>
> Ol’ ‘Bald’ Burton,
>
> was a dangerous man to cross,
>
> For he won the all captains coin toss
>
> Ol’ ‘Bald’ Burton,
>
> Probably left yer moth’r for anoth’r,
>
> For he had ‘Trickster’ for a broth’r
>
> -
>
>
>
>
> Ballad of Bald Burton,
>
> Popular pirate song,
>
> Circa 199 NC
-
> A one-eyed dog called twelve met a schemin’ lame man
>
> Hailin’ from Far Cove, they formed their own clan
>
> Claimed he knew the road beyond Barbosa’s Reef
>
> Came out the Queen’s vault wit a heavy seaf
>
> Some things they left, others Trickster put on a shelve
>
> The old vampire’s gilded bones,
>
> Rusted jewelry ‘n colored stones
>
> He buried in a metal chest filled wit pieces o’ twelve
>
>
>
> -
>
> Dog called ‘Twelve’
>
> Old pirate song,
>
> Circa unknown (probably before 180 NC)
>
>
> *(While they originated in different continents, at different times and by different pirate factions, the two esoteric songs are believed to be referring to the same man.)
----------------------------------------
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Horace
The Shores of Rain-Minas
Part II
-Trickster-
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[https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihg3S-VPKKqNTX2-s-gobkMdcXp_S1HcUBbNuBdqPm8_kszTuXBZLJw05RYB745FruatFAXXp8Ca3tLk9izRH9w1Ed2_yVaRD_LWlZpvtVfC8KKNsfXSN19JvvCE4wh88acWzcNa46QcxHQ02x0X6Qemy3L1U3TxHcX2WFaXsj0S_FnNeNFwunEggrSBM/s1237/Shark%20Isles.jpg]
The ‘White Deceit’ was bound to send another boat soon.
Now if ‘Sneaky Zaine’ came with the second group they might have a chance. For Sneaky was a greedy man. ‘Old Nose’ Abrix, who’d gotten the moniker because he lacked one being as he was a Gish from the Sinking Isles, sighed pensively. Abrix was also pretty old but this fact and the fact he was a Gish the small-statured sailor had never admitted. Abrix was also the last soul still breathing that was with him on the ‘Mirabel’ afore the old lady had gone under at Scylla’s Corner.
Now the names of places and the maps were vague given that each captain named the old rocks how he preferred. It was also probable they were named differently afore but seeing as the brothers were folk of limited skill in reading old labels, it made sort of sense. So, Far Cove had maps of the Blasted Lands aplenty. Some were fancy, all good leather or vellum, with ‘precise’ instructions on how to navigate the reefs. Others not so much. The majority of those maps had one thing in common despite their many differences.
They are utter shite.
The best map Horace had ever found in his years playing the gentleman’s game was written on a piece of bloody shirt with a finger. He was certain about that map as Horace was the one who painted it.
Now the problem with making a map is you cram a lot of things in it, not to forget them. After a while the mind does forget though. It turns your younger self’s scribblings into incoherent hieroglyphs you can’t possibly decipher unless you get really drunk. The native landscape changing also not helping you remember any of it.
The latter might have been the rum’s fault.
It’s a vicious circle.
Spread the blame, Horace thought looking at the increasingly angrier ‘Parrot’ Law, the Captain of ‘White Deceit’. Another problem this. Absent a ship of your own, you have to rent one to do your business. Horace would have done it earlier, but the authorities had remembered him back in Fu De-Gar and threw him in the dungeons. Now their plan was to have him fight in the arena as fodder, which was as good as having him killed outright, but Horace didn’t hold it against the judge as it was his original sentence.
As a matter of fact, ‘Dusky’ Horace had a number of death rulings against him. If every one of those were to be served he should have to be killed several times and in many cities. The Khan had amended a couple of those at the start of the war but the judge was quick to realize ‘Dusky’ wasn’t his real moniker also and sent Horace to the arena for impersonating another ‘less dangerous’ pirate.
Or the judge had tried to.
Two days after they had him thrown in the dungeons and while Horace was munching on his fourth raw rat a gladiator came looking for recruits to serve in the Chiliad. While the men were initially skeptical to the man’s offer seeing as the name reminded them of a Lorian whorehouse, Horace accepted it without a second thought. They didn’t really wanted the lame pirate at first since absent socks they could see the maimed foot, but Horace managed to convince them he was capable of fighting with the best of the others.
So to prove it, they had him fight an indebted baker, a brawny kid from the slums and a lecherous thief. Horace bribed the thief with the promise of treasure and the thief helped Horace kill the other two. Then Horace knifed the thief in the final stages of the fight, since this was a match to the death and the judges had turned suspicious of their performance.
Long story cut short, they loaded them on an open carriage like salted sardines and departed on a long journey with many stops. In one of those stops Horace pretended he had the runs and slipped away.
Upon reaching Far Cove again he found Abrix serving with ‘Parrot’ Law’s crew of cutthroats and convinced them to allow him to join on the condition that Horace would give up the location of his treasure. While Horace was universally disliked by the brotherhood, it was also a known fact he had followed Barbosa in his youth and they had reached as far the old Imperial Capital.
This was the tale everyone knew.
While there was indeed an ‘expedition’ back in 164 to navigate the reefs in search for loot, few men or ships had survived it and it was nigh murky if they had reached the Capital or not. That is Horace didn’t know. How could you tell? They had found land of course and treasure aplenty. Most of it they brought back, a portion they buried as honest folk do, but the large group of loot-loaded ships had split up on the return and many had traveled back on foot even.
The reasons varying.
Since ‘Parrot’ Law had only the one ship, he didn’t want to risk it in the Fog Road beyond Barbosa’s Reef and Horace didn’t find it difficult to convince him he knew about another way. ‘Our journey’s end was near the shores of Rain-Minas’ he had told him back in Far Cove. ‘Part of the treasure is still there.’
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
“I’m with you Captain,” Abrix assured him, red-rimmed eyes darkened with coal, more dribbling down from his painted black hair. “We old heads should stick together. Family right?”
Horace nodded not really believing him.
‘Parrot’ Law, who’d gotten the moniker from a large green talking parrot he had on his shoulder, grimaced in frustration. The parrot had gotten old or sick and disappeared one day. So Law had gotten a new one of similar complexion from a merchant in Ani Ta-Ne but the new bird refused to say a word. It didn’t chirp or chuckle. The bird was either mute or dead. Since it sort of moved from time to time Law had given it the space to learn but years after he’d gotten it, the new parrot still hadn’t said a word.
“Fucking humidity,” Law cursed and walked about the ruined temple of sorts. “Anything Adam?” he asked ‘Ghost’ Adam who had returned with ‘Fishy’ Wyler and ‘Brick’ Reyson from the upper floor.
“Bird shit,” big Reyson, a half-Nord half-Lorian commended and Law cast a side stare at his covered in parrot shit left shoulder. “And this.”
He gave the pirate Captain a necklace. A good piece of jewelry, the chain made out of gold and two of the three blue stones still on it.
“Where?”
“Inside a broken drawer wit ivory knobs,” Wyler replied.
“Got them knobs?” Law queried.
“Aye Captain.”
Law turned to Horace. “Is this the plaguing treasure?” He asked.
“Well, it’s an expensive piece ye got there Law,” Horace replied.
“Are you shitting on me Horace?”
“That’s yer bird Law, so don’t be blaming me for that. I told you it looked like the place, but I ain’t sure.”
“You don’t know?”
“The place has changed.”
“Is it the place though?” Law queried narrowing his eyes. “This is the question.”
“Which one? Because ye asked like three in a row,” Horace retorted and eyed ‘Ghost’ Adam, the Issir, yet another half-breed. The hardened brother returned his stare. Now Adam hadn’t turned as dark-skinned as him for whatever reason and his dark-grey complexion had given him the moniker.
Probably.
“Well, ye have us stumbling through them ruins for a month now Horace,” Law started working on his grey-blond beard with his fingers. “It behooves me ye might be jerking our chains now. Are ye?”
“Half the outer edge of the city has collapsed Law,” Horace said and looked at Wyler playing with a long dagger on his waistband. “All this mud and debris tumbled down the ravines.”
“You say we need to shovel down the slopes?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I’m listening Horace.”
“You need certain markings to identify a place,” Horace explained glancing at Reyson but the moment the man standing by the door looked at him, Horace glanced the other way. “If those are moved, then it’s more difficult to do it.”
“Any markings left?”
The Lighthouse ruins.
“Not that I found as of yet.”
“So you got nothing.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Law breathed in once. Then stared at his leather boots for a moment. The parrot looked as well and then released a stream of watery bird poop down the captain’s sleeve. “Blow me down!” Law cursed with a grimace. “What did ye feed it Reyson?”
“I didn’t boss.”
The captain rolled his eyes exasperated.
“Horace ye got to give me something,” Law said next. “Else I can’t help you.”
Hmm.
“There’s a cave near the docks on the face of them cliffs,” Horace said.
“Right. We’ve been to the docks right Adam?”
“Several times captain,” Adam replied.
Law stared at Horace and then at Abrix. He smacked his lips once and then turned to Reyson. “Grab his arms ‘Brick’,” he ordered.
“Hey there. Hey!” Horace warned and eyed the big pirate approaching. “Let’s talk of this Law!”
“Sure. Help him out Wyler,” Law replied.
Horace stepped back and reached for his blade.
“It’s five of us ‘Trickster’,” Law said with a leer. “Ye ain’t getting out breathing.”
Horace frowned, the numbers not exactly matching in his own count. That is until he glanced sideways and saw Abrix pointing a straight short sword at him.
“Just give them the place Horace,” the treacherous Gish pleaded.
“You be the shortest ruffian I know Abrix,” Horace told him. He wasn’t really surprised but still it was disappointing.
“I serve with the ‘White Deceit’ now Horace,” Abrix said affronted and removed Horace’s sword with his free hand.
“He’s lying,” Horace warned Law. “He’ll betray you. Look at that stupid face!”
“Yeah, I trust the little guy more than you,” Law replied.
“He’s a bloomin’ Gish!”
“That’s a lie!” Abrix protested unconvincingly. “I’m just not that tall!”
“It don’t matter. We’re not bigoted people,” Law replied in a cultured manner, then added in a harsher tone. “Get the fucking hat Wyler.”
Horace grimaced. “I like that hat Wyler.”
“I promised Zaine he’ll get it,” Wyler retorted with a leer.
“Zaine is here?”
“Boat moored last night while ye were missing,” Wyler said and removed his hat. It was a nice brown leather hat this, with white pearls adorning the leather band around its crown.
Motherfucker.
“Now with that out of the way,” Law said and used a cloth to wipe some of the white sticky shit off of his sleeve. “Where’s the dog Horace?”
“What dog?” Horace asked and Reyson pulled his beefy arm back, clenched his calloused fingers into a fist and punched him in the gut on the return. Horace doubled over, the wind knocked out of him, made to grab Reyson’s dagger from his waist sneakily, but the pirate swung his arm again and sent Horace sprawling on the ancient tiles.
Reyson had loosened a tooth in Horace’s mouth and upon landing on the tiles it came off completely. It was a bad tooth he’d fixed in Lai Zel-Ka and it had cost him a gold Dinar. Literally. They had melted the coin to make the thin casing. Horace didn’t much care about the tooth, but he wanted that gold casing. So to save it, he just swallowed it.
“Pick him up,” Law ordered his crew. “Reyson, hit him again.”
“Wait…!” Horace mumbled, gulping down blood and pieces of dental works.
Thank thee vile Abrakas for the lubrication.
“The dog.”
“There was no dog,” Horace said pacifyingly and Reyson hit him again.
A good solid knuckle punch right at the jaw he sort of expected.
So Horace rolled his head with it and avoided the worst.
He sold it though like a motherfucker.
“Arggh! Curse ye!”
Alright the pain was real.
“Break his arm,” Law ordered in a hangman’s voice.
“Not the arm!” Horace implored like a port beggar.
“Fine, cut it off him,” Captain Law amended his orders.
“Halt… it all comes back to me!” Horace yelped and he didn’t have to act at all for this part.
“I’m listening,” Law said patiently still trying to get the bird droppings from his shoulder.
“I found… a stray mutt… in the city,” Horace gasped and then spat a bloody blotch down. “Might have been a dog or anything in between.”
“What’s in between?” Wyler asked a little confused.
“Give me the darn map Adam,” the pirate captain ordered brusquely.
“The map boss?”
“The fucking shirt he had hidden, it’s a blasted map!” Law snapped irate.
Horace glared at the guilty-looking Abrix. The Gish had the decency to look away.
“Abrakas shall judge ye Gish. Ye owe him plenty,” He reminded the frowning Abrix.
“No he bloody won’t,” Law retorted with a scoff but Abrix was ogling his eyes spooked.
“Take it back!” He screeched.
“You’re a dastardly thief and an undersized crook,” Horace spat, deaf to his pleas.
“We’re pirates Horace,” Law replied and read his tattered ‘map’. “It goes with the job.”
“Do I hit him again boss?” Reyson asked just to be sure. He’d missed part of their conversation.
“Not yet,” Law replied furrowing his brows. “There!” He finally said. “I knew I had seen it afore! The dog!”
Horace wiped the blood from his mouth and grimaced. “I can’t see shit Law. Might be a concussion.”
“Here, look at it!” The captain showed him the drawing. “That’s a dog leading to the treasure!”
Horace chuckled going another way. “This ain’t a dog. It looks like a turtle!”
“It says dog right underneath it.”
“That looks like ‘fog’ or ‘bog’ to me, it might be smeared over blood. It messed up the lettering.”
“Reyson,” Law growled not believing him.
“Wait, gods darnit!” Horace hissed and let a rugged breath out. “Fine. It might be a dog.”
“You were seen with,” Law elucidated.
“Not the same dog,” Horace assured him and stood back. “That dog is dead.”
“It looked alive to me,” Wyler intervened. “They went into the tall building next to that tower. But came out wit nothing.”
Snitches get stitches, Horace’s eyes reminded the pirate.
“Could he have hidden it on him?” Law asked. “Strip him Reyson.”
Horace raised his arms in protest but Adam got his cutlass out as well and Horace dropped them. “I can’t hide a treasure in my pants Law,” he told the pirate captain.
“You’ve hidden something though,” Law retorted and glanced at Wyler searching his coat’s pockets.
“Hmm,” Wyler murmured and got his dagger out.
“What?” Law asked curious.
“There’s something stitched in the padding.”
Take a whale’s cock up the nose.
“Hey, don’t cut me coat up ye lecherous felon!” Horace protested while Wyler used the dagger to tear at the fabric.
“Shut it Horace!” Law barked. “Not a word!”
“It’s a key captain,” Wyler said and got it out. “A fancy one.”
“Let me see it,” Law grunted and took the key from him. “It’s bronze. Nay, steel more like.”
“Not exactly valuable boss,” Adam noted.
“What does it open?” Law asked Horace who frowned in surprise. “You can speak!”
“I honestly didn’t know it was there. I’ve stolen it in Fu De-Gar.”
“Reyson,” Law growled and Reyson caught Horace above the right ear with a punch breaking the skin. Horace went down with a groan and Reyson gave him a good kick at the ribs before helping him to his feet again.
“What. Does. It. Open,” Law asked pausing at each word for emphasis.
A groaning Horace blinked once and shook his ringing head.
“A door,” he lied and Reyson floored him again.
Reyson stooped and picked him up by the collar of his shirt, the fabric tearing a bit.
Law showed him the drawing of a chest on the map.
“Fine. It’s possible,” Horace said with difficulty.
“Where is the chest?”
“We couldn’t bring it here. It’s back at Elauthin.”
“Abrix?” Law asked.
Horace glared at the flushed Gish.
“He’s a dead man walking,” Law assured him. “You don’t have to fear him.”
Abrix licked his lips unsure, hands shaking.
“Whatever,” Law decided. “He has told us already. You’ve carried a chest back. Brought it to shore with ‘Knife’ Mack’s crew and came back after three months just as Mirabel had finished its repairs. Where did you go?”
“Say I reached here or went up the Goat’s Leg,” Horace said touching the cut below his ear. “What makes you think I didn’t bring the loot back with me?”
“You came back alone. Missing a horse and five men.”
And the dog.
Where had the dog disappeared to?
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“Now we’re here on the other side, in Rain-Minas,” Law continued. “You wouldn’t have come here unless the treasure is near.”
I told ye that.
“It’s been decades Law,” Horace said.
“Where’s the chest Horace?”
“In a cave.”
“Reyson—”
“Wait!” Horace cut him off. “At first light of dawn, you draw a line east from the center of the docks,” he started.
“The docks.”
“The Fishing Docks. You follow the beach north, behind the forest to reach them. You might need to bring the boat there directly,” Horace explained. “Then walk east until you reach the gulley and follow it up the slopes towards the plateau. You’ll find the caves on the south walls facing the city.”
“Which gulley? There are many.”
“It might be a ravine now. Packed with bushes?”
“Ant’s bollock on a beach! Do you know where it is?”
Horace spat down and crunched his jaw right and left. He moved his legs next, the missing part on his left tingling. The boot there fake at the bottom and shorter than the right, his sock filled with wool. Horace couldn’t run but he could move if needed fast.
But it wasn’t needed right now.
“I do,” he replied and stared at the scared Gish with pitiless eyes. “I’ll take ye there.”
“Hmm,” Law murmured and stared at the map. “What does the rest of the map show?”
“Another city,” Horace lied still looking at the panicked Gish.
But Abrix had kept his mouth shut that time.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
It took them three hours to find the crack leading up the slopes. It wasn’t easy navigating the chestnut forest and the ravine had turned into a small canyon, but Horace remembered the color of the granite walls further up amidst all the greenery. Upon reaching the first of the caves, he pointed them to the big one. Seeing as it was late and they were losing the light, ‘Parrot’ Law decided to wait for morning to explore further inside and sent ‘Ghost’ Adam back to the boat.
He was to inform Zaine and the others on their position and bring the boat to the fishermen’s docks. Adam left and came back a couple of hours later or four, the time passing quickly as they were busy making torches for the other day. The cave was oval-shaped at the entrance, standing over four meters tall and three wide, but it widened even more once you entered. Two hundred meters after that it widened even more.
There was an underground structure in the cave reaching all the way to the city. Horace had made a map of it but he didn’t need the map to find the chest. He hadn’t hidden it that far inside as it was a heavy son of a goat to carry alone and on a bad foot. This part Horace didn’t reveal to the pirates. Come morning an excited Law asked his men to tie him up and leave behind. He’d walked a bit in the night and found the build part of the cave. The ground turning into a fine marble tile road.
----------------------------------------
“I got yer map,” Law explained, gold bridge in his mouth gleaming in the light of the torches. The sun coming in from the entrance of the cave not enough to fully illuminate the place.
“I should come with,” Horace insisted.
“Nah, ye got something planned in there ‘Trickster’,” Law decided.
“You’re going to leave me tied inside the cave like this?” Horace protested.
“Look at the entrance plenty o’ light coming in.”
“Captain we need to take him along,” Abrix advised increasingly worried. The Gish hadn’t slept all night. Horace had for a couple of hours but kept an eye open.
“Shut up Abrix!” Law snapped. “Someone should stay to keep an eye on him.”
“Leave the Gish,” Horace offered and Abrix recoiled in panic.
“Hah, nice try. Reyson… nah, you and Adam with me. Abrix as well. Wyler you stay back. Yer smarter than them.”
“Captain,” Abrix protested. “He has a plan!”
“Blimey Abrix! What’s the matter wit you?” Law barked. “Grab a couple of torches!”
The Gish threw his small arms up and walked away with a last nervous look towards Horace who gave him a wink with his left eye.
Ten minutes later their lights and voices were lost inside the vast cave.
“How big is this place?” Wyler asked using his dagger to cut small pieces out of a dry pork sausage and then munch on them slowly. He was sitting across from Horace on a similar rock. A bag with torches and supplies next to him, Horace’s sword in another bag next to it. Probably his dagger too.
“Plenty big.”
“Like what, a mausoleum?”
“You mean catacombs,” Horace corrected him. “But no, more like a natural cave they turned into a fancy warehouse. This port had a lot of visitors back in the day.”
“They?”
“The Imperials.”
Wyler nodded. A Lorian with a bit of Cofol in him as everyone else almost in these parts. Black hair and a tad slanted eyes. A thin but long beard down his chin. Horace made him to be around thirty, which was twenty years almost younger than him.
A lot of years.
Then again Wyler had grown up with stories about the deeds of Horace’s generation. Before the Khan had pardoned ‘almost’ everyone and ‘civilization’ came to Far Cove. They even had a market these days. A normal market right next to the ‘old’ one. Horace grimaced and stared at the rock five meters away from their camp. It was touching the wall of the cave. Around a meter in height and mostly round. It still had gravel packed at its base not to roll away from the wall and leave the dug hole open.
Not a big hole. Just enough to slot a chest inside.
Wyler followed his stare to see where Horace was looking, but the older pirate averted his eyes.
“Ever seen one? An Imperial?” Wyler asked with a grimace and swallowed what was effectively a piece of salted pork down.
Spiced a bit, fine.
“Zilan was the word. I haven’t really.”
Not a living one.
“Right.”
“That jewelry the Captain took worth a pretty penny back on the Peninsula.”
“Uhm. What about yer chest?”
Ah. Finally.
Horace wiggled his tied up hands a bit. The rough ship rope was cutting his circulation and had turned them numb.
“Ye ain’t loosenin’ that knot Horace,” Wyler warned him. “Not a chance.”
“You know,” Horace said with pained smile. He’d a bleeding hole in his mouth and that tooth was bound to come out at some point. Horace planned to lube the exit afore that happened. Better a finger up the anus than a tear. “Whoever finds the treasure should get to keep it right?”
“Nice try. How much is in there?”
“Many silver coins. Imperial.”
“Yeah, I know them. I have one.”
“Uncarved. You know they make three Silver Skulls from one, right?”
Wyler stood back. “I didn’t know that.”
“Big motherfuckers, aye. Square. They come in gold too.”
“Gold ye say?”
“Uhm.”
“What else ye got in there?”
“Silver mostly. Gold. But not coins.”
“You don’t say,” Wyler smacked his lips. “What else?”
“Magic stones.”
“Hah-ha. Fuck off Horace. What do they do?”
“They make light or fire,” Horace replied.
“Yeah, I don’t believe that,” Wyler replied and shoved the rest of the sausage in his mouth. “What about the gold?”
“Trinkets,” Horace replied trying to listen for any strange sounds. “But the silver coins could set you up for life.”
“Is that so?”
“Uhm. Then again, if you split ‘em up with Law and the others,” Horace sighed pensively at that. “I was once in yer position you know. Had to make the same difficult decision. Every broth’r really. Such is the business, aye.”
Wyler narrowed his eyes. “Law is going to find the chest first.”
“Not where he’s going.”
“You lied?”
Is yer mother a virgin?
“Never said the chest was deep inside the structure,” Horace replied instead. “I said it’s in the cave.”
Wyler looked around them. The cave silent but for water dribbling from the moisture gathered at the ceiling.
“You have a bit of time in yer hands,” Horace continued evenly. “Of course there’s ‘Sneaky’ Zaine and the others to convince.”
“Convince?”
“You could cut him in.”
Wyler licked his lips. “How’s that different?”
“You’ll know where the loot is and how much of it. Keep it vague is me advice.”
“What about the Captain?”
“He who has the boat can write this story,” Horace said.
“Yeah,” Wyler hissed. “Nice talk Horace, but I don’t trust your stories.”
“Check my coat,” Horace told him. “Around the collar, under the filling.”
“What’s there?” Wyler asked and reached for his ruined coat.
“A coin.”
“Like that on yer neck? I have one too. Every brother has.”
“A piece of twelve,” Horace replied with a smirk. “The real deal.”
Wyler cut the collar open and dug inside with his dagger. The coin gleamed catching the morning light.
“Shit,” the pirate said and gave it a good bite. “That’s like a medal.”
“They loved big things them Imperials,” Horace agreed. “Behind that rock there’s a chest full of it. You could share all that with Law or do the smart thing and take it for yerself.”
Wyler stared at the rock unsure. Then got up, walked there and started pushing it away. He worked at it for a while, Horace’s nervous eyes on the darkness for any returning lights. He thought he heard a dog’s bark and turned about surprised.
But saw nothing.
“Abrakas toes!” Wyler guffawed after he managed to shove aside the rock revealing the dark hole and part of the metal box. “Shiver me timbers! It’s heavy!”
Yeah.
“You need another person to help you carry it,” Horace offered.
“Hah. You think I’m a fool?”
Nah, just greedy as fuck.
Same thing.
“Well, you better put the rock back then, else Law will find it.”
Wyler grimaced and went to test the lock.
“I don’t have the key.”
“You don’t need it. Use my pendant.”
Wyler got up with a frown. “Your pendant?”
“The Silver Skull one. You’ve seen it.”
The pirate approached him. “It opens the lock?”
“Has the key pressed at the back of it and you can pry it off the silver easy.”
“What about the other key?” Wyler asked.
Horace shrugged his shoulders. “I made a copy?”
“Why would…?” Wyler sighed. “What’s the plan ‘Trickster’?”
“You get the loot and maybe let me go?” Horace offered.
Wyler nodded. “Sure.”
He wasn’t going to let Horace go, but Horace wasn’t going to let him get the loot also.
“Just hurry up afore they get back,” Horace urged him and heard that dog barking again.
“Is that the dog?” Wyler asked hesitating.
Abrakas cock boiled wit lard.
“There was no dog,” Horace grunted. “It’s not important anyway.”
Wyler reached for his collar bending at the waist and half-kneeling but paused.
“I saw it yesterday Horace,” Wyler said. “Then there’s the song right?”
> A one-eyed dog called twelve met a schemin’ lame man
>
> Hailin’ from Far Cove, they formed their own clan
>
>
“It’s a pack of lies,” Horace hissed desperately sweating as he only had this one chance at this. He needed Wyler to come closer afore they found the bodies and got back. “It’s been almost thirty years Allgods darnit! What you saw wasn’t the same dog!”
Wyler narrowed his eyes but then nodded as it made sense and reaching grabbed Horace’s silver pendant by the chain. He pulled to get it out stooping lower, Horace tossed his neck back and a one-eyed dog walked inside the cave.
A square silver coin hanging from its neck tied to a leather collar gleaming.
The dog let out a low-guttural growl at the frozen seeing it Wyler and Horace head-butted him brutally at the tip of his nose.
Pulverizing that motherfucker.
Almost cracked his own head open. Wyler gasped, his nose splattered on his bloody face and stumbled back afore dropping with a muffled groan to the ground. Horace sprang up, his head hurting and the cave a blur, faltered on his feet and then limped quickly towards the slow to respond pirate.
The dog started barking and Horace stopped breathing heavy to glare at it.
“Shut up Twelve! Blasted sound carries!”
With a groan Horace reached inside his bag for the sword but found the dagger instead. Wyler came about and Horace had to turn, put his elbow on him. The pirate fought back, Horace trying to cut through his tied up hands as fast as he could while keeping him down.
“GAAAH!” Wyler groaned trying to escape suffocation. Horace was pressing his elbow on the dip of the pirate’s neck but the position wasn’t helping him much. Being tied up adding to the problem.
You’d think that bastard would have been easier to kill given I’m the fucking victim in this plaguing malarkey!
The dog barked again, twice in quick succession and this time someone was heard answering from outside. A strange voice… no, a strange language. More a song that carried inside the cave and made his spine tingle.
“Aaarggh! Ye… piece of… broke me nose!” Wyler grumbled and punched him in the right kidneys. Once, twice. Thrice. Each blow harder. Ah, them young muscles. Horace had almost freed himself, but then he got kneed in the other kidney as Wyler swung around and shoved him away. Horace rolled on the ground losing control of the blasted dagger and cursed Abrakas just as loud as bloody Wyler that slowly stood up irate in the meantime.
“Curse… yer lineage Trickster,” Wyler mumbled in pain and unsheathed his sword. The blade of the cutlass shining, a nasty sight.
The figure standing at the entrance of the cave the exact opposite of that. A sweaty, blurry-eyed Horace blinked seeing the light coming through the tall female’s tunic. Allfather’s miracles, he thought seeing the illuminated figure approaching with graceful strides.
A tall neck, long wet hair curling at the edges and an alien blue color. Elongated ears sprouting out of her head and silvery-green eyes glowing like jewels on a deific face. She was so beautiful it was terrifying to look at her. Her voice an incoherent song, until it wasn’t.
“You’re injured,” the female said in fluent Common.
“What… the fuck said that?” Wyler gasped twisting about alarmed. “Hells ye came from?”
“Eh,” she inhaled sharply and looked at the crawling towards the bag with his sword Horace. “Is this your friend?”
The dog barked once.
Wyler wiped the blood from his face with a muffled groan, his nose a swollen mess. “Where did you… come from lass?” He grunted hoarsely.
“The beach,” she replied politely. “Where did you come from injured man?”
Wyler spat down. “Got any weapons on you?”
“A dagger. Why?”
The dog growled at him.
“Give it here. What’s wrong with the fucking dog Horace?” Wyler grunted.
Wish I knew for sure, Horace thought reaching for the bag. Better not be what I think it is.
“Let me look at your wound,” the female urged Wyler. “I can be of help.”
That’s a Zilan for sure, Horace thought trying to get his sword out of the bag. Wyler is going to get rid of her, unless she can do something wizardry.
“Give me that dagger first. Aye, it’s a fancy one I see,” Wyler insisted measuring the distance as she approached. The moment she comes within reach of his blade Wyler will cut her down, Horace thought, working his bindings on the blade of his sword as fast as he could.
The Zilan made it there, a half-naughty smile on her face and Wyler swung his cutlass without warning. That is he tried.
She had put a hand on his wrist stopping him.
“What?” Wyler gasped in shock.
“Why?” She asked and shoved him backwards. Wyler stumbled back, but managed to find his footing. He shook his head with a snarl, bloody face turning right mean and marched on her again, but Twelve rushed him afore he could reach her.
The dog snapped its jaws around his ankle and almost brought him down. Wyler turned and hacked down with his cutlass but missed, connecting with the second blow.
“Quick!” Horace grunted at the shocked at the violence Zilan. “Toss that dagger lass!”
“Fucking… dog!” Wyler cursed hacking maniacally at Twelve that jumped and snatched his sword arm at the forearm. “SHITE!”
The Zilan approached him slowly, which was nice to see, but made Horace extremely anxious. She knelt near him, her dagger in hand and started cutting at his bindings. Horace could see the blue between her thighs when that short wet tunic split up at the hip.
Sweet wench be servin’ rum in yer room, Horace prayed his nostrils expanding at the female scent.
“I had gone swimming,” she explained with a bit of a blush, her accent in Common strange, but not unpleasant and she probably spoke it better than him. “But saw your dog at the beach calling and I followed it. Forgot most of my clothes on a tree. I have a bag I carry.”
“I see,” Horace croaked, one eye at the struggle between Twelve and Wyler, the other at the goods on display.
The upper deck view equally impressive as that of the keel.
“I know,” she replied and stopped. “I need to help your friend. You’re free,” she added and got up nimbly, the longest pair of legs Horace had ever appreciated in his life. Other than a Giraffe at the circus that is.
She had left him the dagger.
Horace took it and got up, his hands at last freed. Twelve returned covered in wounds, but he left Wyler collapsed near the wall of the cave and bleeding out from his torn right arm.
“Let me,” she told the dog but it backed away. “What?” She probed following it. “It won’t hurt.”
A nervous Horace glanced at the slow moving Wyler and limped that way quickly.
“Stupid dog… lying son of a—”
Horace had stabbed him in the right eye. The blade piercing through to the brain stopping Wyler from finishing his thought. Horace moved the sharp dagger about to widen the wound and cause more damage just in case, not minding the spillage. Satisfied he’d killed Wyler proper, Horace turned around and went to his chest intending to hide it again.
The Zilan’s voice stopping him.
“Your dog might not make it.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Why did you kill him?” She asked next.
Horace smacked his lips and turned around.
“He was a bad man good lass.”
“I’m a female. A Zilan silly,” she corrected him. “But you know it. So I’ll accept the endearment.”
“Are there any more of you?”
Her big eyes could see through to his soul it seemed.
He grimaced.
“I have friends around,” she said softly.
Hmm.
“I don’t. This is my chest.”
“No it isn’t,” she corrected him. “That’s a mage’s box. What do you have inside?”
“Coins.”
“Can I see?”
“Better that you didn’t,” Horace cautioned her. “There were other stuff at the bottom. I poured the coins in, thought nothing of it at the time.”
The Zilan watched him talk carefully. Horace paused in shock.
Why the fuck are ye talking to her dude? Knife her now that you have the chance!
But he couldn’t do it.
The female smiled broadly. At least four large fangs in her mouth, big as a dog's but sharper.
Two on each side.
Abrakas black eye!
“I’m Darunia,” she told him in her singing voice. “It is custom to greet one and reveal your name.”
“Eh. I’m Horace,” he murmured and stared at the dagger in his hand.
“Repeat after me,” Darunia told him and she spoke her strange language again.
“Why?”
“My friends are intense people.”
“Anyone important?” Horace croaked not believing he was chatting up with her.
“Lord Suraer’s daughter,” Darunia said and stooping closer she whispered near his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “And the 2nd Hoplite of the Phalanx. But I’m friendly with the rest of his soldiers as well, so you better behave.”
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Horace cracked the chest open and gasped at the sight of the silver coins. As a matter of fact he almost got moved to tears. He’d missed them so much. Never thought he’d have the chance of getting them back after all those years.
An excited Horace paused in alarm and listened for any strange noises.
“What do you fear?” Darunia asked him and looked inside the chest. “Ah, I know. It’s bad luck to take the dead’s treasure.”
“The living rarely give it up Darunia.”
It ain’t it lass.
She turned to stare in his eyes with a smile. Then she slotted her arm inside the chest and dug around the piles of coins. “Ah,” Darunia said and brought a polished white stone up. She chuckled. “This isn’t valuable.”
“It’s a magic stone.”
“Do you know how it works?”
“You touch it and it makes light.”
“Hmm. Not for long if it stays in this dark,” Darunia replied and rubbed at the stone with those long fingers. She was taller than Horace. The Zilan chuckled when the stone flashed and shone its light inside the cave, revealing more of the ceiling and the walls. “There. Now let’s see what else is in there,” she added but Horace stopped her.
“Better that you don’t.”
Darunia shushed him and reached inside to rifle about the chest. She got another stone out, a fierce orange one this time. Then a piece of marble. Thin like a stick. An ulna bone belonging to an arm. Longer and thinner perhaps, with little gold-reddish dots inside the white.
“Hmm,” Darunia said and looked at him.
Horace tried to listen for sounds but he heard nothing. He gulped down nervously.
“Where did you find the chest?” She asked him looking at the bone.
“In Elauthin,” Horace replied. He wanted to lie but couldn’t. It was frustrating.
“That’s a mage’s box.”
“It was inside a black marble building. Like the pyramids at Eikenport. It had a tower at its top but it had collapsed partially.”
“A black marble tower?”
“Nah, out of some red rock.”
“There was no such building in Elauthin silly,” Darunia said and furrowed her brows. “Um, are you sure you didn’t find it in Nureria?”
“We found land. Huge place with forests, lakes,” Horace insisted.
“This is a bone dipped in chemicals,” Darunia replied with a sigh. “To be preserved or for some other reason. An Alchemist’s job or a scientist’s. You landed in Nureria. This belongs back to Elas Study.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. We have to ask an Elderblood,” she paused thoughtfully. “Another one that is,” Darunia added a little embarrassed.
“Is it dangerous?” He asked casually.
“Why would it be?”
“Can I take the coins?” Horace asked.
“You shouldn’t.”
“Can I take some of the coins?”
“Ehm,” Darunia puffed her cheeks out. “I don’t really care. The bone is brittle,” she added.
Horace was busy looking for a bag to fill with his silver. He found the one that had his sword in and started filling it up as fast as he could.
“Could it be the silver? You poured it inside you said,” Darunia continued thinking about the bone. “I need to refresh my lessons there. I’m a healer. What is your profession Mister Horace?”
Horace paused mid-shoveling coins in the leather bag and smiled, then closed his mouth remembering the missing tooth. Tried to find something to say but couldn’t bring himself to lie to her.
Why?
“Apologies,” Darunia said and touched his hand. “You looked untrustworthy and I wanted to make sure you will tell me the truth.”
“Alright,” Horace nodded not certain what she meant.
“You are free,” she explained and released his hand.
Horace felt his mind clearing. He stared at his bag, then remembered Law and the others.
“I’m an explorer,” he told her. “We need to get out of here.”
“Why?”
“There are pirates inside the cave.”
“Oh. Good pirates?”
What?
“Eh, I reckon there are… well, not them. Better not to chance it is my meaning,” Horace glanced at the inside of the cave anxiously. It has been too long, he thought. He stooped and grabbed the bag, stared at the chest and then the rock.
“We better move this back,” he added and stopped realizing Darunia wasn’t there. Horace looked about, but the lightstone had gone out while they were talking and the pirate couldn’t see too far inside the cave.
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Horace looked for the dog next but didn’t find it. So he hid the chest in the hole again and rolled the rock back in place but the Zilan didn’t return in the time it took him. With time running out, Horace opted to leave while he still could and put some distance between him and Law’s crew.
He decided to head for the boat waiting at the fishing docks. Horace carefully hid the bag with the silver coins near a tree and made a pile of rocks to mark it. Kept some with him to show to Zaine who had the eye for it and worked on a tale to get him to follow Horace away from the others.
Horace wanted to convince Zaine first and then they could work on the others. He had to do it fast and be convincing, so they could get the boat back to the ship. Once there, Horace would have the time to make up a better tale about what happened.
Even talk them into sailing around Goat’s Leg and into the reefs, for a safer journey. Ayup, a journey back to Nureria. That’s a good detail to add and boost yer credibility. No fucking whispering bones and moving shades. Yer not a kid to fear your shadow Horace!
The dog he couldn’t explain.
I mean, dogs live quite long right?
Nothing to do with whatever… plus the lass was an expert on the matter.
He almost fell on Zaine’s men inside the forest. They were patrolling about looking for Law and the others. Horace hid until they were away and followed after them dagger in hand.
You don’t really need them all, Horace thought. Two people can steer a boat. Hells, a single person could do it in a pinch, aye.
When he got out of the trees instead of Zaine and his crew, Horace came face to face with a wiry, long-eared bow-armed Zilan looting their corpses. Behind that danger stood another long-eared comely Zilan female but of a fit much soberer character and next to her a tall bulky brute of a soldier in full Hoplite armour.
For crying out loud!
Whether he was a Zilan also or not, it made little difference to Horace.
You find this dude in the arena sands waiting for you, better roll up and die.
You find him outside, ye better run.
Since Horace wasn’t that great of a runner he raised his arm and rehashed Darunia’s words, praying the lass wasn’t pulling his leg and he remembered them correctly.
“Ana… e Iliwe… Sulwao,” Horace greeted the armed murdering strangers.
You don’t tell dis kind of crowd to go fuck themselves in their own language, Horace thought and smiled broadly to better sell it. Nine times out of ten yer getting the bulk of the fucking.
The unpleasant variant.
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read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
& https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/47919/lure-o-war-the-old-realms
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& https://www.scribblehub.com/series/547709/the-old-realms/
The chapters are re-edited and re-posted regularly at both places