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11 – Soul Storm

Upon hearing the Priestess’s words, I crept to the side of the hold and placed an ear against the frigid, antique wood of indeterminable age, and felt pulsing through the beams a strange vibration, similar to that of a submarine, although there was no accompanying pressure as associated with the crushing weight of water.

Then, by hideous degree and pitch, ever rising, as if from a boiling pot, there came a terrible buffeting of noise and sound, a cacophony of thunder, and screeching, the scrape of metal against metal, vapid gurgling, insane tittering, the thrilling rush of whirling wind, wet guttural cries, and most maddening of all – whispers in the dark.

Here I am ashamed to admit my frailty, for I swooned, and fainted, and fell into darkness and heard no more, for the terrible sounds assailing the ship were frightening beyond all mortal reckoning.

When I came to, I found I had been brought up on deck in the hope some fresh air might rouse me. I saw it was day, and that there was a sun, and blue sky and we were sailing peacefully down some wide river or straight towards a city, whose tall, white parapets twisted magnificently upwards in thin, serpentine spirals of impossible opalescence.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The black galleon had come through the realm of the dead intact and without incident, although indication of its dreadful passage still lingered on the ship’s dark hull. Strange scorch marks had been burned into the ship’s gunwales, as if the rails had been peppered or sprayed with a potent acid, or boiling, flaming debris.

Furthermore, the ship had been spattered in a viscous liquid of noxious odour, perhaps a grease or ectoplasm. This the masked slaves were carefully scraping from the sides of the galleon. The material was carefully collected and artfully poured into crystal cruets for preservation, but what sinister purpose was intended for this alien mucus, I never discovered.

Confounded by the markings and liquid, I turned my attention to the main companionway hatch, and nearly swooned a second time – for deep gouges had been savaged upon the thick oaken door, and the wild cuts were grouped in rows of three, as if a lion or other predator had set upon the splintering wood, madly clawing to reach the men inside.