The Hellhound Consortium

by B A Simmons

  “The tide. If we wait for the high tide to lift the ship up, I think our pulling and digging will actually work.”

  Tim suddenly looked more fearful than frustrated. “Pete, you know when high tide is, right?”

  “Of course I do, Tim. But what choice do we have?”

  Trina sighed, “So we put out the dinghy and have men digging at the prow at midnight. Selkies be damned. It has to work.”

  “Let’s get the crew ready,” Pete said, and the council adjourned.

  Hours later, as the moon rose, Trina found herself standing in the same knee-deep water she’d jumped into when they hit the bar. Next to her were Michael, Oliver, and two other crewmembers. Trina held her spear at the ready, a short sword at her side and her now infamous stoic expression.

  The four men each held a spade, short swords, and axes hung at their sides while their visages shone pale with fear. They knew that on the opposite side of the ship, connected by two stout ropes, Tim sat in the dinghy with six rowers. Pete and the last of the crewmembers, plus Max, remained aboard the Old Man. All were armed. All were nerve-racked and worried. All waited impatiently for the tide to rise. They knew it would only come up another three or four feet, but they hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

  Oliver leaned over to Michael. “This proves it.”

  “Proves what?”

  “What they say about Cap’n Pete. You know . . . that he’s gone meecher.”

  “He’s not meecher. This is our best shot at getting out of here,” Michael retorted.

  Oliver was unsatisfied. “Yeah, but how many of us are going to end up a meal for the selkies to achieve it?”

  “Cap’n Pete knows what he’s doing.”

  “Yeah, sure he does. That’s why he’s up on the ship while we’re down here in the water.”

  “He’s up there keeping an eye on the water. He and the others have a better view from up there.”

  “Cap’n Pete is no coward,” Trina said. “You’d best stow such talk, Oliver.”

  “You don’t have any worries at all about this plan?” Oliver asked her.

  “Pete’s proven his courage and leadership to me. Give him a chance, and he’ll do it for you too.”

  “How’d he prove it for you?”

  “He fought at my side in the taking of the Alphina. And I have it from reliable sources he’s faced off against a hellhound.”

  “Really? A real hellhound? He killed it?”

  “No. Rob killed it, but Pete was standing with him the whole time.”

  Michael chided Oliver, “See! I told you he knows what he’s doing.”

  The water was rising. With each wave, it seemed to creep higher up the side of the ship.

  Peering over the side, Pete saw the rise and signaled both groups. The digging and pulling commenced while Pete focused his eyes in the dark to see possible dark shapes in the water. In truth, it wasn’t just selkies he was afraid of but sharks, octopus, or even a sea serpent. However, knowing that selkies had caused the death of the six sailors they’d marooned on the island made that concern foremost in his mind.

  “I think I see something!” Freddy called out. It was the third time he had done so.

  “Are you sure this time?” Max replied.

  “I . . . I think so.”

  Pete crossed the deck to join the crewman who was perhaps a year older than him, but far less experienced at sea. He strained his eyes to see what Freddy was pointing at. He couldn’t make anything out.

  At that moment, a scream sounded from the other side of the ship. Racing back, Pete looked over the side to see one of the diggers grappling with the clawed tentacles of an octopus. He hefted his harpoon and took aim. In the corner of his eye, he saw Trina running hard through the rising water with her spear. He threw the harpoon into the water where he estimated the head of the creature would be. The haft stood out of the waves and Pete figured he’d struck true when Trina thrust the point of her spear at the same spot. The tentacles flailed wildly and Freddy joined in with a crossbow bolt.

  “Don’t waste the bolts, they don’t fly true in water.”

  With those words of wisdom, Pete drew out his sword and jumped overboard.

  Trina was so focused on spearing the octopus that the sudden splash in the water hardly registered to her. Not even the steadily rising waves crashing over her head kept her from her task. Then the octopus suddenly reared its tentacles and turned away from her, which both surprised and confused her. Yet, it also opened an opportunity. Her long experience hunting this particular sea creature had taught her a secret.

  She drew in a deep breath and submerged herself. The sand in the water made it difficult to aim, but she found the sweet spot on the second jab. The octopus shrieked loudly as she drove her spear deep into the flesh below the head. Trina knew this is where its heart lay.

  The tentacles kept moving though. Striking the heart should have killed it immediately. Then Trina realized the awkward movements were a human figure fighting to free itself from the tentacles. After another moment’s struggle, Pete emerged from beneath them, soaked and smiling.

  The wounded crewman had been pulled away from the fight and now treaded water with the other three diggers. They climbed aboard just as the ship broke free from the sandbar’s grasp, pulled from the rear by the dinghy.

  By Pete’s order, a hook was thrown out and the octopus was hauled on board. A course was set for Engle Isle and the fire was stoked so that Pete and Trina could cook a feast for the crew. Almost all of them enjoyed roast octopus. Trina removed a claw to add to her trophy collection.

  Pete estimated that they should arrive back at Port John by daybreak. With that, and the fact that most of the crew was exhausted, he stayed at the tiller himself and sent them all to bed as soon they’d eaten their fill. Trina refused to sleep and remained at vigil on the forecastle.

  Pete tied off the tiller to keep their present course, then he joined her.

  “That was crazy,” she said as he approached.

  “Yeah, after everyone worrying about selkies so much, to be attacked by an octopus.”

  “I meant you jumping into the sea to fight the octopus.”

  Pete smiled, “Yes, well, you still scored the kill.”

  “And you scored the victory. The crew will follow you to Evan and back now that they’ve seen what you’ll do for them.”

  “Does this mean you too?” Pete asked.

  “Of course. I’m part of this now; have been part of it for some time.”

  There was a moment of silence before Trina asked, “Why would you ask that?”

  “Everyone knows that you and Rob . . . well, I understand now what it’s like to have your heart broken.”

  “Who says my heart was . . . no, my heart is fine. I’m fine.”

  “I was in love with Alphina Smith for years. I knew that whole time that she didn’t return my affection. Yet, I still loved.”

  “You were a meecher then, and now you know better.”

  “I just never thought she’d fall for someone like Roger!”

  “What’s wrong with Roger?”

  “Nothing. He’s just not me. Perhaps that’s why Alphina likes him.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would any woman like someone just because he’s not—oh, I see where you’re going here.”

  “Rob is like me—a romantic. We romantics love hard and long, but that means it’s even more difficult to let go.”

  “Are you suggesting I give Rob more time or give up on him? I’m not a romantic.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Before she could respond, Pete walked back to the tiller. Some time went by before Trina decided to give in to her body’s demand for sleep. Below deck was oddly quiet, as there was usually someone awake at any hour. However, it seemed everyone, even Tim, had taken advantage of Pete’s unusual generosity.

  But there was more than that. Something didn’t smell right. The smell of fish overwhelmed Trina’s
nostrils. She searched for the source, following it as a hound would nose out a hornbuck. She stepped carefully, noiselessly until she came to the ship’s bow.

  Freddy’s bunk.

  Though it was not Freddy she saw there by the dim lamplight, but something hideous and foul. Its lower half looked fish-like with a large dorsal fin, serrated scales, and a three-pronged flipper instead of feet. The upper half appeared no more pleasant but resembled something more land-bound. Two scaled arms, each ending in three clawed fingers, braced it against the hull. The grotesque head faced away from Trina until she gasped at the sight of it. Then it turned to look at her. Dark, lidless eyes were set on either side of a long snout that writhed back and forth like a serpent. At the end of the snout, four short but sharp teeth gnashed as the creature hissed. The sight made Trina freeze for one moment. That was all it needed.

  With speed belied by its ungainly structure, it pounced on Trina. The claws dug into her arms as it threw itself upon her. Trina fell onto her back with the weight of the creature pinning her down. The proboscis-like mouth searched for a place to bite into her. For the first time in many years, Trina let out a scream. She screamed in terror, fear for her life replacing stoicism. The crew was roused from their slumber, many of them mere feet away from the struggle. They cried out in panic themselves. Logan and Michael were the first to respond.

  Logan took hold of the creature around the middle and attempted to lift it off Trina. It fought back by clawing at his arms. Michael found his knife and plunged it into the creature’s chest. A dark ooze ran from the wound.

  This assistance freed Trina from the grasp of the monster and she drew her own blade. She expertly slashed, avoiding both her crewmates, and slit her attacker’s throat. More of the dark blood spilled onto each of them and the deck. Slowly, the hissing ceased and the creature became limp and still.

  “Make a hole! Coming through! Let me pass!” Pete pressed his way through the awakened crew to see what was happening.

  “What is that, Cap’n?” someone asked.

  After looking at it for just a moment, Pete knew what it was. “That’s a selkie.”

  Trina, her voice still shaking with adrenaline, said, “Freddy.”

  They all looked to Freddy’s bunk and saw his pale lifeless body. A trickle of blood still flowed from his neck where the selkie had taken hold of him.

  “It must have crawled aboard while we were getting off the sandbar. We never noticed it in the dark with all the commotion,” Tim said.

  Pete ordered the ship searched, but they did not find anything hiding in the dark corners. Nevertheless, none of them slept the rest of that night.

  Even before the sun rose, they saw Engle Isle ahead of them. Freddy’s body was burned with honors on the beach near Port John. Pete made note in his logbook to pay respects to his family once they returned to Isle de James.

  19 – Kudo Isle

  By the time the Rachael, a ship belonging to Baron Eric, arrived at Kudham, Poulustus Sahko was nearing the end of its wits. Rob found its descent toward madness fascinating, and at times, downright amusing. The first sign of discomfort was it walking repeatedly around the edges of the small cabin they were given on board. It didn’t speak a word during the entire voyage, at least not in its broken Engle. A few Duarvish phrases, which Rob was convinced were curses, came out at random times toward the end of the voyage, as it then also took to cocooning itself in a hammock.

  By far the most desperate (and at the same time humorous) moment came as the crew helped Rob and Doctor Morris disembark at Kudham. The two deckhands carrying the wooden chest in which Poulustus concealed himself, dropped it on the ground just beyond the docks. Rob was sure he heard the Duarve inside scream with the surprise fumble, but neither of the crewmembers seemed to notice.

  Rob located a tavern, which was the only place for visitors to stay in town. Together with Doctor Morris, he hauled the poor imprisoned creature into the relative safety of their shared room. It was good that Poulustus didn’t speak much, for the Kudhamites were indeed suspicious folk. The two men were eyed by the harbormaster, even though they had come in a vessel bearing Aruth’s baronial banner. They were also questioned by the tavern owner about their business on Kudo.

  Doctor Morris, keeping to his policy of honesty, had to admit they were there because they’d heard of the Duarve ruins. In return for his scruples, he and Rob received a lecture from the tavern owner on the vice of being too curious. It included a story about a cat being killed, or something to that effect. Rob wasn’t exactly sure what a cat was.

  Nevertheless, it seemed the locals didn’t see the two visitors as a threat, for on the following morning, when asked if there was someone who could guide them into the mountains, they were immediately given a name. Archie Cavanaugh was a tall, lanky man of middle-aged years. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, and trousers and jacket made of oiled leather. A large steel knife hung from his belt, and a longbow was slung across his shoulders.

  “Ye know it’s at least five days hiking into the mountains before ye even see ’em ruins,” he told Rob and Morris. “Longer if yeer not used to hiking.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to keep a good pace,” Doctor Morris said confidently. “I’ll have Rob carry me if I grow too weary.”

  Archie did not smile at the humor. “Yeer needing to buy the food an’ supplies, and I’ll only carry my own things, none of yeers.”

  “Understood. We’ll pack lightly,” Rob said.

  “I’ll require fifteen copper per day an’ I won’t go into ’em ruins nor bring anything back for ye. Advance payment for the first five days.”

  “That’s a fair price,” Doctor Morris said and extended his arm to shake. There was an awkward moment in which Archie simply stared at Morris’s hand. Rob reached into his satchel and provided Archie his payment. Only then did he shake arms with them.

  “Yeer ready to start today then?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  Rob found himself wishing he’d brought more money with him from Engle Isle. He’d left much of it in the care of his parents, having spent hardly any of it since their initial voyage aboard the Entdecker. They had sufficient funds for the expedition into the mountains, but to purchase passage back to Copper Isle, they’d likely need to sign on as crew.

  Poulustus did not appreciate climbing back into the chest. It appreciated even less having the chest strapped onto the back of an asino. Doctor Morris did his best to distract Archie while Rob tried to console the Duarve.

  It was not yet midday when the group set out from Kudham. Rob’s experience herding goats came in handy with the two asinos they’d rented. In fact, he found them much easier to direct than the oft wanton billies.

  Luckily for them, Archie kept to himself. He carried nothing but his bow and a satchel, most often ten or more paces ahead of them on the trail. Therefore, he did not notice when Rob cracked open the lid to the chest to allow Poulustus more air. However, their luck ran out that night as they made camp.

  Just as Rob loosened the strap holding it, the asino shifted its weight and the chest with the Duarve tipped, spilling the pitiful alien onto the ground.

  “What’s this then?!” Archie demanded. His hand went to the hilt of his large knife.

  Poulustus came to its feet in a moment, its stance showed he was ready to fight. It had nothing more than the small dagger Rob had seen it with on Aruth.

  Doctor Morris stepped between Archie and the Duarve. “It’s with us. It will do you no harm.”

  “Ye brought this thing here! What’s going on, stranger?”

  Rob stepped in to placate their guide. “It’s our colleague. After all, we are going to see Duarve ruins. We thought having a live Duarve with us would help us in studying them.”

  “An’ here I was thinking yeer the oddest pair of treasure hunters I’d met.”

  “We’re not treasure hunters,” Rob said.

  “Nay, I say not! Yeer worse than that! Yeer cavorting with Du
arves and studying ruins! I’ve had enough of this.”

  Archie hefted his satchel and began walking back down the trail.

  “Wait, wait!” Rob called out. “We need you to guide us to the ruins.”

  “Yeer meecher if ye think I’ll be mixed up with the likes of that!”

  “We’ll double your pay!” Doctor Morris said.

  “Triple it!” Archie demanded. “Triple or I walk!”

  “Done!”

  “An’ I expect yee’ll keep yeer mouths shut about it being with us. I’ve a reputation to hold.”

  “Not a word to anyone,” Rob swore.

  The rest of the night passed smoothly, or as smoothly as was possible. Archie kept giving Poulustus surreptitious glances as if he expected the Duarve to suddenly turn on him. Rob and Morris did their best to keep a sense of normalcy through conversation but neither Poulustus nor the guide spoke a word.

  The night was divided into three watches. Archie explained that rat hounds and herdbeasts were common in the area. The first was to be shot with his bow the moment it was spotted. The second was to be avoided by not seeming a threat. Should a herdbeast charge, their best chance of survival was to wait until it lowered its head. This was something they did to ram their opponents with their horns. Once the head was lowered, Archie said, then run sideways, get low to the ground and hope it loses sight of you.

  Rob took the first watch. He felt exposed and terrified. It was worse than standing watch in Alimia Castle, for at least then he had nine professional warriors to back him up. Here, they had only Archie’s bow and his axe aside from personal knives and daggers.

  Day two of their trek was through marshlands on a plateau surrounded by mountains. While passing through clearings, they caught occasional glimpses of peaks partially obscured by mist. The calls of strange animals sounded all around them, though Rob saw none of them save the annoying flies that occasionally tried to bite him. Archie called them sorflies and warned that they carried diseases.

  Aside from snatches of songs half muttered under his breath, they did not hear anything else from Archie that day. On the other hand, Poulustus recovered enough from the shock of the journey to talk. It was forced to ride atop one of the asinos; not because it was weary, but simply because the pace set by Archie was too fast for its shorter legs.