CHAPTER 1.13 WRONG DOIN'S

The man with silver-hands.

Busco's words revolved around his head endlessly. The very nature of sound ceased to exist save for that one phrase that reverberated between his skull. He could see Taisha was looking at him, and concern had begun to cloud her face. She might have mouthed his name, but he did not hear it. His fingers trembled, first from the tips, then down until his very forearms threatened to convulse. The Mountain-Eve with metal arms slowly sat up, his head swirling in confusion. His long, black hair was matted, and in his beard were small drops of drool and water. His body was pale but toned, he certainly had the body of a lean killer.

“Artie? You okay?” A voice called to him from the fog.

“Hm? Yeah, 'course.” He said, forcing a smile.

Taisha was confused, and Sylo Teht slowly turned his head to study him. His irises were a bright green, and like other Eve's, took up most of the space of the eye. There was a drowsiness to them as he brought himself up, leaning in the cot. The world outside of the porthole was constantly shifting, the sea becoming the sky and back again.

“The pail?” She asked, slightly impatiently. “Can you pass it to me?”

“Oh, of course.” Artie said, clumsily turning around to the small shelf of humble medical supplies.

A small pail was filled halfway with fresh water, and she took it from him gently. Sylo snatched it from her grasp, draining the water so quickly that half of it ran down his beard and chest. Taisha put her hands in her lap, worried as she studied him. When the pail was empty he wiped his mouth with his forearm, and handed it to her without thanks. She placed it on the ground, and nervously looked at Artie. The Mountain-Eve sighed and reclined himself again.

“Where am I?” He asked with a gravelly voice.

“The Hunnigan's Glory.” Taisha answered. “We found you in the water.”

Sylo Teht grunted, shifting his weight from one arm to the other. He grimaced, but did not voice a reply. Artifae could see the wheels turning behind his emerald eyes as he worked to piece together the events that brought him here. Artie shifted nervously, shuffling as he was heading to the exit. Taisha sighed lightly, evidently still worried. Before Artie could say anything, she slowly stood.

“Artie, can you watch him for a minute? I'm going to tell the captain he's awake.”

Artie swallowed hard.

“Uh, sure. Sure I can.” He said awkwardly.

The two men watched as she left the room and into the swaying corridor. A silence both thick and awkward drenched itself upon them, and Artifae was horrified to discover he could not tear his eyes away from the Eve.

“Somethin' wrong, boy?” Sylo asked tenuously.

Artie tried to open his mouth to speak, but the words refused to budge. The long Evean ears twitched, struggling to hear the words that did not exist. Artie felt his skin grow pale and the blood from his extremities pool at the bottom of his soles. He had become empty and alone with a killer.

“You're Sylo Teht.” He whispered.

The Evean ears flickered aggressively. The Mountain-Eve's eyes snapped to Artie than away again.

“That's not my name. Don't know what you're talkin' about.” He said, little more than a growl.

Artie remained silent and still, unable to move, breathe or think. Sylo Teht looked to him again quickly, then back to his hands. He studied them, realising they had turned metal, gleaming in the dripping sunlight. He looked at Artie fatefully, his eyes narrowing.

“You killed Master Se.” Artifae said without reason, fuelled by compulsion.

Sylo Teht gritted his teeth. That was the last thing Artifae saw before he was up, the bed-wraps flailing in the wind as they fell. He was tall, much taller than Artifae. His pantaloons clung to strong legs, which even in an instant, Artie could see were not silver. He was in front of Artifae before he could move, and metal enclosed itself on his throat. He felt the floorboards under his boots disappear, as he was hoisted off of the ground. The emerald sinkholes beyond a silver mountain enclosed themselves over his vision. The very breath in his oesophagus was stolen and the passageway barricaded. The man with silver hands said nothing, but his teeth were glaring. His breath was sharp and ragged, and he stared many centuries of hatred and Hel into Artifae's soul. Artie could barely wiggle, let alone struggle. His hands tried to coil around the metal arms, the cold metal brushing under his palms as his feet dangled a few inches off of the ground.

There were footsteps, coming towards them. Sylo hadn't noticed, so overcome with anger was he, but Artie moved his eyes dramatically, and the Eve took the signal. Reluctantly, he opened his fist, and Artifae fell back onto the floorboards, gasping and wheezing as the Captain, the first mate, and Taisha walked into the room.

“Are you okay, Mister Sajaestan?” Captain Albahr asked, concerned.

Artie continued to wheeze and rub his throat. Sylo Teht was already back in his cot, his breathing calmed, but his glare still sharp.

“Yeah, yeah.” Artifae wheezed, waving his hand dismissively. “Just some water down the wrong pipe.”

“Why don't you step outside and get some air, then. Captain wants a word with the survivor.” First mate Ban said.

Artie nodded as he weakly left. He could feel Taisha studying him with worry, and the daggers straight from Sylo's eyes as he left them.

The sky was pockmarked with red and orange, great and terrifying storms of fire reflected over the endless waves. Artie walked in a daze as he got to the railing, resting his chin on his wrists as he stared at the threats of indigo and purple creeping towards them.

He's here. He's actually here.

He tried to exhale, but the breath wouldn't escape past his tongue.

The man with silver hands. Damn, I'm sorry I didn't believe you Busco. He's real, he's here, and I'm trapped on a boat in the middle of the ocean with him.

The sea moved in silent agreement with him, but the world was still.

I'm sorry Busco. I don't know if I'll get to tell you he's here. Not that I'd want to know what you'd do if you were.

He frowned.

Must be the first of Quintus today. Huh, that means he'll be at the Hran'Thru tournament, if he's back by now.

He let the sea transform into dirt, the smell of sweat and dust as he, Busco and his family watched two Nocterrans force boulders and clods of dirt at each-other. He had learned not to be too enthusiastic amongst the stoic audience, but he still remembered the sparks of adrenaline during the matches.

That's where I probably should be. Home, with my friends, not on a ship filled with enemies.

Sounds of a struggle turned his attention away, as he saw a small crowd gathered around the metal locker that had been found with Sylo. Amaegar amount of supplies had also been scrounged, barrels of water and dried food were being moved by the crew, but the fascination was centred around the mysterious box. In the centre of it all was the Bronze-Dvergr, Kutja, cursing as he tried to cram a flat knife between it.

“It still ain't openin'.” He growled through gritted teeth.

Besides him, was a tall Loromas, one of the parrot-folk. His feathers were bright green with flashes of red and yellow under his curved, grey beak. One of his iridescent blue eyes was covered by a patch, and a bandana was tied tightly over his head. His wings draped from under his wrists, coiled between his arms and shoulders, and he took the crate with taloned fingers, but Kutja wouldn't budge.

“Let me have a go.” The Loromas said.

“Gerroff it.” Kutja snarled. “It's mine.”

The crowd suddenly stopped and stiffened at the sound of more footsteps on deck.

“Attention on deck!” Ban called out, and the commotion ceased.

Captain Albahr looked out amongst his crew plainly.

“The course is set. Our new passenger has confirmed there is indeed an inlet nearby. A day and a half of sailing south and east.” He said with a strange sense of nobility.

“What is it we lookin' for, cap'n?” Kutja asked, dropping the casket behind him.

“Treasure.” Captain Albahr said, giving Artifae a nod.

Several of the crew turned to look at him also, each with a cut-throat smile. Artie smiled nervously.

“We'll cruise through the night.” Ban added. “Get there in no time.”

The captain nodded to all of them in unison.

“Dismissed, then. To your stations.” He said, as he turned and left.

The crowd murmured as they returned to the solid crate, each devising a new way to crack it. Artifae stretched as night began to take hold of the sky.

******************************************************************************************

It was before the pink glow of the moon had fully emerged when Artifae found himself in front of the captain's quarters. He hesitated before knocking, but knew that he should. He rapped with his knuckles gently, and waited, but there was no response. He cleared his throat and waited for a minute, before knocking again.

This was a mistake. He's not even here.

He had turned around to leave when he heard the sound of Dhib Albahr's boots on creaking wood. He stood to attention like a soldier when he met the captain's confused eyes.

“Captain.” He said, barely daring to make eye contact.

“Mister Sajaestan.” The captain said wearily. “May I help you?”

The stare terrifies me, but I love that accent, whatever it is.

“Sorry to bother you sir.” Artifae said,tensing his body entirely.

The captain looked at the strange boy, clearly confused.

“What is it?”

Artie hesitated, his hands dropping in front of him, and fidgeting between themselves.

“Could...could I have a word with you sir?” Artie said, looking past the captain into the night sky. “Privately?”

The captain sighed, unimpressed, but opened the door anyway, leaving it open for Artie to follow, who did so eagerly. The room was far darker than anywhere else on the ship, having no brazier or lantern visible. There were thin strains of smoke wafting towards them. Thin sheets of silk of different colours and patterns had been laid over the windows. Incense had been lit, and white candles had been burned until they were cold, hard bubbled messes that hung over the desks. There were piles of old books and maps slung carelessly around, and in the corner was a modest cot, covered once more by silky concealments. Artie stood inside, the smell of old perfumes reaching towards him, as the captain closed the door behind him with another small sigh. He unbuckled his sickle-sword and placed it carefully by a desk.

“Would you like some wine?” Dhib Albahr asked.

“Sure.” Artie said, clearing his throat. “That would be great, yeah.”

He fidgeted nervously as the captain grabbed two pewter cups on the desk, and reached for a flagon, swirling it around in his hands to measure how much remained, when something caught Artifae's eye. Something was gleaming in the corner, and as he had a double-take, realised it was a magnificent suit of armour, unlike anything he had seen before on a stand in the corner. A grey drape had furled itself around the base, and Artie was compelled to step towards it. It was a gold and silver half-helm, with a chassis, spaulders for the shoulders, bracers, plate-skirt and greaves, but all were ornately designed. The smoulders of light caught themselves on it like tiny stars. He heard a scraping of wood as the captain realised Artie had seen the armour. He clamped the cups down and moved past the long chair, grabbing the drape that had fallen. He hesitated, however, when he saw the wonderment in Artifae's eyes.

“What is this?” He asked the captain.

The captain sighed.

“That's the Armour of Creation.” He said reluctantly.

Light glinted in Artifae's eyes, as he saw the indents and decorations were people. They had simple, gaunt faces, as if they were wearing masks. There were thousands of them along every part of it, but all were different. Artie went to trace his finger along them, but a firm hand grabbed his wrist, and he was stayed with a steel look. The captain released his grasp, and Artie dropped his hand, still admiring the art-work. There were ships and sun-rays on the helmet, great monsters and mountains along the spaulders. Battles of tremendous proportions were fought along the plates by the stomach, processions and lofty cities towards the thighs and along the greaves, terrible creatures that consumed the world. Artifae was lost in the world of etched metal, when the captain appeared by his side and handed him a goblet of wine.

“Have you heard of the Jassians?” He asked. “Great conquerors of an ancient line in the Old Age.”

The captain walked around the armour, clasping the cup with both of his hands.

“The Jassians of Cranson Point where an isolated folk, known as a scourge of the Western lands for many thousands of years. This, here, the Armour of Creation, tells their story, from where they came from, to the very first emperor, and its eventual fall.”

Artifae took a sip of his wine. It was drier than any he had tasted before, with a hint of blackberries left behind on his tongue.

“Where did you get this, captain?”

The captain shifted slightly.

“From a trade. I was part of the Kraken's Guild, before procuring The Hunnigan's Glory.”

“You were part of them?” Artie asked, with crimson stained teeth.

The captain nodded.

“I was a registered tradesman. I began in Kingsport, trading seized goods from the customs offices and to auction houses, before I was welcomed as a trader for the guild. The Armour of Creation was seized, and The Hunnigan's Glory was to be auctioned, although it would appear whomever I brought them from had no idea of the true value of either.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Artie watched, the sounds of battle and roaring creatures threatening to drown out the voice of the captain.

“So this...Armour of Creation...was brought over before the New Age? Why isn't it in a museum?”

“The captain stood before Artifae, slowly taking a sip of his own wine.

“Twas a collector's item.”

“Was it expensive? It looks like it would cost more than a hundred of these ships.”

The captain nodded sadly.

“The cost was high.” He said, staring into his wine.

He didn't pay for this with money, did he?

“Captain...where are you from?” He asked.

The captain turned his attention back to Artifae.

“Kingsport, Mister Sajaestan.” He said, fitting Artie with a look of swords so fierce, he could only accept it as the truth.

The pink and white glow of the half-moon painted the top-deck and corridor when Artie returned to the infirmary. Sylo Teht was the only one here, sleeping on his side, towards the wall. Artie entered slowly, the captain's wine dizzying his mind slightly. He cleared his throat gently, and the slumbering figure did not move. He tried again.

“Sylo...Sylo Teht?” He said, trying to force his nerves into a whisper.

“That's not my name.” The figure said without moving.

Artie straightened himself up, stepping into the room fully.

“Then who are you?” He said with mock confidence.

“Dankhet. I'm a sailor.” He said curtly.

“What happened to your ship?”

The mountain Eve sighed, rolling over slightly.

“I already told your captain what happened to us. What is this?”

Artifae stepped closer, emboldened now by the wine.

“Because I don't think you're a sailor. I think you're the assassin with silver hands that killed Master Se.” He said bluntly, awaiting the wrath to come.

Slowly, Sylo Teht rolled over to face him, his verdant eyes sparkling in the dark.

“Boy...”

“Just tell me if you are. I need to know.” Artifae said, still bracing himself.

Sylo Teht sat up, turning to meet his stare, his metallic arms glinting in between where the flesh and metal melded. Everything but his eyes and arms were cast in unyielding shadows.

“Who was she to you?” He asked cautiously.

“Nobody.” Artifae admitted. “But she was close to my friend. Uh, my best friend.”

Sylo remained perfectly still.

“I was with the one who killed her. A consumer. We were paid for the job, we did it, he got caught, an' I didn't.”

Artifae brought himself back to the beach with Busco, seeing the terror and the fury in his eyes.

This is it Artie. It's all or nothing now,

“So what? You want an apology now?” Sylo taunted.

The fluids in Artifae's throat froze, preventing any words or air from passing. Sylo Teht swung his legs about out of the bed.

“It was a job, boy. I've had plenty of people seekin' vengeance for the jobs I've completed, an' I'm still here. You want to be the hero? Bring some vengeance on me? Than you're welcome to try. Don't matter to me. I'll kill you, that High-Eve bird you're with, and anybody on this ship who has a problem with that.”

“Who paid you to kill her?” Artifae asked with a fragile voice.

“Part of the contract, boy. Pay for the job, pay for the silence. So what you gon' do, rat me in? 'Cos you won't like it if you do.” He growled, tensing the muscles within his torso, waiting to pounce.

“Bit late for that, I suppose.” Artie said sadly.

Sylo gave him a confused look, and his ears twitched at the slight sound of movement from beyond. He meant to get up, but the captain, Kutja and Ban were already inside. The captain laid a hand on Artifae's shoulder as they watched the two crew members subdue the mountain Eve. He roared in protest, pushing back against the two. He was succeeding, until the inky-black blades sprung out from Ban's wrists once more. He became a reluctant statue, the anger flowing through the bulging veins on his neck. His eyes became pools of hatred, and they were trained on Artifae.

“Bind him, take him in the brig for now.” The captain said calmly.

The two struggled to get the Eve out of the room as he shouted and flailed. The captain turned to Artifae and nodded simply, his eyes beginning to let in drops of understanding and compassion, but it did not dilute the fear that had saturated Artifae's body.

The next night was dark as tar by the time the helms-man had spotted the black masses of land. Throughout the night they allowed the ship drift slowly towards it under a festival of stars. Artifae slept with difficulty knowing that the angry assassin was near where he had seen a great white snake torturing a sailor only days before. His conversations with Taisha Paj and Li Misha had grown to barely whispers, and they soon struggled to get any real talk out of him.

Once we drop him off with some authorities, I'll feel much better. He'll be off the boat, Busco can see him go to prison, then I can go find some treasure, and start having some real adventures.

The sunrise bloomed like rose petals above them as they saw the jungle re-emerge, a long line of dark green hills and impenetrable walls of vegetation. Some rose to cliffs, and some became as black as tar from within. Artifae came to top-side before breakfast and stood with the sailors as they watched the land waiting for them. The Sea-Eve wrinkled his nose next to him.

“Smell that? What is it?”

“Smells like rotten eggs.” Artie said, rolling his nose.

“It's sulphur.” Captain Albahr said from behind them. “Keep an eye out for an estuary.”

There were mountains ahead, almost large tall enough to touch the few grey clouds above. The ship drifted along the coast-line for almost two hours before the Loromas called out from the crow's nest.

“I see it captain!” He said, gliding down to meet them. “An inlet, less than two legua south, I'd say.”

The jungle suddenly ended in a great azure estuary where the river met the sea. There was a sandy cove nearby, lined with large, mossy rocks that slowly escalated into cliffs that adorned the river like tight walls. The Hunnigan's Glory was lucky, the tide was low and the sailing into the inlet was smooth. They weighed anchor at the very breach of the mouth, which had curved slightly to keep them out of sight from any vagabond pirates or thieves. The captain immediately began sorting a scouting party.

“Ban will lead the first sortie. Take a dozen men, I'll stay here with the rest and guard the ship.”

“Aye, cap'n.” The first mate responded. “Any volunteers?”

“Let me go get Ol' Beauty.” Kutja sneered, a devilish glint in his eyes.

Misha volunteered straight-away, but Taisha hesitated.

“I think I'll stay here for now.” She said timidly.

“Come on, where's your sense of adventure?” Misha teased.

“Pfft, she just wants you there to help her grab more treasure for her.” Artie joked, before turning to the captain. “Captain? Do you think I could come along?”

The captain studied him carefully.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.” Ban said.

“Please? I won't do anything stupid, I promise.” Artie asked.

The captain fought against a smile.

“Our Mister Sajaestan here is itching for a chance to prove himself, Ban. Who are we to deny it?”

Artie beamed with glee, but Ban scratched their head irritably.

“Fine.” They said. “You're Kutja's charge, as always.”

“The hell he is.” Kutja muttered, carrying something long and tubular in his hands/

“Do what either he or I says, got it? You do anything to get any of us hurt, you'll be sharing a cell with that Eve.” Ban snapped before turning away.

Artie tried to hide his fear as he was dismissed, passing Kutja to reach the dorm room. The Bronze-Dvergr stopped him with chubby fingers placed firmly onto Artie's chest. Artie could see what was held in his thick hands. It was an especially large revolver, bulky, crafted with panels of bronze and steel. It was almost the size of a rifle, but with a curved wooden grip. It was the speciality of the Bronze-Dvergr, their pride was in crafting mechanical weapons of war, and emblazoned in gold along the Barrell was Ol' Beauty.

“Don' be thinkin' of actin' up over that, alright boy?” He said, half with malice, half with concern. “It's a dangerous place out there, I don't want you doin' anything.”

“What do you mean?” Artifae asked, genuinely confused.

“Any wrong doin's. Anything that's gonna get me killed, or in trouble. Got it?”

Artifae nodded carefully.

“Good lad.” He said, swinging the heavy revolver onto his shoulder.

After grabbing his satchel, emptying it out, and taking his slightly rusted sword, he decided to leave his coat and hat at the ship. Calming his beating heart, he embarked onto one of the two skiffs that were lowered into the water. The breeze was continuous and fresh against the heat of the morning sun. The half-dozen of the crew were mostly silent, focused entirely on what the jungle would have ins tore from them.

“What do you think we're gonna see?” Misha asked him, excitedly.

Artifae shook his head.

“No idea. We'll find out soon enough.”

“You were on Promise Coast for a while. Did you see anything? Monsters, or stuff?”

“No.” Artifae admitted. “Heard plenty of stories.”

“Yeah, me too.” Misha smiled. “I heard someone say there were salamanders out there. Can you believe that? Like something out of a fairy tail. What's next, we're gonna see giraffes?”

A couple of the sailors next to them chuckled, but Artie remained slightly stoic.

“Actually I heard it was Sir Douglas who said that.” He said as a crash of white water hit the boat and dropped spray upon them. “And they fought this great, wolf-like monster. The Mountain Hunter, folks are calling it. And giant spiders ridden by goblins...”

“Goblins? What like Mud-goblins?” The Mud-goblin sailor in front of them asked.

“No I don't think so.”

“Fisher-goblins? Scavvies?” Misha asked.

“No, I think they were more like Consumers, or so they say.”

The whole crew shuddered at the very mention of them.

“Consumers on spiders? X alive, I hope we don't see that.” One of them groaned.

I do. I want to see something.

The skiffs landed in the shallows, and the two boats were brought up onto the shore. The crew relaxed, feeling the heat intensify and the sand proudly beneath their feet. Artie stretched as the crew assembled themselves. There were bits of grey drift wood that had found a permanent home of the yellow sands, and scatterings of stone and rock. Ban assigned two men to guard the boats and walked to where the jungle met the beach. They drew their short sword.

“Single file. Stay close.” They called out.

Artie was somewhere in the middle, with Misha trailing behind him. The jungle immediately closed itself around them, denser even that what had been at Promise Coast. The heat was ruthless, beating them so sweat began to form from after even a few minutes. There were calls and sounds of animals high above them, and constant harassment from flies and mosquitoes. They walked in silence, save for the clanking of their equipment for half an hour, when Ban signalled for them to stop. Artifae saw Kutja turn to speak to him. Although the heat had been hounding Artie, Kutja was drenched in sweat, his face slippery and dripping.

“What is it?” He asked in a dropped voice.

Ban remained still for a few seconds.

“You hear that?” They asked, turning back to the column.

Collectively, the crew grounded themselves, listening to the sounds of the jungle.

“Sounds like runnin' water.” The Sea-eve said.

“That's what I thought.” Ban said.

“Yeah, but we're right next to a river, aren't we?” Artie whispered to Misha, who merely shrugged.

They kept walking in the same direction against the walls of plants and trees, with large rocks and roots striking at their ankles and shins with every chance. Soon, the ground became softer, until suddenly, Ban sunk into their knees in mud. More members of the front did too, and a brief panic set in amongst the group.

“Should we head back?” Kutja asked, as his stumpy legs sank in past the thigh.

Ban looked around, and it became clear the boggy ground was all around them. Trees still grew from this, but began to thin out a little bit, and beyond them, was a clearing, the beating sun rushing to meet them.

“No. Keep going.” Ban said, striding forwards.

Artie waited his turn as the few in front of him hesitantly stepped into the mud and sank. The poor mud-goblin came in past his waist, his strung bow held aloft on skinny arms. Artie sneered just before he stepped in.

“This is like going home for you, isn't it?” He asked with a jovial smile, but the Mud-goblin continued to wade in.

Artie felt the earth grow over his boots and trousers, he slipped and fell forwards, stopping himself with his hands that also threatened to be consumed. He pulled himself upwards as Misha and some of the others laughed at him. His chest, groin and hands were covered in a putrid smelling mud.

“That's what you get.” She sneered.

The trees fanned out until they nearly dissapeared, and the mud grew more intense. Before them, was a canyon, with a couple of small waterfalls feeding out from above and onto what was before them.

“What is that?” Artie asked as Misha stood beside him.

It looked like a great mountain within a canyon. It was a mass of forest at first glance, but as the crew got closer, they saw it was not. It was an enormous pyramid, barely out of contact with surrounding trees that grew here. It appeared to have ten levels, each over ten foot tall, made of mossy stone. The plants and vegetation had besieged the stone, becoming one with it. Every level was a new forest, with speckles of white flowers and fruit among it. The waterfalls dripped, sparkling rainbow colours as they fell, onto the very top of it, which had once been a platform. The water cascaded downwards, leaving trickles and miniature streams. A gigantic set of stairs was barely visible, leading to the very top. The water trailed down each level until it landed on the ground, transforming the area into a vast swamp. By the time Ban was close enough to see the cracks within the first wall, the mud had reached their waist too. The Mud-goblin cast a terrified look around them, not daring to follow forwards.

“Y'know what? I'm gonna check on the boys at the boats, tell 'em what we found.” He said, wading back to where they came from.

Misha and Artie exchanged looks as they walked towards the pyramid with the rest. There was a raised platform before the stairs, made of the same green stone. Ban pulled themselves out, and then the struggling Kutja, and the rest followed.

“This is the ruins then?” Ban asked as Artie pulled himself up.

“Looks like it.”

“This is amazing.” Misha said with genuine awe.

“What is it?” Kutja asked.

Before them was an opening, draped with vines and wisteria flowers. A natural curtain, but beyond it, they could see a long, black corridor.

“Must be Old Age.” Ban speculated. “Maybe older.”

“Older? What's older than the Old Age?” The Sea-Eve said, exhausted.

“The Classical Age, obviously.” Misha said. “If It is from the Classical Age, could be Montecs.”

“Montecs? Where have I heard that before?” Artifae asked.

“Weren't you supposed to be a scholar? You're supposed to know stuff like that.” Misha said mockingly.

Artifae merely shrugged.

“Stick together. We'll have a quick exploration. No touching anything.” They said with a venomous glare.

The crew merely grinned.

“Wait a second.” Artie said, staring at the now mud covered platform they were stood on. “There's something here.”

He looked around and up the endless flight of stairs that lead to the sun itself. There was something on the top platform, almost like a pulpit.

I'm not going up there to see what that it is, but there's something underneath us.

The platform was a perfect circle, covered in grime and moss, but underneath could see there was an engraving in the stone. It was of four cylindrical shapes, and as he crouched closer and wiped away some of the moss, he could see it was a large hand. A few of the others crouched down, but Kutja remained upright, scanning the nearby area, particularly the tops of the canyon for signs of life.

“We shoul'nt be out for too long, Ban.” He warned.

The others barely heard him, as they began to piecing together various body parts.

“Wait a minute.” Misha said, confused. “Why is there a foot next to an ear?”

“There's another foot here next...wait, what is that?” Artie said, blushing as he realised it was a breast.

The face was found, far away from the stairs, a neutral expression painted on her head. Her hair was long and flowing, perhaps a beauty if not for the fact she was decapitated and engraved into stone.

“Is this someone they killed?” Artie asked, standing up.

“The Montecs were known for their sacrificial tendencies, sure.” Ban said.

“Look at her though. She's big.” Misha added.

The engraved figure was indeed larger than most sapient species, the platform itself begin big enough for three of them to lay down, head to toe on, and she filled the majority of the space.

“Myabe it was just big enough for them to see up there.” Artie suggested. “Y'know, use it like a target.”

“Then just start lobbing heads down?” Misha said, laughing.

“No, I don't think that's it.” Ban said seriously.

“Ban.” Kutja said, still dripping with sweat. “We shoul'nt be out here so long.”

“Alright, alright.” They said. “Stay together. No running off.”

Once the crew had made themselves crude torches or lit their lanterns, it didn't take them long to separate, much to Ban's exasperation. The opening vines were cut down, revealing a long hallway. There were numerous more openings, some large, some small. Some had old, dusty skeletons in the corners. There were crude stone beds, all criss-crossed with vines. Misha and Artie wandered along the lifeless old stone, and found a set of stairs, a candle-lit lantern hanging by her waist. They looked at each-other curiously before slowly walking up them. The sounds of steps reverberated around them, as they reached the second level. It was similar to the first level, but the rooms were larger. Stone tables and plinths had been erected, although most were destroyed by now. Artie gripped his sword carefully, but Misha strolled casually with no weapon, her eyes constantly flickering around.

“Don't you think you shoulda brought a weapon or something? What if there's animals here? Or pirates? Or Montecs?”

Misha laughed.

“That's why I've got you to protect me, big boy.”

“Ha-ha.” Artie answered derisively.

“I don't need one. I trained in Isandla. I'll be fine.” She said dismissively.

“Really? I didn't take you for the martial arts type.”

She chuckled.

“My dad insisted on me doing something to protect myself. If it wasn't gonna be joining the Old Order, then that was the next best thing.”

Before she'd barely even finished her sentence, she ran into a large room, calling for Artie, like a magpie spotting a jewel. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, and parts of skeletons were poking out of the rubble. Some were smaller than others. Artie felt his bile begin to bubble as Misha crouched down. In her hands was a filthy bracelet, but as she rubbed at it with her thumb, she saw it was made of gold. Delighted she turned to Artie, grinning with glee. Artie tried to hide his revulsion, and immediately went to helping scavenging. There were old weapons, unlike anything he had seen before, like a cross between a club and a sword or a spear and an axe. Some were dressed in very gaudy beads, and here and there were more pendants and bracelets. He and Misha took what they could, when they heard someone calling.

“That'll be Ban.” She said with a smile. “Come on, let's head back.”

The two walked amongst the ruined corridors with the threads of wind seeping past them. They stepped amongst stones and fragments of bone. The vines were sewn between the stones.

“What do you think happened here?” Artie asked.

Misha merely shrugged.

“Same thing that happened to all of them I guess. You know, the great empires of the Classical Age. They say that when they dissapeared, that's when it collapsed, and the Old Age started. Or something.”

Before they reached the stairs, a gleam of light caught Artifae's attention. He turned sharply, and walked quickly.

“Hey, where are you going?” Misha called out, a taint of fear in her voice.

“Wait a second, I just want to check this out.”

He gripped the sword with both of his sweaty hands. The corridors grew lighter as he reached an open room. More specifically, the roof had been caved in like the other room, but the walls were gone too, the gap leading behidn theis room and towards others that were barely standing. There were less corpses here, and everywhere flies flew in and out. The bodies here were black, presumably from dirt and dust, but were in a less preserved shape than the others they had seen. Artie approached the ruined wall carefully. Outside, the swaying trees and plants waved to him, and he ran his hand along the stone. It wasn't coarse like the rest of the pyramid, it was incredibly smooth, almost like marble. It had been turned black, although there was still a hint of the green stone within it. As Artie lifted his fingers, they were stained with black dust. Her looked back to Misha, whose fear begun to unravel itself. She was no longer looking for treasure, but her eyes kept hinting back towards the staircase.

This wasn't a temple or anything, was it?

Silently, compulsion becoming overwhelming, Artie moved past her, into another corridor, and into another one. It was a maze of rooms and long passageways, and everywhere smaller rooms intersected. These were where most of the skeletons remained. More stone beds and broken personal affects.

“This was a city.” He said, astonished. “This whole place was the entire city.”

Misha remained silent, catching up to him with horror in her eyes. Ban's voice called out again.

“Artie, we should really go.”

He nodded, and the two moved quickly. Large insects scurried from shadow to shadow, and the vines cast shadows like long fingers. A sense of dread carried them now, through one corridor, and then the other, until they finally found the stairs. Their feet hammered down them, so fast they nearly collided with a High-eve sailor about to ascend them.

“Hey, careful.” He said as he was pushed back. “Ban! They're here!”

They followed him to the original corridor, lanterns still lit as the outside light turned grey.

“Good, there you are.” Ban said with a torch in their hand, growing brighter against the darkness. “You seen Kutja?”

The took shook their heads.

“No, we, uh, got lost up there.” Artie admitted, and Ban turned away.

“You guys find anything good?” The High-eve asked. “Look what we found!”

He and his Orkan friend opened their satchels, revealing a very burnt doll,some pieces of a broken clay pot and a small dagger with a simple pattern on the hilt.

“Nice.” Artie said.

“Very cool.” Misha said, hiding her golden bracelets.

“Everyone, on me.” Ban called out from deeper within the corridor.

They followed the torch into the underbelly, through corridors that flowed like veins throughout the city. The darkness swallowed them, the lanterns flickering around the sailor's waists. No flowers or plants survived this far into the pyramid, and the corridors kept going, longer than Artie could have ever fathomed. There was a noise at the end, which Ban began running to. Their light illuminated two figures, Kutja and the Sea-Eve, in front of a huge cylindrical wall. They were struggling trying to open a square shaped door that had been depressed into it.

“What are you doing?” Ban called out.

Kutja didn't respond, his broad knife dug into the gap between the stone. The Sea-Eve was below him, and the crowbar in his hands was dug in to the gaps between it and the wall.

“Almost got it!” The Sea Eve called out.

“Kutja, what are you doing?” Ban asked again.

“Gettin' the...hrrnng...treasure!” He grunted through gritted teeth.

The dim orange lights bared a great green face on the wall, with jagged teeth and horizontal pupils, the paint somehow still surviving as it watched this attempted breach.

“You think it's in there?” Ban asked earnestly.

“If it's gonna be anywhere...it's gonn' be...in...here!”

With a shout, there was a clicking sound, and the stone wall slid back slightly. Seeing this, the two began pushing, and the stone wall began sliding back, and with its opening, came a torrent of skulls. Like a rockslide, they flew out, falling and covering the two in an avalanche. Everyone present called out, panic seeped into the Sea-Eve and Kutja, who tried to escape the cascade of human skulls. They rolled towards Artifae, who was frozen, unable to escape. The rest of the crowd moved back as the deluge continued. Skull shrapnel flew after smashing on the ground. The skulls were brown and black, countless empty eyes staring at them.

“What is this?” Kutja called out, just as the flurry of skulls began to slow, and then stop.

With a cloud of ancient dust, the final skull fell amongst the pile which was scattered around their feet, almost a hundred separate craniums laying on the floor around them.

“Oh good, we found your treasure.” Misha sneered, and was met with a scowl.

“Let's get the Hel out of here.” Ban said, looking into the room of skulls, and saw there were more.

Artie peeked his head into the chamber, and Misha cautiously followed, the lantern by her side glowing the room. There were hundreds more, all stacked around the curved walls, and a huge stack of them were directly in front of them, fallen from the walls. They looked inside, and upwards, seeing that the collection carried on, throughout every single level. Beyond thousands. They took their heads out, both drained of any pigment within their skin. They followed the rest of the crew who had begun quickly marching out.

“A skull room? Are you kidding me?” Misha said angrily.

Artifae was unable to respond. The black walls spiralled and coalesced around them, swirling and melding until hey finally saw the daylight from where they first entered.. The vines and wisteria waited to greet them as they each took desperate breaths while standing on the plaque of the decapitated woman. Artifae looked down at her muddy, dirty separated leg. The grey sky lay above them, and the torches were extinguished.

“What the Hel kind of place is this?” The High-Eve asked.

Artifae looked back at the ancient city. The howls of the dead called out to them.

“Come on, we're leaving.” Ban said, plunging themselves into the mud, and the rest followed.

They marched through the mud and back onto solid ground and waited while Ban tried to find their way, when they heard shouting along the wind. With barely a word, the crew sprung into action, leaping over tree branches, with angry branches that swiped at Artifae's cheeks. The smell of salt water lured them towards the beach, and the golden gleaming light waited for them. The shouting grew louder, and as they reached the coastline, they saw the waiting boats, with more figures than before.

“Captain?” Ban called out, leaping over a log.

As they reached the figures, they saw they were no friends of theirs. The Mud-goblin and the skiff guards were on the ground, bound, as almost twenty figures of various races and sizes were standing over them, weapons drawn and pointed at their vitals. Ban stopped, and the rest came to meet them. Artie swallowed as he saw the sneering group waiting for them.

Oh no.

The weapons were pointed at them.

Pirates!