My mother returned to her nereid family beneath the sea after my father broke her heart.

She walked us into the waves one day, never looking back.

Her brother and sisters took us in, gave us safety and love.

It couldn’t erase the burning in my soul to end the man who destroyed my mother.

Captain’s Log, Mayhem

Captain Fraser Connell

****

“Gahan, deliver me from meddlesome mages.”

“Captain?” Bishop paused, letting the oars drag in the water. The tiny skiff was just big enough for the two of us. Cramped, but the trip from the beach under the cliff to Mayhem’s quay didn’t take long.

“Nothing. Just complaining out loud.” I muttered, staring out across the water, my dark thoughts a match for the inky depths. Bishop resumed rowing.

Finally found him. Gordon’s disappearance solved at last. I had a lot of questions for my old friend. Didn’t expect his answers to be good.

I’d been out hunting sigils when Bishop found me today. At least that’s what I told Taenya and Ozora. It was even true. It just wasn’t the entire truth.

My hunt for Gordon had nothing to do with them or magecraft. None of their business and the less I talk to either of them, the better off I am.

Besides, I could search for sigils at the same time as I searched for Gordon’s whereabouts. I found plenty of sigils, but Gordon? All I found were empty buildings and dead ends. I’d set the crew to searching as well, but their luck matched mine. Until Bishop brought good news.

“He’s been spotted, Captain. In the old brewery.”

By the time we got there, the brewery was empty. “I trust the fellow who found him. Known him since I lived here before.” Bishop said. “He told me this is where Gordon sleeps. Why don’t we come back tonight and grab him after he passes out?”

We planned for him to pick me up on the beach below the keep tonight and take me to Mayhem to collect up the rest of the crew. “I do not want him getting away again. Make sure you bring enough men, Bishop.”

He nodded, a toothy grin splitting his face. “I’ll send word when Gordon’s spotted again.”

The message came that evening. Bishop’d be at the beach by midnight. Taenya and Ozora were already celebrating completing the map. Good for them. I figured at the rate they were going, they’d both pass out before I left.

Really wish they hadn’t caught my exit. I ground my teeth but set my eyes on the fast-approaching harbor. Mayhem rested several slots away. Bishop pulled us up alongside the massive stone retaining walls that divided the water of the bay from the city, right next to a steep stairwell up to the street.

“Where’s the crew?” I asked.

“Already waiting near the brewery. This slip is closer than going all the way to Mayhem and walking back.” He answered, voice muffled as he bent to tie up the skiff to the metal rings sunk into the stone.

Finding out Gordon had sunk to sleeping in an abandoned brewery shocked me, but so much of what I’d found in Hastrior shocked me. The sigils that blanketed the city had Ozora convinced they had something to do with the city’s downfall. I wasn’t so sure.

I had a lot of questions for my old friend Gordon Derryngton.

The Gordon I’d known before would never have slept in an abandoned brewery, or let the city deteriorate. My friend had stayed because he wanted to keep Hastrior thriving. That man would’ve fought to prevent this from happening. He’d promised to keep the city running. What had gone so wrong, he’d abandoned it?

The brewery sat several blocks back from the harbor. We passed no one coming or going, and no magelights shone from the buildings or street lamps.

“Don’t light up, sir. We don’t need that.” Bishop cautioned when I would’ve ignited a small luminous crystal. The tiny magelight gave a narrow beam, but bright. “Don’t give him any hint. Our men are in position. They’ll be ready.” The further moon had nearly set, poised to dip below the horizon, but there remained enough light for us to see our way through the dark streets.

The shadows deepened as we entered the brewery. Wide cargo doors stood open like a hungry mouth, but the sinking moon’s light didn’t pierce very far.

We walked some fifteen feet into the deeper shadows of a wide-open warehouse space. Our footsteps echoed, bouncing between the slab walls and giant vats that loomed at the edges. Scarcely distinguishable from the night sky, they stood in front of tall clerestory windows lining the top of the wall.

Brilliant magelights flashed, blinding me.

“I did not expect that to work.” I blinked to clear my vision, but that voice was too familiar. “You just walked right into it. Have your wits gone soft out there on the island?” It took a few more moments to see Gordon Derryngton standing some ten feet in front of me. A half-dozen men flanked him.

I am all kinds of a fool.

****

“There he is. Now he’s coming about.” My head rocked back, and I stared up at Gordon, my braid pulled tight in his fist. “It’s been a long time, Captain.” He sneered the last word. “I thought we had a deal. You would go play with your water ponies and stay the fuck out of Hastrior. In return, Hastrior is mine.” His fingers tightened at the base of my skull, pulling the skin at my temples taut.

Everything hurt. It had taken all of them to take me down. I’d cast a shield spell so their knockout spells didn’t work, but that didn’t stop them from all taking their turns beating me. I had two on each arm by the time I cast the shield spell.

Stolen story; please report.

They didn’t hold me long, but they were smart. One of them cut my sword belt, or this night would’ve gone differently. Another pulled a club and the other five piled onto me. Don’t remember anything after that.

Gordon pulling my hair was nothing.

My gaze roved, seeking clues to where they held me, but all I could see right now was the ceiling and Gordon’s aged face. The intervening years weren’t kind to my friend.

He had me bent back in the chair I was bound to, a simple upright backrest on a hard wooden seat, holding me only by my hair. My neck and back arched in his grasp. I wrapped my hands around the wooden dowels of the backrest and pushed, taking some of the strain off. The wood rolled under my hand and squeaked, then stopped.

“So, why are you back here now? Blowing up ships, taking over the keep. Why do you care what happens here?” Gordon released me and slapped the back of my head, making it rock again.

This was all kinds of bad.

I scanned my surroundings. This didn’t look like the brewery or anything near it. This was a run-down ground floor room in an old house somewhere. I couldn’t see much outside the windows I faced. There was nothing beyond the dark. In the room, two lackeys stood guarding the doors at opposite ends. Both were closed. Turning my head, I saw a small brick-surrounded fireplace on the wall behind me.

“More, why are you looking for me and learning magic?” He paused his pacing to bend over and look me in the eye. “Must say, buddy, that one surprised me. The old Fraser didn’t care for magic beyond his pets. Easier to buy spells off a mage, you always said. Why the fresh interest?” He straightened and tapped his chin. “Could it be because your pretty little mage has returned? You remember, the one that sank Skirmisher? Why are you so friendly with her now?”

“Someone’s been telling tales.” I said. I’d known Bishop for a couple of years now, trusted him.

“Everyone has a price.” Gordon’s grin stretched wide. “Bishop’s wasn’t much. Those sigils sure helped.”

“Yeah, what’s up with those?” The longer I could keep him talking, the more chance I had to figure a way out of this. The downside was I had to listen to Gordon tell his story. Being a bard, he loved the sound of his voice.

“This city was doomed when you killed its Prince, Fraser.” Off to a dramatic start. Not surprised. “You might captain a ship and command men, but you fail at city rulership. Prince Bart was hated, and you had your reasons, but you destroyed this city for what? Because he was breeding and selling hippocamps?” He pointed out the windows to the darkness outside. “It’s not like there aren’t plenty more swimming out there in the seas.”

I gritted my teeth. He was right. Absolutely. He was just leaving out the most important part.

“You told me to go!” The words burst out and even in my anger, there was a stab of pain at losing the friend he had been. I’d suspected, but having it shoved in my face cut deeper. “Yes, I left, but only because you swore to me you could handle it. Remember that part, old friend?” I growled. Tugging at the bindings around my wrists and ankles was useless. The ropes held me fast. I couldn’t shift my legs or arms more than a fraction from where he’d tied them behind my back and to the legs of my chair. “Or are you forgetting how you begged me to go?”

His eyes crinkled in amusement at my struggles. “The last time I saw you, you were a wreck. Crying over Ozora leaving you when you should’ve been praising Nahit she took her crazy elsewhere.”

Is that what he saw? My pain as weakness?

“I never took you for frail, Fraser. Ozora sank your ship and your answer was to shrivel and weep like a child with a broken toy.” He sneered. “What use is a heart to a privateer? Or a prince, for that matter? The man who swam above the waves all those years ago was steeped in revenge.” Gordon flung his arms wide in emphasis. “He took Skirmisher!”

Then he lunged at me. I steeled myself not to react.

“Drove a sword through his father’s belly without regard for such a paltry thing as a heart.” He matched the motion to words, miming a sword thrust at my chest. His gaze locked on mine down the straight line of his extended arm. “That man was my brother. I would’ve followed that Fraser into hell.” Gordon straightened from his lunge, never breaking his stare. “That man would’ve killed that mage bitch for what she did.”

A red haze clouded my vision, but Gordon didn’t stop there. “Where’s Fraser Connell, Scourge of the Sea?” He made a show of shading his eyes as if searching for something.

“Dead!” He dropped his hand, then poked me in the chest with two stiff fingers. “Because the Fraser Connell I knew would’ve killed both those women up at that keep a long time ago.” Pressure built in my gut, and I strained against the ropes. The chair creaked in protest. Gordon stood abruptly. “Instead, you let Taenya and her brother escape, then turned into a weeping baby over Ozora.”

“Taenya and her brother were idiots and their scheme never really had a chance. You knew that. Why so bloodthirsty, Gordon? This is a new side to you.” He just laughed at my question like he didn’t hear it, answering with one of his own.

“Do you want to know why I volunteered to stay?” His gloating, twisted grin said he was about to drop a juicy tidbit he’d been hoarding. “You never asked me back then, just said thank you and took off. Do you want to know why I stayed in Hastrior? Instead of sailing with you to rescue still more hippocamps from Duke Pastainell?” Gordon rolled his eyes and took two steps closer, bent over so his scornful gaze hit mine.

“Because I couldn’t stand to look at your sad, sorry, defeated face for one more second.” Gordon’s grin said he was enjoying every minute of this. The bindings and chair creaked promisingly, but I remained bound fast. He knew he had me secure, and with his goons in place … well, I’m good, and I’d give my best, but … Gordon knew there was nothing I could do to get free. “After Ozora, you were a pathetic husk of the Fraser I knew and loved.”

He had me, and he knew it.

You could never accuse Gordon of stupidity. He’d brought me far inland. I had no idea how long I was out, but I couldn’t feel the ocean from here. No salt or moisture touched the stale air here in this room. My numin was only a faint trickle, hardly enough to sustain me. Nowhere near enough to cast. The land surrounding this house was dry as old bones. There was no water anywhere nearby to replenish my energies. Gordon knew me well and knew my weakest point. He’d brought me here to cripple me, making me easier to kill.

Otherwise, I could’ve snapped out of these ropes or shattered this chair. I couldn’t even cast the simple untying spell Ozora taught me. My numin flows from my nereid blood. This far from water, this dry, I had next to none.

“But Ozora wasn’t your only weakness. Those damn hippocamps.” He threw his hands into the air as if to toss away his frustration. “You crumpled the day you saw those pitiful sea nags. The old Fraser would’ve taken the prince’s gold and walked away. Not given a damn about what Bart kept in his stables.” Gordon snapped his fingers dismissively, biting scorn coating his face, distorting his features. “The Fraser that was born from Bartholomew’s death is a spineless, sentimental fool. You were such a broken man that one terrible love affair sent you running after more hippocamps. Instead of taking this city’s riches.”

Tugging at his waistcoat, he gestured to one of the guards.

Clearly, Gordon did not sleep rough in some abandoned brewery. He was clean, impeccably groomed, and his fine linen and silk trousers and waistcoat were tailored to his form. He pulled a watch from his pocket, looking up as the guard approached. After muttering in the man’s ear, he waited as the guard spun and left the room, as if gathering his thoughts.

“You were so ready to walk away from wealth.” Gordon wagged one finger, then tapped his chest. “I am not such a fool.” He strolled behind me to a table pushed up against the wall next to the fireplace.

“Outstanding job you’ve done here, Gordy.” I said with false sincerity. “It’s thriving under your benevolent guidance. If it was all about the money, why stop the river of gold that was Hastrior?”

“Because there is no stopping the Emperor.” His amber eyes glowed as he stepped round from behind me. My breath stopped.

Gordon had no numin. He was a fighter and a bard, but his use of spells was limited to pre-loaded magic items. The icy pale numin that limned his gaze cast a pallor over his face. “Hastrior and the Eastern Reaches will once more fall under his rule. He is implacable and unstoppable.”

“But if you serve him, he will spare you?” I asked, had to hear him say it.

Gordon’s eyes glittered, and a nastiness I’d never seen in him lit his smile. “His emissary is most generous to those with wisdom.”

This was decidedly not the Gordon I once knew.

“Seems I’m not the only one to have a change of heart. Difference between you and me?” I leaned toward him, far as the ropes would let me.

He was going to kill me. I knew that look on his face, even with the ghostly light of another’s numin animating my friend’s form.

Damned if I’d let him think I was scared.

I wasn’t.

I told him why.

“I found my soul with those hippocamps. You’ve sold yours to evil.”

****