image [https://i.imgur.com/e5X3jZl.jpg]
Hitching an early morning ride upriver to Fort Krek relaxed me after our surreal tour of another dimension. Only the seagulls made noise in the early hours, and we counted for the vessel’s only passengers. Their occasional calls provided the chatter while dockworkers silently loaded the flatboat. Puffs of mist lingered over the water’s surface. Heavy sounds broke the stillness when barrels and crates thumped against the decks, still slippery with dew. Unfurling and hoisting the sails revealed a dry spot on the deck, and the crew offered it as a place to sit. This courtesy kept us out of their way during the cargo transfers.
I summoned my Familiar to counter the chill of the moist morning air, but my ungrateful griffon hopped immediately into Fabulosa’s lap. I offered Beaker hydra meat and nuts from the market. Beaker picked through the things he liked, dropping everything he didn’t to the ground. He had a diverse palate and ate some bits more often than others. By the time he’d finished, the crew had cast off and turned upstream under sail.
Fabulosa cuddled up with Beaker. The griffon began making soft cooing noises, indicating a sleeping state. The sounds of lapping water and creaking wood lulled them to sleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Sailing upstream took more effort than rolling along with the current. The flatboat tacked back and forth, harnessing the wind’s power. Its jib sail luffed before popping into shape when it caught the wind. The crew adjusted it with every tack.
I closed my eyes. The boat’s relentless rustling canvas and groaning wood hypnotized me, but I never drifted asleep. The prospect of learning something about Thaxter’s mysterious symbols kept me on edge, and the familiar itch preoccupying my thoughts returned. I couldn’t help but feel I’d missed something important, like clues of a mystery gathering around me—almost presenting themselves, yet I couldn’t recognize them. I directed an envious look toward my dozing companions before getting to work.
Before burying myself in the Archon, I pawed through our recent haul of magic items. I first inspected the egg.
Item
Unhatched Sodium Basilisk
Rarity
Rare (yellow)
Description
Level 15 magic item
Item use—Break open to summon a juvenile sodium basilisk. Creatures gazing at a basilisk turn to salt unless their willpower is strong enough to resist its effects. Distance from basilisk increases resistance to salinification at a maximum of 30 yards. Newly hatched basilisks are hungry and hostile, so don’t expect an ally or pet.
This salt grenade needed careful handling, and we couldn’t use it near Hawkhurst or civilized areas. It provided an escape mechanic and a panacea against enemy players. Unfortunately, turning people into salt counted as a natural ability, not magic, so we couldn’t watch it from the Dark Room and expect to avoid its effects. My Wall of Wind’s surface wasn’t reflective, so I made a mental note to commission Rory and Fin to make shiny shields that could double as mirrors.
Fabulosa woke up as I stuffed the egg into the void bag. I curled my lip when I unrolled the stinking yellow bandages, handling them with fingertips like they carried the plague.
Item
Mummy Wraps
Rarity
Rare (yellow)
Description
Level 40 magic item
Item use—Wrapping rags around unlooted corpse creates a mummy half the target’s level. Mummy obeys one-word commands. Concentration must be maintained to sustain control.
Creating a meat shield had incredible potential in the right situation. We’d killed some high-level monsters, and having one under our beck and call shifted my imagination into gear. After unraveling it, the magic spool of putrid fabric yielded an indefinite amount of wrapping—so monster size wasn’t a limitation.
It disappointed me that the undead’s subservience expired once concentration ended, which begged the issue of killing the mummy before losing control. Neither the bandages nor the egg bestowed a permanent pet.
It made sense the target creature had to be living, so I couldn’t use this on anything with a cracked core—like golems, constructs, or other undead.
I couldn’t remember if mummies had vulnerability to sunlight, but I didn’t think so. I reread the description carefully. The specification requiring an unlooted corpse deflated me. Significant monster kills yielded nice loot, or at least a valuable core—and resisting the urge to pilfer the corpse wouldn’t be easy. A monster’s core would crack after its mummy tenure.
Another textile made for the last magic item.
Item
Bolt of Steel Wool
Rarity
Masterwork (green)
Description
Level 10 magic item
Item use—Steel wool fabric is as strong as steel. A bolt is 60 inches wide and 100 yards long.
The steel wool felt like it came from a sheep, not the brillo pad substance beneath the kitchen sink. It felt warm and flexible to the touch. Perhaps it might be itchy, but it otherwise looked comfortable to wear. What’s more, the fabric wasn’t shiny or metallic. It looked like any other bolt of material, except it felt durable. Magnetize revealed it to be highly conductive, which meant it wouldn’t be good for magic casters. I would have liked to see how it could improve my armor.
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The metal fabric looked susceptible to rust, so I left it in my inventory with all the mist and moisture on the boat. I wondered what tools might cut through the stuff and decided this would be better in Rory’s capable hands. He would probably know if he could cut through steel wool or if he needed to heat it beforehand.
Fabulosa held out the ring she’d found with the coins.
Item
Ring of Fireball Diversion
Rarity
Rare (yellow)
Description
Level 15 magic item
Item use—User may divert fireballs heading to their position toward a new destination.
Fabulosa grunted. “I don’t know about this ring. Diverting only Fireballs is awfully specific, and they only do between 20 and 30 damage. If you’re protecting squishies, it might make sense. I already have Reverb, so you take it.” She tossed it to me. “You could use it to protect our citizens.”
I caught the ring and slipped it on my finger. Its chief standout revolved around its lack of a cooldown. If enemies used Fireballs to overwhelm us, it had its place, but otherwise, it seemed a useless ring.
The Rammons’ vault held no weapons or armor. Nothing in his inventory geared us up, which I suppose made sense. The grandson served as a politician who likely sold his grandfather’s more powerful magic items long beforehand. This odd assortment of curios led me to believe he wouldn’t miss what we stole, aside from the money, and since we would be on the river for the next couple of days, I put off counting the coins and opened our prize, the Archon.
The Archon’s multilingual mix of Common and Irrogean reminded me of assembly instructions. Luckily, the section titles used Common, so I quickly ascertained its range of subjects. It covered nautical history, including the most extensive map I’d ever seen of Miros—its entire coastline plus those of faraway continents. From what I remember of the orrery’s globe, its worldwide atlas looked accurate.
Strangely enough, the map included divisions in the ocean, using Irrogean words and labels. The oceanic divisions lay adjacent, looking like political areas of control. This reverse atlas illustrated marine life, detailing the ocean instead of the land.
The only exception showed specifics along the north shore of the continent. All the information covered long-gone cities and civilizations.
The book contained a marine biology section where I recognized the anomalocaris creatures I’d seen in the ward worm’s lair. Content about them included headings like history and religion. Another chapter covered demonology, complete with annotated symbols and pictures. I recognized the pentagram. A geography chapter diagramed plate tectonics. Commentary filled the back half of the book, and the unnamed author had written it entirely in Irrogean.
The prospect of translating daunted me, so I skipped the text and looked for more maps and diagrams. For broad strokes, pictures helped me more than text. I flipped the pages until I came to a section of symbols looking like the mark Commander Thaxter had written.
I pulled out the scrap of parchment Iris had given us and compared Thaxter’s glyphs to those in the Archon. When I matched one to Thaxter’s, I decrypted the Irrogean words next to it using the translation book Hana Bakir gave me. The symbol insinuated something like “deadly to the environment or nature.” That sounded ominous, but it ultimately explained nothing.
Could this be a warning to stay away? If aliens or a foreign civilization landed on Earth after humans disappeared, how could we warn them about radioactive waste or biohazards without language? Would a skull mean anything to them—and would death carry even the same negative connotation as it does in human cultures?
Beaker and Fabulosa went elsewhere on the boat. My griffon exercised, and I could hear Fabulosa’s voice over the creaking boat.
I abandoned trying to connect Commander Thaxter’s squiggles to the Archon and put away the books. Instead, I rested my eyes while the countryside passed.
As the flatboat fought upstream on our 3-day journey to Fort Krek, I wondered if Iris had improved the situation.
Over the following days on the river, I translated more passages from the Archon, but the task went slowly. I learned nothing comprehensive before the flatboat reached Fort Krek and doubted we’d find anything useful. Irrogean, a dead language, counted as a human tongue. But Iris described her commander’s ravings as more alien.
When the flatboat docked at Fort Krek, Fabulosa and I disembarked quickly. The crew looked happy to have us out of their way, and using our legs again felt good—like we recharged our batteries and burned excess energy. We made a straight line for the New Jay tavern.
Even at midday, I expected to see a few soldiers, but the bar and tables lay vacant. I asked Chassy, the barkeep if he’d seen Iris, Sami, Val, or Jahid.
“Sami and Val came here yesterday. They talked to Porter and the boys, but I haven’t seen ‘em since. As you can see, it’s dead today—probably because of inside business.”
I inferred from his intonation that inside meant the fort. “Is Thaxter back in command?”
“You think I would know?” Chassy scoffed and shook his head. “His shiny boots have never graced The Jay’s floorboards. This is a grunt hangout—the only current circulating here is rumors. I only know what townies know—the fort is on lockdown. If I’d wager a guess, Thaxter is still a few guards short of a garrison—if you know what I mean.”
I thanked him for the update.
Fabulosa nudged me. “Let’s check out the fort. Maybe we can send word for Iris.”
We got lucky and spotted Sami on the way to the gatehouse. He sat along a row of outside tables amongst a gang of tough-looking citizens—none of them wore uniforms.
Sami greeted us with an informal nod, keeping his voice low, out of the earshot of his companions. “Guv, L.T.”
His reception struck me as a bit cool, and after he didn’t volunteer anything, I kicked off the conversation with the obvious question. “We’re back from Malibar. Has there been any news from Iris?”
Sami looked nervous. “No news, but let me show you the best place for chow. Have you had roasted grass thrasher?”
Fabulosa and I shrugged and exchanged questioning glances.
Sami dropped some coins on the table and bid his companions farewell. He caught up with us, and we walked down the thoroughfare toward the fort’s gatehouse.
Fabulosa thumbed behind her. “What was that about back there?”
Sami’s eyes shifted when he answered. “Sorry, L.T. They’re old bunkmates. Many are merchants in town and don’t know your faces. I don’t want to give the impression I’m spilling my guts about fort business to outsiders—if you’ll pardon the expression.”
Fabulosa waved her hand to show she took no offense. She and I just wanted news.
Sami sighed heavily. “Yesterday, they had a housecleaning. Staff officers issued a split no-confidence vote on Thaxter’s command. His loyalists broke ranks last night and went south with the commander.” Sami put up his palm in a calming gesture after seeing our faces. “The fort issued warrants of sedition, but half of the garrison left on a sortie. With everyone up north, they don’t have the numbers to retrieve Thaxter.”
Fabulosa nodded. “Where is Iris in all this?”
“That’s the good news, ma’am. Captain Sternway has an official advisory role.”
“And the pushback against the orcs is working?”
“Oh, most assuredly, ma’am. The remaining staff is of one mind. They’ll probably follow up with another strike against them in the northeast. That’s just the fort scuttlebutt. I don’t know for sure.”
I gestured to the fort. “Is there a way to get a hold of Iris? I want to speak to her.”
Sami gestured to the fort. “I’ll talk to the gate. They’ll get word to her, but it might take a while.”
I nodded and turned to Fabulosa. “Are you hungry?”
Fabulosa shrugged.
Sami pointed to a set of tables sitting beneath a canopy. “That’s the unofficial mess for the off-duty guards. Get some chow from the Goat Hill Tavern and wait there if you like. They have an all-day breakfast, and I wasn’t lying about the grass thrashers. They’re good. The Goat Hill will fix you up.”
We bid Sami farewell and followed his suggestion by going to the tavern.
We ate grass thrasher, which tasted like dark meat chicken. We fed Beaker bits of food, but he preferred uncooked meat.
The griffon withdrew to a nearby rooftop after we cleared our plates. Occasionally, he squawked when someone passed by with food or livestock.
“Rabbits?” Beaker mentally cried in my head when a tanner passed carrying a stack of pelts.
“No, Beaker. Not for you. Those are someone else’s rabbits. You can’t take food from strangers. Would you like it if someone took yours away? Besides, they have no meat. If you want rabbit meat, you must catch your own.”
“Rabbits!” Beaker fluttered his wings threateningly, but he heeded my warnings and stayed put.