by A J Witt
“To be quiet!” Volos exclaimed.
“Quiet.” Kyran mumbled the word again. “Quiet, quiet, quiet …”
The exchange was peculiar, and Sabine turned to Edvon for an explanation. She found him sitting still, a dumb look on his face. “What’s going on?” The young woman pointed at the new arrival. “Haven’t you only just gotten here?”
The man smiled. “I’ve been here for hours.”
“Hah! Where have you been, girl?” clamored Volos. “Up with the birds?”
Kyran produced a sound to imitate a bird, eliciting a roar of laughter from the others. Sabine jumped to her feet, her heart racing. Everyone was acting strange. “We … we should leave,” she whispered to Edvon.
“But y—you still haven’t h—had a drink,” the Adept answered, words slurring.
“In the name of Auralus … you too?” The young woman stepped away from the campfire, and the newcomer rose to follow her. “Leave me alone!”
“Only if you taste the drink.” He held out the flask once more.
“No.”
“Have some.”
Sabine stumbled further backward. Her companions had yet to move, and even Volos was sitting still, gazing at nothing in particular.
“Have some,” the man repeated.
“I don’t want any.”
“Yes, you do.”
As he spoke, his head twisted, and his forehead rotated down and past his abdomen at a wicked angle. From around his waist sprouted a set of tentacles, shaking as they extended out. Sabine screamed.
“Have some.” The man was distorting into a nightmarish creature. His clawed hind legs doubled in size, raising him high into the air, and he opened his mouth, revealing a foul and terrifying set of sharp teeth.
Sabine’s scream got caught within her throat.
“You will have some!”
Unable to speak, she turned to escape yet tripped and fell to the ground. Spinning onto her back, Sabine found the creature on top of her, drooling and smacking its jaws. The young woman tried to move but was restrained by the beast. She attempted to catch her breath. And then, woke up in utter panic. I … it … was just a dream.
Sabine sat upright, rubbing her eyes. She was in a large and somber room with wooden walls covered by a tattered and decaying black material. Where am I? The young woman surveyed her surroundings and gasped at the sight of several small cages in a row, holding motionless bodies. Are … are they alive? Sabine felt sick. She spotted Edvon and Kyran lying on the ground and nudged them frantically. Both remained unconscious.
The young woman heard a creak. The man in gray robes had returned, and she fell back to the floor, pretending to be fast asleep. He was humming a simple melody, washing his hands in a sink. Only then did Sabine notice the smell of the putrid room exacerbating her nausea. Heart pounding, she cautiously opened one eye. The man was standing near the wall furthest from her. Sleeves rolled up, he bent over to turn an odd looking lever in a clockwise motion. Sabine watched in horror as a woman was lowered from the ceiling. Her hands and wrists were tied together, and she had been hanging on a hook attached to the end of a pulley, like a freshly killed geega in a market. The psychopath unhooked the poor woman and dragged her toward one of the cages.
“Now that we have fresh meat,” he murmured, “you won’t be needed for a while.”
Sabine listened as the man lifted one of the brothers. Squinting and trying hard to ignore the odor, she watched Kyran get tied to a metal table, thick leather straps immobilizing him.
“Oh, I know, it’s not time to wake up just yet. Dear me, it’s hours too early. Your medicine wouldn’t have worn off.” The deranged man scratched his head with the tip of his index finger. “Maybe I know a way.” Turning to a shelf on the wall, he perused a collection of sharp and pointed utensils. “If I could just find the right one …”
In her own estimation, Sabine’s heart was about to suffer a massive cardiovascular failure, precipitated by the vile stench permeating the place.
The man hurried to the corner of the room. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back.” He pulled up the bottom of his robes and proceeded to urinate into a big pit. Sabine started to move not fully aware of her actions. Darting toward the repulsive man, she aimed to knock him into the hole. He spun around, but it was a second too late. The young woman heard the anticipated splash.
“Ah!” the madman screamed from below. “Ah!”
Sabine crawled toward the pit and peeked over the edge. She jerked back her head, as it became evident where the horrid smell was coming from. Pinching her nose, she glimpsed once more. The man at the bottom was covered in a slimy substance. Excrement, blood, and … enough! Sabine looked away.
“Let me out, let me out of here!”
Ignoring the man’s pleas, the young woman raced to the metal table, brushing the utensils to the floor.
“Throw me a rope. Help me, you must!”
Sabine sat Kyran upright, but he slumped to the side, still drugged.
“I’ll die down here, there’s no way out.”
“Shut up!” screeched Sabine. She shook Edvon, finding he too was in a deep slumber. Why did I, of all people, wake up before them? None of it made any sense.
“It’s too high, I can’t reach. Please, let me out!”
Sabine clenched her teeth. She wanted to drop a brick on the man’s head. Looking around, she noticed other crippling devices and many more ropes hanging from beams in the rafters.
“I’ll die down here.”
“I said shut up!”
“If you let me out, I’ll tell you what I did to your friend. I swear I will.”
Friend? Sabine was unsure whom he was referring to. Then it hit her. Volos. She brought a hand to her stomach and decided it was better not to know the villager’s fate.
“Let me out!”
Sabine sat near Kyran, cupping her hands over her ears to mute the madman’s shouts. And then she waited. And waited. Until the brothers regained consciousness.
“What’s going on?” Edvon asked groggily.
“We need to leave,” answered the young woman.
The psychopath heard the new voice. “Wait, let me out!”
“Who’s that?”
“I said we need to leave!” screamed Sabine. “Now!” The two stupefied Adepts followed her through a dark hallway to a door opening onto the woods. Once outside, the young woman ran as fast as she could, stopping only when her legs would carry her no farther. The others struggled to keep up.
“You need to tell us what’s happening,” demanded Edvon.
“We were in some sort of room … some torture chamber,” she answered, “and there were knives, and … and ropes, and cages, and … by the Recital Supreme!”
“What?”
Sabine gasped. “The others.”
“What others?”
“There were others in cages. We left them there!” Without another word, she retraced her steps, the bewildered Adepts blindly following once more. The psychopath’s cabin came into view. It was the second worst sight.
Gorgios and his band of cutthroat Overseers were standing by the entrance. The senator brought a leg up and kicked open the front door. “Search the house! They’re here somewhere.” He scanned the woods, sniffing for a scent like a mad dog.
PART III
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ocean Star’s bright indigo rigging contrasted with a jet-black hull as the vessel rocked in the Bay of Alboran. Phaidrosians overcrowded the docks and streets or were looking out of their windows with great anticipation. It was a venture years in the making. A group of leaders walked down the steps of the wharf and into an awaiting rowboat. Several faced the throng and waved. Through a combination of accomplishment and luck, they were the ones chosen to crew the fleet’s crown jewel. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.
Aiden glanced to his left and caught Lecarn’s attention. They grinned and turned their gaze toward the approaching schooner. Ocean Star’
s collection of ropes seemed to run aimlessly, crisscrossing each other mid-air, curling up the masts, and looping around the boom. To an amateur, the tangled mess of hoops and knots was nothing less than complete chaos. But to one who had studied them, it represented a work of art. The faint hum of the boat’s engines signaled an imminent departure, and Aiden’s heart leapt. Grabbing the ladder strung down Ocean Star’s hull, the young man lifted himself up. Within seconds, he was on board and making his way toward the ship’s bow.
Lecarn followed close behind. “You ready?”
“Yeah, I think.” The two of them had become friends, having trained side by side during the past months. For inexplicable reasons, Aiden believed he could trust Lecarn with his life. “And you?”
Laughing, Lecarn dashed to his assigned position, and Aiden shook his head. They were part of a small class of leaders in a crew of one hundred hardened sailors, and their preparations had been strenuous. Constant exercise and dieting, combined with intense nautical studies, nearly pushed Aiden to the brink. All for a rather pedestrian task, sailing as far as possible in a single direction and stopping only when the engines would force them to turn around. The entire fleet was equipped with the newest Source-powered motors, products of years spent in the Academy’s refinement facilities. Despite their power, the major source manipulator had warned they would only last for two months, and not a day more. It was a margin of error that often kept Aiden awake at night.
He looked back to shore. Everyone was there to see them off. Lord Lester gave a speech at the steps of the Apex, a rousing rhetoric about the glorious Dominion and its search for something Aiden soon forgot. In an uncommon show of solidarity, Preceptor Marrek and Rex Quintus jointly delivered the keys of Phaidros to the fleet’s captain. Later on, Aiden walked near the Temple’s delegation. The young women were stunning, their beauty enhanced by the buzz of a preposterous adventure that provided no guarantee as to anyone’s survival. Not one fisherman in the Dominion ventured beyond sight of the shoreline, it had never been done. And now, a whole fleet was being sent into the unknown.
The sound of a horn resonated throughout the bay, prompting the captain to engage full speed ahead. The crowd roared, and Aiden took a deep breath. He watched as men on the ship in front of his moved around, yanking down on sets of designated cords. An assemblage of mighty sails made its way up the masts. Realizing his own vessel was undergoing a similar transformation, Aiden spun around and was met by a flurry of activity. Lecarn could be heard bellowing orders as they accelerated. Resolute, Aiden jumped onto the railing and pointed at a cluster of ropes …
* * *
Lifting his hand from Ocean Star’s railing, the chief cut short a flow of memories from the Great Expedition.
“Are you okay?” asked Criss, frowning.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s just … umm … let’s go find the captain.”
They walked across the deck. Ocean Star’s marginal state, its sole purpose being to transport people and goods down the Wimau River, depressed Aiden. Ducking past a familiar set of wooden doors, the chief led the way through a narrow passageway to a ladder he used many times during his voyage two decades prior. Now, the ship carried a wealthy clientele, and the cabins were retrofitted to match their tastes. Quite different from what I was given. They climbed up to the captain’s topside deckhouse. Aiden peeked inside.
The old man was sitting in the middle of the cabin, his elbow on a table and cheek resting in the palm of a calloused hand. Unhurried, he looked up then down, accomplishing nothing more than verifying the identity of the visitor. A weather-beaten face indicated work kept him busy. Dressed in a heavy coat that matched his dark pants, the balding captain gave off a rather unsympathetic countenance, granted one Aiden grew accustomed to long ago. “What’re you here for?” He had not lost his proclivity for candor, either.
“Battalion business, I’m afraid,” answered the chief.
The sailor spat into a tin cup on his desk. “Everything’s up to code on this ship.”
“That’s not why we’re here.”
“By Gods, Two-Eyes, just let it out.”
Surprised the captain remembered his nickname, the chief dithered about what to say.
“A suspect in a murder we’re investigating was a crew member on this ship,” Criss said in a formal tone. “We’re going to need some information from you regarding his—”
“Oh, is that so?” The old man’s eyes were now fixed on the agent.
“That’s right. Can you tell us if anyone in your crew is missing?”
“Why don’t you come over here, sweetheart?” The captain waved his arm. “You can sit on my lap and ask any—”
“Alright,” cut in Aiden. “Enough.”
“I’m your Captain, boy! You will speak when addressed.”
As if hypnotized, the chief stood at attention, clacked his boots together, and raised a hand to his head in salute. “Yes sir!”
And for the first time in a while, Criss laughed.
“Very funny,” muttered Aiden, embarrassed his muscle memory got the better of him.
The captain adjusted his chair. “Just kidding with you, chief.” More cooperative, he proceeded to answer Criss’s question. “Been missing a crew member for about a month now. Name’s Drube. From some dread village, ended up running with a band down in Portown. That’s where I picked him up. Was on board for a couple months.”
Criss was collecting notes. “Where did he go?”
“Off the ship.”
“I mean, in which city?”
“There’s only one city in this dread land.”
“So you’re saying Phaidros?”
The captain rolled his eyes. “Is there anything else you need to know?”
“Yes.” Aiden stepped forward. “Did he do anything out of the ordinary while on this ship?”
“I don’t pay attention to my crew’s private life.” The old man spat again.
“Okay. Where did he live?”
As he rose to his feet, the captain exhaled with an exaggeration commensurate to his displeasure. He pulled out a large leather book from a shelf built into the ship’s wooden hull and brought it back to the table. The sailor flipped one sheet at a time, breathing sharply with each new turn. He stopped. “Portown. Known family, a certain Zakus, brother. Also Portown.”
“Why didn’t you report him missing?” asked Criss.
“You think I’ve time to chase after every Source loving deserter? And anyway, I don’t much care what a man does if he’s not on this ship.”
“Unless what he does is against Dominion law.”
“Even if it’s against Dominion law. It’s just not my problem.” The captain flashed them a snaggle-toothed smile. “That’s what they got you two for.” He slammed the book shut and returned it to the shelf. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“If we want to go to Portown, could you potentially arrange … you know?”
“You’re more than welcome to purchase your fare, there’s a ticket shop near the docks.” Another spit. “I believe we’re not sold out at the moment.”
Aiden opened his mouth, determined it was pointless to pursue the conversation, and left.
“You want to go to Portown?” Criss asked.
“Don’t you want to solve this case?” replied the chief, his tone gorged with sarcasm.
“Yes, but—”
“The guy’s from Portown. He’ll have living quarters there, we already know his brother’s name, perhaps some friends. All potential leads. Someone has to go … I mean, it’s all we’ve got.” Aiden sighed and pushed open the doors leading to Ocean Star’s deck. He walked toward the gangway and turned around to face Criss only once on shore. “What’s happening?”
“Sir?”
“We’re investigating arguably the biggest murder in history, and you’re acting as if it’s a trivial case. Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s because we have too much o
n our plate. When the news about the two Adepts came out, as absurd as it was, I thought it would resolve itself, but clearly not.”
“Someone will find them.”
“You think?”
“They can’t stay hidden forever.”
“I know people who have,” said Aiden. “Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough, now that a Temple hit squad’s on the loose.” He sighed yet again. “Then, the village attacks and not a dread-forsaken clue.”
“And the Killer of Murcavis.”
Aiden shot his colleague a quizzical look.
“It’s what they’re calling him,” she added.
“Gods. Less than a day and they already have a name.” The chief shook his head in disgust.
In the early hours of the morning, news spread that a delegation of Overseers had stumbled upon the home of a serial killer in the Woods of Murcavis. Details were still unclear. The psychopath would capture unsuspecting victims and keep them confined to the cottage where he was found. He employed a powerful narcotic, one with which Aiden had a decent amount of experience. Early in his career, he often witnessed junkies using the liquid for the hyper-realistic and powerful hallucinations it induced. Afterward, they would pass out hours on end, unable to be awakened.
“… we might want to get involved before it’s too late,” said Criss.
“Hmm?”
The agent rolled her eyes, frustrated with Aiden’s short attention span. “I said if we want to get involved before it’s too late, we might want to pay the Temple a visit instead.”
The chief sighed. They had found a pit in the back of the serial killer’s home, what would best be described as a waste disposal with a smell so vile, several Overseers were still feeling sick from exposure. The Battalion’s inside sources submitted descriptions of the scene, and they were equally disturbing. The whole gamut of perverse tools and materials, and hardly any survivors. “You know what? I don’t want anything to do with it. As far as I’m concerned, that cholee is the Temple’s problem, not ours.”
“But—”
“There are no buts here,” interjected Aiden. “They can burn him, hang him, cut him up like a geega, I don’t give a flying pip. Let’s focus on our own problems first. One thing at a time.”