The morning invited low clouds and a fine drizzle that soaked the deck and its crew thoroughly.

Kaleb trudged through the crew deck hallway and rapped at Iridia’s door. “Irida.”

Her voice was faint. “Yes?”

“We should ready. Captain mentioned port is coming…Old Wills.”

The door opened and Iridia stood before him with a sullen look. She had grown. Taller, stronger, her face had sharpened. Kaleb hadn’t noticed, but he remembered her being a timid mouse when he first met her.

“I ache.”

Kaleb’s tongue rolled in his mouth. He took her by the chin and turned her face to catch the light of the lantern that lit the hall. “Your face is still marked.”

“I am not healing…”

“You are, but it is slowing.”

“Why?”

“I do not know, I also ache. I have tried to commune with the divine heart but she isn’t opening her gates to me.”

Iridia grimaced. “It’s the Demon isn’t it?”

“A solid theory.”

“Without my ability to heal I am nothing, Kaleb.”

Kaleb frowned. “The alternative is not worth thinking of, Iridia. We must be more careful.”

“I fired a cannon at you.”

“It was a marvellous shot.”

Iridia forced a thin smile, “How is Morgan?”

“He tossed himself overboard.”

“Stop it.”

“Something about his heart bleeding for you,”

Iridia huffed. “You are a fool, master. Please be kind to him…”

Kaleb nodded. “I was a tad flat with him last night. Perhaps you should break hearts during the daytime, not when I am trying to sleep.”

“I shall find and speak to him.”

Kaleb rolled his eyes before slapping her on the shoulder. “I shall speak to the Captain.”

***

“Couple o’ hours should be,” Wurtheim spoke as he peered through his spyglass.

“How can you see anything through this mist?” Kaleb said.

“Be surprised what details poke through the cracks, just need to be more observant.” Wurtheim turned his head and offered a sickly smile. “Won’t be long now, we can have this wrapped up.”

“What do mean?”

Wurtheim licked his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes, “You know, this job.”

“What job?”

“Ferrying you, lad! Forgettin’ why you’re here?”

“Why am I here, Captain?”

“Because you asked me to bring you here.”

“I didn’t ask you to bring us to this Wills port.”

“I told ye, supplies.”

“Indeed…I’d prefer that we skip this port and head straight for shore.”

“No can do.”

“Why?” Kaleb wiped his eyes in vain as the rain drenched him finely.

“Supplies.”

“Can’t you fetch them after you dropped us off?”

“Nay.”

Kaleb’s jaw clenched before he left toward the steps down into the crew deck. He caught Morgan’s arm as he passed. “Morgan.”

“Yes?” His face was dower and pale.

“Little task for you.”

“Anything to occupy the mind.”

Kaleb’s eyes wandered to hide from the awkwardness, “Right, check the supplies, report back.”

“Why?”

“Something felt off about the Captain.”

“You don’t trust him? He got us this far.”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

Morgan glanced back down the steps into the dimly lit crew deck. “Flencer has jaded our party, no?”

“Perhaps.”

***

Morgan made his way into the hold, nodding at a few crewmen as he went by.

“What do ye want, lad?” A murky seaman grunted. He was sitting on a small stool beside the supply hold door.

“Some bread.”

The seaman picked his front teeth with a gutting knife. “Ask the porter, he’ll fetch some.”

“The porter sent me.”

“Ye what?”

“He sent me to fetch some bread, for the Paladins.”

“I ain’t sposed to open the door in case o’ pilferin’”

“We are about to land at Wills port, what exactly am I to pilfer? Crumbs?” Morgan shook his head and sighed, “Are you going to let me by or shall I tell Kaleb how you deny him a piece of bread with his meat.”

“Alright, lad. Bloody ‘ell fire.” He cranked the handle and pushed it open. “You’ll find it’s pretty bare.” He flashed a row of chipped, yellowed teeth.

The hold was poorly lit but enough to navigate amongst the crates and boxes. It smelt musty and rotten. The idea of eating food stored here turned Morgan's stomach. He lifted one of the box lids open to be greeted by emptiness.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Box after box was empty, littered with crumbs or had a lone root vegetable hiding in a corner. He wasn’t at all sure what he was supposed to be looking for. The Captain made it clear the stop was for resupply and the story checked out.

Morgan huffed, he was getting bored and decided to report back to Kaleb. He pushed a large crate to one side to check one last box before feeling the board beneath his feet give way slightly.

“You done in there lad?”

“Eh…still looking for bread.”

“Ain’t any probably, gerra move on!”

Morgan bounced on his tiptoes. “Trap door…” He knelt and searched in the darkness, finding a metal ring to pull on. It eased open. Without thinking he slipped down into the depths of the ship. He could hear the water around him through the sideboards more clearly now. A lantern swung from the central beam above his head and cast dancing shadows.

This lower hold was lined with shelves that stored boxes. He opened them up one after another. This time finding a wealth of food, water and wine skins.

Above his head, he heard footsteps. “Lad, where are ye?”

Morgan bit his lip and quickly shoved a box back into the shelf. “Eh, help!”

“Wha?”

“I have fallen in a hole!” Morgan scurried below the opening in the floor and lay down. “Hurt my ankle!”

The crewman's head appeared above him. “You clumsy, boy!”

“I’ve been shouting for you, you didn’t come!”

“I wouldn’t have ‘eard ye.”

“What is this place?”

“Eh…ammo storage.”

“I thought that was across deck,” Morgan smirked.

“Nay, we have a couple, plenty o’ things ta shoot.”

“Right then, I never found bread.”

“Course ye didn’t.” He grunted and reached down to help Morgan up.

Morgan played on his faked injury, “Oo, ow.”

“C’mon.”

He clambered out of the hole and made his way out of the supply hold.

“You heal quick.”

Morgan looked back, realising he had been walking normally.

“Half Elf thing…” he winked.

“Right…” He sat back down on his stool and slammed the hold shut. “Off ye go.”

Morgan dashed back to Kaleb’s room and knocked at it frantically.

The door swung open. “Alright, alright.”

Morgan pushed passed Kaleb and nodded for him to shut the door. “Stuffed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The store has food for months.”

“Keep your voice down, lad.”

Morgan went into a hushed whisper. “They have a hold below, food, wine, cheese…bread.”

Kaleb shook his head. “This is not safe.”

“What should we do?”

“Mutiny…perhaps.”

“Take the ship? I mean…we could, it’s not like they can do anything to you and Iridia…”

Kaleb looked down a moment. “True…but they could do something to you.”

“I’m ready to go down if need be, I understand the stakes.”

“I don’t think you do.” Kaleb closed his eyes, thinking of the demon holding on to the souls.

“Also…Flencer?”

“What about him?”

“Where is he?”

“Confined in his room.” Kaleb nodded.

Morgan breathed. “Are we sure of that?”

Kaleb’s eyes flashed and he took up the conduit blade. “Let’s go check.”

They exited the room and marched around the corner to Flencer's quarters. Like the food store, a crewman was posted outside.

“Ello, Mr Paladin, sir.”

“Open the door.”

“Eh?”

“Open the door, please, I’d like to speak to Flencer.”

“Captain said to keep it closed until landing.”

“Open the door.”

“But Captain–”

Kaleb gave him no final chance and shoved him so hard he broke the door open and landed on his back amongst the splintered wooden panels.

Morgan peered out from the side of Kaleb. The room was bare.

“Gone…where is Iridia?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t spoken to her.”

Kaleb turned and charged up the stairs onto the top deck. The rain was coming down harder and a storm brewed in the distance. Below the clouds, there was a landmass with obscure structures that leaned over and wavered in the wind.

“Almost there now, Paladin,” Wurtheim called.

“Where is Flencer, and Iridia?” Kaleb roared. He drew his blade and pointed it at the Captain.

Although at great distance Wurtheim still felt the need to half raise his hand. “Well, no need for this. I do not know where they are. The Dwarf is a tricky lad, probably escaped during the night. Iridia? Have you checked her quarters?”

“Why are we stopping here?”

The deck crew turned to look at Kaleb and Morgan.

“Supplies.”

“What supplies?”

“Food…” Wurtheim cocked his head and smiled.

“Found your food, Captain, you don’t need to stop, you can take us straight to the Foglands.”

“No can do.”

“I’m in charge here.”

“No, you’re not.” The captain lowered his hands and walked down the steps of the helm towards Kaleb. “Oh, there’s Iridia and your friend, Flencer.”

The two were marched out at gunpoint from behind Kaleb and Morgan.

Kaleb turned and pointed his blade towards the men. “I suggest you release them.”

“I suggest you lower that blade.”

“Not a chance.”

“I am happy to execute her.”

“Good luck.”

“Oh, you think she’ll heal? Not anymore. Your run is up.”

“What do you want, Wertheim?”

“The Dwarf.”

Flencer and Iridia were gagged. They stood with their hands up at gunpoint. Iridia knew to be careful now. A bullet was far more deadly. It reminded her of how she felt when entering the Wendigo's lair. An icy fragility enveloped her veins.

“Why?”

“Well, the Elf. He’s mine now.”

“Why not kill us?” Kaleb gritted his teeth, “If we are so easy to kill.”

“It’s not what the Demon wanted. He asked for you in person. What an honour.”

“I can just kill you all…” Kaleb waved his sword around. “It’d be easy.”

“You’re a tough lad, and I believe that Mr Paladin. But can you keep your friends alive while you do it? Hm?” Wurtheim folded his arms.

Kaleb looked at Iridia. She was nodding as if to unleash a beast. He looked at Morgan and the surrounding crew who had drawn their flintlocks. Slowly he lowered his sword.

India's eyes widened. She’d never seen Kaleb yield. She was as ready to die as Morgan.

“That’s what I thought. You’ve grown soft in your old age. Caring for your little crew.”

“What will you do?”

“Well. I shall take my Elf.” He clicked his fingers and pointed at Flencer. The crewmen holding him dragged him off. “As for you three, well I will deliver the package to the docks of the old port.”

“How long have you worked for the Demon?” Kaleb relaxed his chest.

“My relationship with clients is purely confidential, Mr Paladin.”

“You side with a creature that will bring this world into great darkness.”

Captain Wurtheim nodded. “That’s one way of putting it.” He smiled widely and chuckled. “I see it like this, I’m siding with the winner. It’s a far better bet than you four.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Said the man held captive.” Wurtheim walked back up to his wheel and laid a hand on it. “The only fool is you. You went against a force far too great, and you lost.”

The crew silently guided the ship towards the docks. Proximity brought clarity, and that clarity revealed a derelict and abandoned port. At least abandoned by humanity. Whatever resided here now was not of this world.

The ship eased between jagged rocks and came gracefully to a halt. “Well. It looks like this is goodbye.”

Kaleb looked at the old port and back to Wurheim. The crewmen busied themselves lowering the gangplank.

“Off you go, Mr Paladin. No funny business now.”

Kaleb fought the urge to lash out, his body shook and his jaw vibrated.

“Don’t be like that, Kaleb.” Wurtheim waggled his flintlock.

They marched off one by one. Fortunately, Kaleb managed to maintain his ownership of the conduit blade. Wurtheim hadn’t known of its significance.

“Aim!”

Kaleb, Iridia and Morgan turned quickly, faced with a firing line.

“Run!”

The party dived out of the way.

“Fire!”

Shot peppered the docks and sent grass and dirt into the air.

“Fire at will lads!” Called Wurtheim.

Morgan clambered to his feet and found himself in the centre of the line of fire. “Well…” he whispered and closed his eyes.

Iridia shoulder-barged Morgan and knocked him out of the way. Shots scattered across the way. Iridia and Morgan fell to the ground together.

Wurtheims ship was already pulling away from the docks when Kaleb pulled himself up from behind the boulder he had dived behind. A great looming shadow drowned Wurtheim in darkness. Kaleb’s mouth dropped as a steely terror rose from the depths. “By the divine.”