nod. ‘Get up on Bessie.’
She steps over to the mule who seems reluctant to let Elizabeth ride her. I see Henry giving her the evil eye. Henry may only be a mule, but he’s got good judgement.
We ride up the beach through the dunes with their brown wilted grass. The grass here is diseased and the red and black haze reminds us we are in Satanus’s country. I’m riding alongside Cuthbert.
‘Fitheach was telling me you want to be a Paladin.’
I nod. ‘I did.’
‘You did? It’s a great class. A massive advantage on the battlefield, lots of defence, lots of self-healing. Why do you say ‘did’?’
I suck my lip. ‘You see I’ve built up a settlement at Silver Drift.’
Elizabeth calls forward. ‘I thought it was just a dungeon?’
I ignore her. I’m talking to Cuthbert. ‘So, I don’t want to lose that.’
He nods. ‘I see that. But give the Paladin prestige class serious consideration. The King will need paladins if he’s ever to retake the north.’