Oron Thall was a large man, having grown fat off the fish and wealth his guild had brought him. He struggled to walk up and down the stairs each day to his office at the top of the fisher guildspire and so had built living quarters for himself up there. Then he could imagine himself the lord of a castle, a member of the nobility he’d so long envied. That was the way the guildmasters had believed the world was going. They saw no need for lords and hereditary titles, soon, they thought, the world would be run by merchants.
Sadly that hadn’t happened. Instead when the capital of the Hallowed Realm had been destroyed first by disease and then by the wrath of the stars themselves the world had fallen to criminals. There’d been riots and looting all throughout Nargathrum, where he lived, and almost all of his material wealth had been stolen. The Royal Bank in the city had been completely destroyed by some fellow Salara who had taken all the money in it to the Undercity and killed all the bankers. Royal reinforcements from the capital were unlikely to arrive anytime soon since there was no capital and no royalty. So Oron had barricaded himself in his tower with his most trusted employees and they were slowly waiting out the days eating what fish they’d had. Fish that was starting to go off.
They might have been able to escape. Many people still walked about in the city unaccosted as long as they paid tribute to one of the various gangs in the Undercity. But not Oron. In his time as a guildmaster he had gathered enormous amounts of wealth and power at the detriment of most of the ordinary people of Nargathrum. He’d always depended on said wealth and power to protect him from their wrath. But now all his wealth and power was gone, and the wrath of the ordinary people was most definitely still there.
But he had a plan. It wasn’t a very good plan. It was a plan based on rumours and superstitions. But recently he’d started to put more stock into those. Once, he would have thought of a storm sorceress living underneath the waves as most likely a myth told by sailors. Something they could tell themselves so that they’d know something was in control of the storms that plagued them. But now that sorceresses were fighting in wars and calling storms down upon armies that didn’t seem so far fetched.
The second problem with myths and superstitions was that they weren’t profitable. So what if there was a storm sorceress at the bottom of the ocean? He couldn’t talk to her. What could he do to convince her to help him? That was the same with most superstitions. Even if they were true there was no way to interact with them reliably.
But when the crown had come to him for help fighting a phoenix, a monster of Hellfire and Ruin, and he’d sent them Eren the pearl diver. He’d realised that these monsters and superstitions could be managed by ordinary people. So he’d started to look into Bara, the sea sorceress.
At first he hadn’t found very much. Mainly things he already knew, things everyone knew. That there was supposedly a sorceress, at the bottom of the sea, controlling storms. That wasn’t very helpful. What did this sorceress want? Who was she really? Had anyone ever actually met or seen her?
Then he’d heard about the Storm Wolf. He’d actually known about the Storm Wolf for a long time, but it had been a while before he’d put two and two together. Most people attributed his ridiculous success at sailing through storms to pure luck but what if it was related? So Oron had done some research on the mysterious Mangon Tull.
He’d spoken with pirates and sailors alike as well as sending out his many informants to learn all they could. There were stories about Mangon Tull, plenty of them. There were stories about his savagery and his cunning and there were about a hundred stories of him escaping pursuit by sailing right into a deadly storm only to sail right out again. There was one story though, that most people seemed to overlook. The story of how Mangon Tull killed his own brother.
To most people it was just another story of his savagery and evil but Oron hadn’t been so sure. He’d heard the story from Ullen Sarsk, a Nosk sailor who’d known both of the Tull brothers as boys. He claimed that Sengrid, the younger brother, had fallen in love with a mysterious hermit woman who lived in some hidden cave. Mangon had apparently been jealous and the two brothers had fought.
Most versions of the story said that Mangon killed Sengrid there but Sarsk’s version was different. He said that Mangon instead captured Sengrid and tried to use his life to blackmail the woman into being with him instead. The woman had apparently then flung herself into the sea to die and Ullen concluded that since no one had ever seen Sengrid again Mangon must have killed him.
But Oron wasn’t so sure. Mangon had sailed through storms no ship could have possibly survived. But of course, if he had Bara the sea sorceress’s long lost love strung up somewhere on his ship, she wouldn’t dare let any of the storms crush it. Then he’d probably also have some sort of plan for if she tried to get Sengrid back. Killing him seemed logical.
These string of myths and superstitions likely weren’t going to pay off in any significant way but Oron figured that there was no harm in checking. Because the Raggarusk, Mangon’s ship, had just pulled up in his port. If there really was someone on there that the all powerful sea sorceress cared about deeply that would make an excellent bargaining chip in getting him out of this ruined city. And if there wasn’t, well, acquiring a so far undamaged pirate ship famed for escaping any pursuit also couldn’t hurt.
So when some of his informants from outside the tower saw the distinctive ship arriving they got word to him immediately. They sent an arrow with an encoded message tied to it slamming into the wall of his tower. He plucked it out, read the message and gathered his allies together to make their escape.
They wrapped themselves in cloaks and cowls to hide their identities and made it all of two steps before they were surrounded by armed thugs who’d apparently been waiting by the secret entrance this whole time for him to emerge. They must really hate him.
Luckily most of the thugs were asleep or drunk or both and his two remaining guards made short work of them. He supposed they hadn’t really been prepared to wait out for quite that long. Unfortunately one of them escaped off into the night, probably to get more, so there was no time to lose. They headed to the wharf.
Fey Rammon had been a pirate for a very long time. He’d served under various different captains and sailed various different seas. He’d met Mangon in a game of cards and had proceeded to win almost too easily. It had astounded him that someone so phenomenally unlucky could be a feared pirate captain and that had intrigued him. So he’d followed him away from the card table and talked with him at the bar until eventually he’d been brought into the fold.
His years under Mangon had been unlike any years under any other captain. Mangon was bold, so incredibly bold. Yet he always seemed to get away with everything. There was, of course, the storm thing. Sailing through those storms was still just as terrifying as when he’d first done it despite how many they managed to survive. They all knew Mangon had something in the hold, something that kept them afloat in those storms. Fey had been curious but one thing he’d learned on the seas was that it was best to trust your captain. Especially a captain as successful as the Storm Wolf. So he’d stayed away from the brig and let secrets stay secret.
And what a success it had been? They were known and feared all across the ocean. Mangon could afford to be brash and spiteful to those he worked with like he’d been tonight because there was no one else like him. They could sail into a port like this and sit themselves brazenly on the wharf with just him and Drengen to guard the ship. No one touched the Storm Wolf, no one dared. Fey stared out into the night confident in his own security. This meant he was extra surprised when an arrow went through his skull.
Drengen hit the deck in shock as another arrow sailed over his head, taking with it his characteristic, enormous hat. He loved that hat. He drew his sabre and crawled to the rail, peering over it into the night, ready to leap down as soon as any more arrows came his way. He tried to avoid looking at Fey’s dead corpse lying next to him. They’d known each other for years.
On the wharf was a big fat man in a too small cloak as well as two other men, rapidly reloading bows, and some other people skulking in the background. The fat man seemed to be giving orders to the other two while ringing his hands with nervousness.
Who the fuck were these people? He’d thought the criminals in this city would look tougher than that. Lacking anything better to do he yelled at them in his booming authoritative voice and ducked back behind the rail.
“Who the fuck are you people?” he asked, cutting straight to the point. “Are you stupid enough to think you can take the ship of the Storm Wolf?”
“We know there’s not many of you there,” one of them replied. “We saw you all leave.”
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“Er...” Drengen thought. “That may be but there are many more of us here belowdecks. I’d suggest you get away now before they come up.” He put his sabre down and reached for Fey’s bow. Fey had already strung it when they’d been put on guard duty, bless him.
“I think we’ll take our chances,” the voice replied, Drengen was reasonably sure it belonged to the fat nervous man. What a twist of fate, being killed by someone so incompetent. He supposed that the luck of the Storm Wolf had to run out sometime.
There were footfalls on the wharf as they moved toward the ship and Drengen cursed under his breath. He started to knock an arrow with clumsy fingers, it had been so long since he’d had to do this. As he was fumbling with the bow he felt water splashing onto his hands. Rainwater. Well that was just typical.
He felt the boat shift as the people on the wharf started climbing onto it and he leapt up to shoot at them. There was one of the archers, no longer holding his bow, clambering up right below him. The shot was impossible to miss at that range. Even with his years of neglect. Even using Fey’s unnecessarily large bow with its stupidly big draw weight. Even with the dribbling of rain that was slowly turning into a torrent.
But he missed anyway. Because the climber was struck by a huge bolt of lightning. Drengen went blind from the light and staggered back, the bow and the arrow going who knows where. The whole boat rocked from the impact and his back crashed into something. It could have been the rail, it could have been the deck, it could have been a jagged spear that impaled him and killed him instantly. He couldn’t tell, he was far too disorientated for that.
Somewhere, somehow, there was another explosion of light and sound and screams from the deck. He felt heat on his face and raised himself up to look at it. He was still alive which was unfortunate and he could even see. He’d had one eye closed for the bow shot and so it hadn’t gone blind and through it he saw that the ship was on fire. That was probably not good, it was hard to tell. The fat man ran past him ringing his hands and Drengen thought that he should probably stop him but he’d already gone below decks before the thought had finished forming.
The rain still drenching him he slowly sat himself up. Even with his head still spinning like a rowboat in a whirlpool he knew that a fire on a ship was bad. Very bad. So he crawled slowly toward the cleaning cupboard. There were buckets in there, buckets that could be filled with water.
Then a huge wave crashed over him and drove him to the deck again. Luckily this time he’d been on his hands and knees and so he didn’t have far to go. Shaking himself off he rolled over and saw a woman on the ship. Where had she come from?
The fire was out, that was good. But looking at the woman through one eye he figured she could potentially be an even worse problem. She was beautiful, that much was certain. Outlined against the lightning that was now flashing through the sky she glared down at him with furious eyes. Terrible eyes. Golden eyes.
She had long black hair woven into dreadlocks with seashells and coral all through it. She didn’t wear very much, just rags made of what looked like rubbery kelp. And she was covered in water. Far more water than she could have possibly gotten from the rain. It drenched her hair and her skin and her clothes. Even her golden eyes seemed to have water dripping into them.
Luckily, despite all her fury and probably magical powers she decided to spare him and walked right past after the fat man. Drengen struggled to remember what it was he’d been doing and then remembered the fire. He had a brief moment of panic before he remembered it was out already and so he just lay there tapping his fingers. Lightning flashed across the sky above him. What was going on?
Oron didn’t know what was going on. He just knew that he needed to get away from that lightning. What if everything he’d thought had been wrong? What if the ship just had control over the storms somehow? What if there was nothing down here that could help him? Hell, what if that pirate hadn’t been lying and there actually were a whole bunch more pirates about to kill him as he ran down through the ship?
He reached the bottom and found a locked door. Panic and fear rose up in him and he wanted to just sit down and cry. This wasn’t what he did. He sat at a desk and got other people to do this sort of work for him. He-
A woman walked up behind him. A beautiful woman wearing kelp and coral. She stared at him furiously with golden eyes.
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
“You- you already hurt my guards. You killed them!”
“The lightning hit the ship not them, it just knocked them off into the ocean. They’re still alive. You were the only one I couldn’t get in time.”
“Oh... so...”
“What are you doing on this ship?” She was still walking toward him and he was powerless to stop her so he tried what he did best. Bargaining.
“I can help you rescue Sengrid?”
She stopped and stared at him. “You... know...”
“I know about Sengrid and how you were in love and how Mangon captured him. I-”
“You know what poison he uses?”
Oron eyes went wide with fear. Poison? He knew nothing about a poison. “I... of course,” he said and immediately regretted it. Lying to a sorceress. What was he thinking? Sure, the combined forces of the Hallowed Realm had been able to kill a phoenix and he had been tangentially involved but that didn’t mean he had any real experience in these matters. That didn’t mean he could play this game with the real powers in the world.
“What poison does he use then?” Bara said, crossing her arms angrily. Oron looked at her, she looked very young. It was difficult to notice before with her regal appearance and intimidating eyes but her expressions, her movements, her face. She was barely more than a teenager. Of course who knew how sorceresses aged, but perhaps there was hope. Perhaps he could manipulate her after all. Perhaps he really was able to play this game. Mangon could after all. Surely if a lowly pirate could do it, an experienced merchant like him would have no trouble.
“It’s a terrible one, difficult to make, difficult to cure. But not impossible.”
Bara rolled her terrible golden eyes. Oron figured he should likely get to the point, which meant he should figure out what the point was very quickly.
“I can’t cure it but I know someone who can. A witch, a very powerful witch who helped kill the Phoenix of Fort Sundrick.”
“The what?”
“The.. the Phoenix of Fort Sundrick. You know... the- the Monster of Hellfire and Ruin. The Herald of the Armies of The Uprising. The Rider in Red. The greatest threat the Hallowed Realm has ever known... well I suppose not anymore but... Anyway I helped, you know. Without me it would have surely destroyed Castle Elkring.”
“Right,” Bara said, unimpressed. “And this witch? Where is she now?”
In his new research into the myths and superstitions of the world Oron had of course started with looking into the witches whose plan it was that had killed the phoenix in the first place. Gushkabel was dead and the Witch Queen Nath could be anywhere, but he knew where Magda was. So this was a question he could answer.
“She’s in Elkrater.”
“Where’s that?”
“You know... the new town that they’re building by the giant crater to house all the refugees from Castle Elkring...”
“I thought you said you helped save Castle Elkring.”
“From the phoenix not from the meteors. You must know the meteors. The whole sky’s red you know!”
“I don’t get out much.”
“Clearly.”
“Anyway, Castle Elkring’s miles away. Who knows how long Sengrid will live without the antidote?”
“Well can’t you just fly him there on one of your monsters?” Oron asked, once again flexing the research he’d been doing. Sorceresses had all kinds of monsters at their beck and call, that was something the unnamed sorceress from the war had been famous for.
But Bara just looked at him in disgust. “No!” she said horrified. “I don’t do that. That’s horrible!”
Oron frowned. Maybe he’d missed something. He didn’t have much time to think about it though because Bara leapt forward to glare right up at his face, filling his nostrils with the smell of the sea and filling his heart and body with trembling fear.
“You are going to tell me the poison’s name. And if I find that you’ve lied to me I will hunt you down across the ends of the earth and I will toss you into the most furious storm I can conjure where you will be tossed around as you slowly freeze and eventually drown into the depths of the sea where no remnant of your body will ever be found.”
“I... uh...” Oron muttered. Perhaps he’d been wrong, perhaps there was no way he could play this game, perhaps he was going to die right here right now without ever escaping his once great city. But then he remembered something. Or more specifically someone, someone he’d known about and used long before he’d ever gotten into any of these myths and legends and monsters and superstitions.
“A poison you say?” he said smiling, some of his fear fading away. “In that case I actually might know someone who can help. Someone right here in the city.”
“You might?!”
“Uh I mean I do. She knows more about poisons than anyone else in the Hallowed Realm. Got a poison for everything she does.”
Bara stepped back slowly. “Where can I find her?”
Nayras had once been a master ninja. She could climb sheer buildings and infiltrate the nobility. She’d once fired a crossbow bolt attached to a string from one castle to another and then walked along it to get to her next victim. That had been a long time ago though. Now she was old and worked as a fishmonger. She still had all her ninja equipment. Her sword, her masks, even the crossbow she’d used and she had a new apprentice she was training up, Freyan. Freyan would no doubt master it all soon, especially with all the practise she was getting running about in a city given over to criminals and mercenaries. Nayras was mostly avoiding running about. Her back ached and her legs trembled and her arms sent shivers of fear up her body whenever she thought about climbing so much as a ladder. She’d really let herself go. She knew some ninjas had joined ancient monk temples high in the mountains and mastered their mind and body so this sort of thing never happened to them. She hadn’t gotten to that point, she’d been hit by a spear in the hip and ever since then her body had never really been the same.
There was one thing she could still do though. One thing she’d always been good at. And that, was poisons.