"Final Voyage of the GILDED STALLION"
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dochermes"Final Voyage of the GILDED STALLION"
7/10-7/23/1215 DR
I.
Under a cloudless turquoise sky, above a placid sea the same hue, the wooden plank extended out from the deck of the GILDED STALLION. Romal the Mongrel, his wrists tied behind him with cord, placed a boot on the plank and went no further.
Behind him, forty wildly mismatched seamen howled and roared with laughter. None resembled another. Colorful silk blouses and short breeches, scarf tied around wild greasy hair, low floppy boots of soft leather made a garish clash of every conceivable hue. Many wore gold bracelets or earrings kept for possible use to ransom themselves. Nearly all had wide curved swords thrust through their waistbands or slung on baldrics, and daggers bristled in unlikely straps.
"Ah, I hate to lose yer services, I say," announced Captain Salcedo from directly behind the Mongrel. "The legends are true. Tis strong as a Troll you are, as quick as a Snake man, as cruel as a Dartha. In a boarding party, your hand would be worth five ordinary Humans. But a ship may only have one captain and I trust you not."
Romal turned to fix his sullen gaze upon the crew. Still young, not past his early twenties, Romal seemed to be a normal Human man of good height and with hard muscles made fit through exertion. His blue shirt was in tatters, his black pants not much better. The wide surly face with its dark blue eyes sat beneath a tangled mat of coarse black hair. And his ears were exposed.
It was those ears which marked him. Rising to distinct points like those of the Darthim and Eldarin, they gave away his identity as a unnatural creation of Darthan sorcery. Infused with traits of the Seven Races, there was none like him anywhere on this world.
"I will come back to slay you, Salcedo," Romal replied in a tone that was remarkably unemotional. "I need this ship and its crew."
"Tell it to the crabs on the bottom of the Sea!" the Captain shouted. He gestured and a pirate lowered his pike to prod the prisoner. But Romal had calmly stepped off the edge of the plank and dropped feet first into the water.
"Stay where we are until he is surely drowned," ordered Salcedo. "Tis rare sport when they try to float and kick their legs until strength leaves them."
But beneath the surface, Romal still had a grim smile on his face. On either side of his neck below the jaw, three parallel slits opened. Gills. These were a trait he had been given of the Gelydrim of sunken Ulgor. Bubbles of air escaped from his lungs as the Mongrel inhaled sea water. At the same time, he twisted and convulsed, breaking the thick cords binding his wrists as if they were wet paper. Free and completely at home under the surface, Romal swung around and swam toward the hull of the GILDED STALLION with powerful kicks. The full strength of a grown Troll was packed into his Human sized body. In a few moments, the Mongrel had passed under the vessel, seized a rope hanging down from the hull and wrapped it around one arm.
He could not hear the yells of glee at his apparent death from the pirates on the deck far above, but he could imagine them. In a cold rage, Romal plotted how he would repay them. Lifting his head above the surface, he coughed up water as quietly as he could. When his gills opened, a flap of skin closed off his lungs but some water usually got in. Coughing this out hurt of course, but he had endured far worse in his young life. When the gagging and choking had subsided and he was breathing air again, the Mongrel gripped the rope with both hands.
Since he had the strength of a four hundred pound Troll compressed into a body half that size, Romal scuttled up the length of that rope as if he was being pulled from above. In an instant, he hopped up lightly onto the railing. Water dripping off him, he saw a few heads turn and gape. Then, with a horrified murmur, the crew swung around to face the man they had seen plunge to certain death.
"I call on your Code that you swore your blood oaths to!" roared Romal. "Let your best fighter step forth."
"Never have I seen the like!" snapped the pirate captain. "No mortal Man are you, but some unnatural monstrosity. A Mongrel of the Seven Races indeed."
"Stop such talk, you will hurt my feelings," Romal laughed. He raised both hands and clenched them into hardened dark fists. "My challenge has been cast at your feet. Your crew waits to see your answer."
"So be it. Shambastu, I call on you." Salcedo waved one arm in a flamboyant gesture and a pirate stepped out on the open space of the salt-drenched deck.
A native of Danarak, this Shambastu had the rich dark brown skin and wiry hair, the distinctive hook-nostriled nose of his tribe. Ritual scars formed beads across his forehead. Not much above average height, but broad and musular in his open leather vest and loose trousers, the pirate raised a cutlass and twirled it in an elaborate pattern. The crew murmured in appreciation but drew back from the impending fight.
"As you call on our Code, you know that you must fight with what weapons you carry as you spoke," Salcedo called over. "I have seen Shambastu cleave a man clear through at the hips with a blade."
"At least he will live on in your tales," Romal said as he swung to face the Danarakan.
II.
It was over so quickly that half the crew missed it. As Shambastu swung his cutlass back up behind him for the slash, the Mongrel vaulted forward his full length and crashed a fist squarely into the center of the pirate's nose. The man's face caved in flat with a gush of bright arterial blood, and his body was already dead when it thudded to the deck.
Wresting the sword from a limp hand, Romal whipped it overhead in a shining arc. "And now I am armed. Come forward, one more of you must die!"
After a long moment of heavy silence, Romal cried again, "One more, I say! To prove that was no fluke? What, none among you has bone in his spine? So be it." He wheeled around to face their chief. "Salcedo, step forward, I say."
Mustering his courage, the captain of the GOLDEN STALLION straightened to his full height, thumbs in his belt. "Speak what you will, monster."
"I call on you to swear allegiance to me as your new captain, that you will serve faithfully and diligently as my first mate until I release you. Do you so swear by your god Grelok?"
Salcedo did not reply immediately, then he stiffly sank to one knee and placed the fingertips of his right hand over his heart. "I swear it, by Great Grelok, lest my soul descend to the Sunken Halls where drowned sailors stay imprisoned until the world ends."
"That is a mighty oath," Romal warned.
"Never have I broken it." Salcedo turned to the crew. "Well, dogs, is my word good as if written in iron?"
The pirates murmured assent, two of them moving closer to where the gruesome corpse of the Danarkan still sprawled. Romal faced them, placing his hands on his hips. "Hear me. These are my words. I will release you all after one final quest. Know that I have seen with these eyes the barren isle where King Atilios breathed his last. I know where he and his warlock son Dominos buried deep the court riches they stole when they were exiled from Arenbor."
Hardly a breath was taken. They stared wide-eyed as the Mongrel clapped his hands together. "Aye! One-third for me, two-thirds to be divided among yourselves. Enough gold to gild a palace, enough emeralds and rubies and diamonds to cover a temple. The cursed treasure of King Rossia will be ours."
III.
In the captain's cabin on the foredeck, Romal had rummaged through a trunk of loot and replaced his tattered clothes. He now wore snug knee-length breeches, a white cotton blouse and a short dark jacket with deep pockets. A slim dagger went into a silk sash bound around his waist, but he took no jewelry although pirates typically adorned themselves with gold ornaments for emergencies.
The whole time, his hand was never far from the hilt of his cutlass and he was always positioned to keep an eye on Salcedo. A lifetime with every hand against him had left the Mongrel as wary as any wild beast.
Seated at the round table, chewing listlessly on a slab of dried pork, the former captain had not spoken since they had entered the cabin. Under an oil lantern swinging from a chain, his expression was strangely without rancor. He seemed almost fascinated by the Mongrel.
"So, you can indeed breathe underwater, then? Like a Gelydra?" he asked at last.
"Aye," said Romal. "And I can drink sea water safely as well. There is one more thing you should know about me, Salcedo. I sleep like a man pretending to sleep but expecting attack. No one has taken me by surprise."
"I can believe it. Well, I have sworn my Oath and I must abide it. I will not try to slay you, but you understand I would not grieve if you were meet a sudden end."
Romal gave his short snorting laugh. Seen up close, his features were saturnine and imposing rather than handsome. Thick black brows stayed low over those dark blue eyes, his nose was straight and his lips thin. Few noticed his face, those pointed ears caught everyone's attention.
He lowered himself into the chair facing Salcedo, uncorked a bottle and poured straight rum into a tin mug.
"I will not be claiming this ship forever," the Mongrel announced after draining the mug. "I have plans. There are distant lands I must cross. Once I have the parts of the treasure I need, my intention is to put into a Signarm port and swear captaincy back to you."
"That is unexpected indeed," Salcedo mumbled. "You were not born to be a pirate, Romal. I do not see the signs of the calling in your face. You are meant to wander far and never stay long in any place."
"True words."
"Well then, a solid first mate I will be to you," the former captain said. "My crew may grumble and complain and fix withering gaze upon you from behind, but they fear you greatly."
"As they should!" Romal said. "We shall sleep on different shifts, Salcedo, for both our sakes. Tomorrow at first light, I will inspect the GOLDEN STALLION but from what I have seen, you keep her in good trim and more seaworthy than most."
"My father was a shipwright," the pirate said. "Tell me more of the curse. I hold a dim view of such things, there is usually naught but tall tales about such things."
"I wish that were so in this case." Romal dug through the wooden plate on the table, found a leg of lamb and began devouring it with strong white teeth. At one point, he began chewing bone as easily as if it were meat, which gave Salcedo a start at the crunching noises. "It was Prince Dominos who was the sorcerer," he went on between bites. "He is said to study under the vile Darthan Kjes himself. There is even a tale that Dominos summoned a vision of an actual Sulla Chun, which left him broken and white-haired at the age of four and twenty."
Salcedo had poured his own mug of rum, which he prudently watered down by half. "Surely there are safer treasures to seeK?"
"Both the king and his son have been dead these hundred years," Romal said, licking his fingers. He seemed to find nothing unusual about having eaten the entire lamb leg, bone and gristle and all. "Most of the booty will be mundane gold and jewels. It is the sorcerous artifacts I claim for myself."
The pirate scowled in silence before starting to rise. "You play dangerous games, Mongrel."
"It's the only life I know. Come, First Mate, will you take the next eight hours watch and keep an eye on your crew while I rest?"
"So be it. You will not be disturbed." Salcedo tugged a soft felt hat with a wide brim down over his head against the night chill. "Eight hours it is."
Rising himself and heading over to a canvas hammock hanging against the far wall, Romal could not hide a yawn. "Before this is done, you will be wealthy enough to retire and live in luxury."
"Hah! The pirate's fire is in my heart, Mongrel. Like you, it's the only life I know."
Two weeks passed with consistent winds driving them in the direction Romal ordered. The GOLDEN STALLION was not a large ship but a raider built for speed and agility. Seventy feet long, narrow from port to starboard, two-masted, it had little room for cargo. Many of the crew were skilled archers using the Chujir recurved bow that gave enormous power but only fair accuracy. In trunks and boxes stowed below, many garments both male and female, told of previous slaughters. The crew slept below decks and worked in shifts of twelve hours, excepting the cook who was in the galley day and night.
Romal did not mingle with the crew much. He gave Salcedo instructions and discreetly saw his orders were carried out. In truth, the pirates were uneasy around the dreaded Mongrel. His escape from certain drowning, his killing the redoubtable Danarakan with a single blow and his air of complete confidence made him daunting indeed. When extra hands were needed, he pulled on ropes more powerfully than any three men together. The fact that he drank seawater from a dipper lowered over the side and thrived on it alarmed them all the more.
Spotting a likely lone island green with vegetation, they anchored nearby and half the crew went ashore to refill the water casks and seek fresh food. They returned with baskets of nuts and berries reports of wild fowl. A few archers quickly shot down a dozen of the chicken-like birds to prepare for a feast. More would be cleaned and smoked for storage.
During all this, Romal remained on board, watching the crew suspiciously. Despite Salcedo's assurances, he had no doubt these pirates would maroon him here if they could. The Mongrel gazed to the West, where he thought he barely discerned a low shape on the horizon. Maybe wishful thinking and yet...
That was a night of riotous behavior on the beach, roasting the birds and the nuts, each man granted an extra serving of rum. Bawdy songs and clumsy dancing went on past the midnight, after which half the crew went back aboard to give the others a chance. Salcedo joined the revels, but still Romal remained aloof and stern.
Let them frolic while they may. The pirates seemed willing, even eager to sail another week for the fabulous treasure of the exiled king. But Romal reflected somberly he had not told them of the treasure's guardians.
III.
"A drear and lifeless rock," Salcedo observed as his rowboat drew near.
That is was. Bare dark grey stone rising up to barely clear the surface, marked by rounded boulders but not a single tree or leave of grass, not even a meager nest from some migratory sea bird showed. A single projection of rock like a thumb afforded them enough solidity to tie up the boats beside each other.
In the other rowboat, Romal stood and vaulted lightly up to land on both feet with perfect balance. The crew were getting used to his prowess but it gave them uneasiness rather than admiration. Everyone began clambering up onto the slippery wet island, helping each other. The disembarking took a few minutes and was by no means easy.
"I see no treasure," Salcedo observed mildly.
"There," replied the Mongrel. Barely visible from arm's length, a round iron ring had been driven into the center of the island.
"Draldros' Throne!" cursed the pirate chief. "How could any sane man think he'd find such a tiny spot out in the ocean like this? You could search a lifetime and not espy this pebble in the vastness."
"A warlock like Prince Dominos would be drawn to it," Romal remarked. He watched as a pirate struggled futilely with the iron ring set in the stone, then brushed the man aside. With one hand, the Mongrel pulled and a flat slab rose up to reveal a shallow pit which appeared to have melted out of the granite by some tremendous heat. Within was an oak chest bound with strips of a coppery metal with an oily sheen.
"Gremthom," he muttered. "Dangerous to touch for mortals. Two of you, wrap the handles with a sash or handkerchief and fasten it into a boat. We will open it back aboard the GILDED STALLION."
"Why wait?" asked a pirate before reluctantly adding, "Captain?"
"Sorcerers set traps. Can't you feel the danger?" Romal snapped. "Step quick, load that chest. Salcedo, we must leave now."
The former captain licked his salt-spray dried lips nervously. "Aye. Tis the feeling of eyes upon me I have. Hop to it, men. Now's no time to dawdle."
When only three men remained on the tiny island with Romal, they were visibly afraid. Hands clasped their sword hilts. With a clacking rattle, two dozen huge grey crabs scuttled up over the far side of the isle and rushed right at them. Too large to be held in a man's hands, the creatures swarmed up to cover the pirates in a wave. Agonizing screams rang out into the air.
Romal alone was too quick to be caught that way. He took a single step and leaped far out to plunge down into the ocean near the boats. As he grasped the nearest hull, next to where Salcedo sat on its bench, he yelled, "Pull, damn your black hearts! Back to the ship."
"But our men..."
"They are lost already," the Mongrel told him. "Bend those oars, I say! Do you want those monsters swimming after us to climb up to the deck of the GILDED STALLION?"
IV.
All but the unfortunate three had survived. Crewing the GILDED STALLION would be no problem. As some hauled up the two rowboats and secured them to the outside of the railings, pulling the tarps over as cover, the rest hustled to break open the chest and place the loot in a pile in the center of the deck. In an instant, everyone was bent in awe over the gleaming pile of gold and gems brilliant in the slanting late afternoon sunlight. Salcedo waved for them to keep back for the moment.
Unnoticed in the excitement, Romal lifted a corner of a tarp and slid a bundle wrapped in oiled cloth into the nearest rowboat. Moving over to the crew, he raised his voice. "We will mourn our fallen once we are safely at sea!"
"Of course." "Quite right." "Time for our respects later," came the replies.
"We will cast off briskly enough," the Mongrel said. He bent and thrust a handful of gold Signarm coins into a pocket of his jacket. "This will suffice for me, you men divide the rest. Riches are not my goal. This is!" And he held up a long grey rock banded with red metal strips, dangling from a fine-linked chain.
"A lodestone?" asked Salcedo. "They are rare but not that uncommon. Why is that so valuable to you, Mongrel?"
"It is bound with Gremthom metal and ensorcelled by dark Darthan sorcery," Romal spat as he hung the rock around his neck. "Believe me, you men are better off not being soiled by the wizardry of Maroch. And now, First Mate, get this ship asea and away from that haunted island!"
As if eagerly awaiting the order, Salcedo began barking instructions. "All hands to stations! Up anchor, hop lively." Men strained to work the winch which drew up the hooked anchor, others rushed to trim the sails and turn the GOLDEN STALLION to the stiff breeze. Salcedo also commanded two men to bring up empty chests from below to stow away the treasure.
Watching with arms folded across his hard chest, Romal the Mongrel kept his face unreadable. "Those were not easy deaths the men found, Salcedo."
"Aye, tis true," the pirate agreed. "But quick or painful, death always ends the same. Tell me, Mongrel, is that mystic talisman the real reason why you commandeered this craft?"
"This points not north, but toward gralic sorcery. It will lead me to whatever Darthim are nearby."
"And you hate them so much that you hunt them?"
"They made me the way I am," Romal growled with a tinge deeper than a normal Human voice. "Especially Tollinor Kje! I will not share the same sky he walks under."
"Beware!" screamed a voice from up on the prow. "Some great shape approaching!"
"Another ship?"
"Nay, beneath the water. A whale? A great serpent? It rushes towards us!" shouted the panicky voice.
Peering from where he stood unmoving, Romal said, "It is red in color. An Obanchu. The island's final guardian."
"Obanchu?! Grelok prepare our resting places!" Salcedo shouted, "Archers, string your bows! Loose volleys as soon as you spy the beast."
A huge crimson hump as long as their ship heaved up to crest the surface. A single dark gleaming eye swiveled to glare at them with sentient hatred. Rarely encountered, thought to be most to be merely sailor's folly, the Obanchu were the stuff of nightmares. One or two shipwreck survivors lived long enough to describe the monstrosity's attack before dying of shock and terror.
As the pirates bent the bows and sent dozens of long shafts whizzing at the nearing hulk, Romal calmly remained by one of the lifeboats up on the other side of the deck, his cutlass ready.
Rushing upward from the dimly seen hulk, a rubbery tentacle thicker than a man's body flung itself to wrap around the main mast and snap it with a shower of fragments. Other tentacles snaked across the deck to encircle screaming men, crushing and rending them with irresistable strength. Pirates hacked with their swords but could not inflict any damage on the tough red hide.
One tentacle held itself upright as if it could see, its round suckers opening and closing ravenously. Salcedo stood his ground, still yelling orders as that dreadful limb slapped him off the deck entirely.
Unnoticed in the horror, Romal slashed through the ropes holding the rowboat, which fell down to splash next to the ship without capsizing. He sprang up over the railing and dove neatly down to hit the water within reach of the boat. In a single movement, he scrambled aboard and pulled on the oars as no three normal could match. The rowboat sped away from the carnage, heading out to sea.
Quickly as he forced the little boat skimming along, he barely escaped the undertow when the GILDED STALLION upended and went down. Few of the pirates could be seen as mere bobbing heads in the churning water. Those tentacles had dragged them down into the huge dark parrot's beak of the Obanchu's maw. The great beast was occupied with snatching up each morsel.
When he was entirely out of sight of the massacre, Romal lowered the oars and caught his breath. His chest heaved for long moments. Even for him, that had been exertion. The Mongrel cocked his head and listened but no hint of the final fate of the GILDED STALLION reached him. He felt only a faint twinge at the crew's fate. They had been pirates, hardened by slaughtering peaceful merchants and raiding farming villages. Torture, rape and terror had been their diversions which had made them roar with laughter. No, he felt no grief at their passing. But then, who would mourn his own death when it came? There was no other like him, he was unique and alone in the world.
Resting by his feet was the oiled cloth package he had filled with dried beef and some orange yams. He had not been entirly sure an Obanchu would appear by the island but hints in an old map had guided him to prudence. Since Romal was content drinking salt water and could in fact had traveled back to Signarm without the rowboat if needed, he was sure of his survival.
Enough gold coins filled his jacket to purchase a good horse, to find him lodging when he stole ashore the next dark night. Most importantly, he had claimed the mystic lodestone which would guide him to his most hated enemies. Romal noted the sun setting to his left and began to work the oars again. Once the stars came out, he could fix his location more accurately.
One final time, Romal the Mongrel stared back at the calm horizon where the GILDED STALLION had sailed its last. Not a single pirate had survived to ever tell the tale. It was only one more dark secret he would keep silent to himself.
1/22/2021
7/10-7/23/1215 DR
I.
Under a cloudless turquoise sky, above a placid sea the same hue, the wooden plank extended out from the deck of the GILDED STALLION. Romal the Mongrel, his wrists tied behind him with cord, placed a boot on the plank and went no further.
Behind him, forty wildly mismatched seamen howled and roared with laughter. None resembled another. Colorful silk blouses and short breeches, scarf tied around wild greasy hair, low floppy boots of soft leather made a garish clash of every conceivable hue. Many wore gold bracelets or earrings kept for possible use to ransom themselves. Nearly all had wide curved swords thrust through their waistbands or slung on baldrics, and daggers bristled in unlikely straps.
"Ah, I hate to lose yer services, I say," announced Captain Salcedo from directly behind the Mongrel. "The legends are true. Tis strong as a Troll you are, as quick as a Snake man, as cruel as a Dartha. In a boarding party, your hand would be worth five ordinary Humans. But a ship may only have one captain and I trust you not."
Romal turned to fix his sullen gaze upon the crew. Still young, not past his early twenties, Romal seemed to be a normal Human man of good height and with hard muscles made fit through exertion. His blue shirt was in tatters, his black pants not much better. The wide surly face with its dark blue eyes sat beneath a tangled mat of coarse black hair. And his ears were exposed.
It was those ears which marked him. Rising to distinct points like those of the Darthim and Eldarin, they gave away his identity as a unnatural creation of Darthan sorcery. Infused with traits of the Seven Races, there was none like him anywhere on this world.
"I will come back to slay you, Salcedo," Romal replied in a tone that was remarkably unemotional. "I need this ship and its crew."
"Tell it to the crabs on the bottom of the Sea!" the Captain shouted. He gestured and a pirate lowered his pike to prod the prisoner. But Romal had calmly stepped off the edge of the plank and dropped feet first into the water.
"Stay where we are until he is surely drowned," ordered Salcedo. "Tis rare sport when they try to float and kick their legs until strength leaves them."
But beneath the surface, Romal still had a grim smile on his face. On either side of his neck below the jaw, three parallel slits opened. Gills. These were a trait he had been given of the Gelydrim of sunken Ulgor. Bubbles of air escaped from his lungs as the Mongrel inhaled sea water. At the same time, he twisted and convulsed, breaking the thick cords binding his wrists as if they were wet paper. Free and completely at home under the surface, Romal swung around and swam toward the hull of the GILDED STALLION with powerful kicks. The full strength of a grown Troll was packed into his Human sized body. In a few moments, the Mongrel had passed under the vessel, seized a rope hanging down from the hull and wrapped it around one arm.
He could not hear the yells of glee at his apparent death from the pirates on the deck far above, but he could imagine them. In a cold rage, Romal plotted how he would repay them. Lifting his head above the surface, he coughed up water as quietly as he could. When his gills opened, a flap of skin closed off his lungs but some water usually got in. Coughing this out hurt of course, but he had endured far worse in his young life. When the gagging and choking had subsided and he was breathing air again, the Mongrel gripped the rope with both hands.
Since he had the strength of a four hundred pound Troll compressed into a body half that size, Romal scuttled up the length of that rope as if he was being pulled from above. In an instant, he hopped up lightly onto the railing. Water dripping off him, he saw a few heads turn and gape. Then, with a horrified murmur, the crew swung around to face the man they had seen plunge to certain death.
"I call on your Code that you swore your blood oaths to!" roared Romal. "Let your best fighter step forth."
"Never have I seen the like!" snapped the pirate captain. "No mortal Man are you, but some unnatural monstrosity. A Mongrel of the Seven Races indeed."
"Stop such talk, you will hurt my feelings," Romal laughed. He raised both hands and clenched them into hardened dark fists. "My challenge has been cast at your feet. Your crew waits to see your answer."
"So be it. Shambastu, I call on you." Salcedo waved one arm in a flamboyant gesture and a pirate stepped out on the open space of the salt-drenched deck.
A native of Danarak, this Shambastu had the rich dark brown skin and wiry hair, the distinctive hook-nostriled nose of his tribe. Ritual scars formed beads across his forehead. Not much above average height, but broad and musular in his open leather vest and loose trousers, the pirate raised a cutlass and twirled it in an elaborate pattern. The crew murmured in appreciation but drew back from the impending fight.
"As you call on our Code, you know that you must fight with what weapons you carry as you spoke," Salcedo called over. "I have seen Shambastu cleave a man clear through at the hips with a blade."
"At least he will live on in your tales," Romal said as he swung to face the Danarakan.
II.
It was over so quickly that half the crew missed it. As Shambastu swung his cutlass back up behind him for the slash, the Mongrel vaulted forward his full length and crashed a fist squarely into the center of the pirate's nose. The man's face caved in flat with a gush of bright arterial blood, and his body was already dead when it thudded to the deck.
Wresting the sword from a limp hand, Romal whipped it overhead in a shining arc. "And now I am armed. Come forward, one more of you must die!"
After a long moment of heavy silence, Romal cried again, "One more, I say! To prove that was no fluke? What, none among you has bone in his spine? So be it." He wheeled around to face their chief. "Salcedo, step forward, I say."
Mustering his courage, the captain of the GOLDEN STALLION straightened to his full height, thumbs in his belt. "Speak what you will, monster."
"I call on you to swear allegiance to me as your new captain, that you will serve faithfully and diligently as my first mate until I release you. Do you so swear by your god Grelok?"
Salcedo did not reply immediately, then he stiffly sank to one knee and placed the fingertips of his right hand over his heart. "I swear it, by Great Grelok, lest my soul descend to the Sunken Halls where drowned sailors stay imprisoned until the world ends."
"That is a mighty oath," Romal warned.
"Never have I broken it." Salcedo turned to the crew. "Well, dogs, is my word good as if written in iron?"
The pirates murmured assent, two of them moving closer to where the gruesome corpse of the Danarkan still sprawled. Romal faced them, placing his hands on his hips. "Hear me. These are my words. I will release you all after one final quest. Know that I have seen with these eyes the barren isle where King Atilios breathed his last. I know where he and his warlock son Dominos buried deep the court riches they stole when they were exiled from Arenbor."
Hardly a breath was taken. They stared wide-eyed as the Mongrel clapped his hands together. "Aye! One-third for me, two-thirds to be divided among yourselves. Enough gold to gild a palace, enough emeralds and rubies and diamonds to cover a temple. The cursed treasure of King Rossia will be ours."
III.
In the captain's cabin on the foredeck, Romal had rummaged through a trunk of loot and replaced his tattered clothes. He now wore snug knee-length breeches, a white cotton blouse and a short dark jacket with deep pockets. A slim dagger went into a silk sash bound around his waist, but he took no jewelry although pirates typically adorned themselves with gold ornaments for emergencies.
The whole time, his hand was never far from the hilt of his cutlass and he was always positioned to keep an eye on Salcedo. A lifetime with every hand against him had left the Mongrel as wary as any wild beast.
Seated at the round table, chewing listlessly on a slab of dried pork, the former captain had not spoken since they had entered the cabin. Under an oil lantern swinging from a chain, his expression was strangely without rancor. He seemed almost fascinated by the Mongrel.
"So, you can indeed breathe underwater, then? Like a Gelydra?" he asked at last.
"Aye," said Romal. "And I can drink sea water safely as well. There is one more thing you should know about me, Salcedo. I sleep like a man pretending to sleep but expecting attack. No one has taken me by surprise."
"I can believe it. Well, I have sworn my Oath and I must abide it. I will not try to slay you, but you understand I would not grieve if you were meet a sudden end."
Romal gave his short snorting laugh. Seen up close, his features were saturnine and imposing rather than handsome. Thick black brows stayed low over those dark blue eyes, his nose was straight and his lips thin. Few noticed his face, those pointed ears caught everyone's attention.
He lowered himself into the chair facing Salcedo, uncorked a bottle and poured straight rum into a tin mug.
"I will not be claiming this ship forever," the Mongrel announced after draining the mug. "I have plans. There are distant lands I must cross. Once I have the parts of the treasure I need, my intention is to put into a Signarm port and swear captaincy back to you."
"That is unexpected indeed," Salcedo mumbled. "You were not born to be a pirate, Romal. I do not see the signs of the calling in your face. You are meant to wander far and never stay long in any place."
"True words."
"Well then, a solid first mate I will be to you," the former captain said. "My crew may grumble and complain and fix withering gaze upon you from behind, but they fear you greatly."
"As they should!" Romal said. "We shall sleep on different shifts, Salcedo, for both our sakes. Tomorrow at first light, I will inspect the GOLDEN STALLION but from what I have seen, you keep her in good trim and more seaworthy than most."
"My father was a shipwright," the pirate said. "Tell me more of the curse. I hold a dim view of such things, there is usually naught but tall tales about such things."
"I wish that were so in this case." Romal dug through the wooden plate on the table, found a leg of lamb and began devouring it with strong white teeth. At one point, he began chewing bone as easily as if it were meat, which gave Salcedo a start at the crunching noises. "It was Prince Dominos who was the sorcerer," he went on between bites. "He is said to study under the vile Darthan Kjes himself. There is even a tale that Dominos summoned a vision of an actual Sulla Chun, which left him broken and white-haired at the age of four and twenty."
Salcedo had poured his own mug of rum, which he prudently watered down by half. "Surely there are safer treasures to seeK?"
"Both the king and his son have been dead these hundred years," Romal said, licking his fingers. He seemed to find nothing unusual about having eaten the entire lamb leg, bone and gristle and all. "Most of the booty will be mundane gold and jewels. It is the sorcerous artifacts I claim for myself."
The pirate scowled in silence before starting to rise. "You play dangerous games, Mongrel."
"It's the only life I know. Come, First Mate, will you take the next eight hours watch and keep an eye on your crew while I rest?"
"So be it. You will not be disturbed." Salcedo tugged a soft felt hat with a wide brim down over his head against the night chill. "Eight hours it is."
Rising himself and heading over to a canvas hammock hanging against the far wall, Romal could not hide a yawn. "Before this is done, you will be wealthy enough to retire and live in luxury."
"Hah! The pirate's fire is in my heart, Mongrel. Like you, it's the only life I know."
Two weeks passed with consistent winds driving them in the direction Romal ordered. The GOLDEN STALLION was not a large ship but a raider built for speed and agility. Seventy feet long, narrow from port to starboard, two-masted, it had little room for cargo. Many of the crew were skilled archers using the Chujir recurved bow that gave enormous power but only fair accuracy. In trunks and boxes stowed below, many garments both male and female, told of previous slaughters. The crew slept below decks and worked in shifts of twelve hours, excepting the cook who was in the galley day and night.
Romal did not mingle with the crew much. He gave Salcedo instructions and discreetly saw his orders were carried out. In truth, the pirates were uneasy around the dreaded Mongrel. His escape from certain drowning, his killing the redoubtable Danarakan with a single blow and his air of complete confidence made him daunting indeed. When extra hands were needed, he pulled on ropes more powerfully than any three men together. The fact that he drank seawater from a dipper lowered over the side and thrived on it alarmed them all the more.
Spotting a likely lone island green with vegetation, they anchored nearby and half the crew went ashore to refill the water casks and seek fresh food. They returned with baskets of nuts and berries reports of wild fowl. A few archers quickly shot down a dozen of the chicken-like birds to prepare for a feast. More would be cleaned and smoked for storage.
During all this, Romal remained on board, watching the crew suspiciously. Despite Salcedo's assurances, he had no doubt these pirates would maroon him here if they could. The Mongrel gazed to the West, where he thought he barely discerned a low shape on the horizon. Maybe wishful thinking and yet...
That was a night of riotous behavior on the beach, roasting the birds and the nuts, each man granted an extra serving of rum. Bawdy songs and clumsy dancing went on past the midnight, after which half the crew went back aboard to give the others a chance. Salcedo joined the revels, but still Romal remained aloof and stern.
Let them frolic while they may. The pirates seemed willing, even eager to sail another week for the fabulous treasure of the exiled king. But Romal reflected somberly he had not told them of the treasure's guardians.
III.
"A drear and lifeless rock," Salcedo observed as his rowboat drew near.
That is was. Bare dark grey stone rising up to barely clear the surface, marked by rounded boulders but not a single tree or leave of grass, not even a meager nest from some migratory sea bird showed. A single projection of rock like a thumb afforded them enough solidity to tie up the boats beside each other.
In the other rowboat, Romal stood and vaulted lightly up to land on both feet with perfect balance. The crew were getting used to his prowess but it gave them uneasiness rather than admiration. Everyone began clambering up onto the slippery wet island, helping each other. The disembarking took a few minutes and was by no means easy.
"I see no treasure," Salcedo observed mildly.
"There," replied the Mongrel. Barely visible from arm's length, a round iron ring had been driven into the center of the island.
"Draldros' Throne!" cursed the pirate chief. "How could any sane man think he'd find such a tiny spot out in the ocean like this? You could search a lifetime and not espy this pebble in the vastness."
"A warlock like Prince Dominos would be drawn to it," Romal remarked. He watched as a pirate struggled futilely with the iron ring set in the stone, then brushed the man aside. With one hand, the Mongrel pulled and a flat slab rose up to reveal a shallow pit which appeared to have melted out of the granite by some tremendous heat. Within was an oak chest bound with strips of a coppery metal with an oily sheen.
"Gremthom," he muttered. "Dangerous to touch for mortals. Two of you, wrap the handles with a sash or handkerchief and fasten it into a boat. We will open it back aboard the GILDED STALLION."
"Why wait?" asked a pirate before reluctantly adding, "Captain?"
"Sorcerers set traps. Can't you feel the danger?" Romal snapped. "Step quick, load that chest. Salcedo, we must leave now."
The former captain licked his salt-spray dried lips nervously. "Aye. Tis the feeling of eyes upon me I have. Hop to it, men. Now's no time to dawdle."
When only three men remained on the tiny island with Romal, they were visibly afraid. Hands clasped their sword hilts. With a clacking rattle, two dozen huge grey crabs scuttled up over the far side of the isle and rushed right at them. Too large to be held in a man's hands, the creatures swarmed up to cover the pirates in a wave. Agonizing screams rang out into the air.
Romal alone was too quick to be caught that way. He took a single step and leaped far out to plunge down into the ocean near the boats. As he grasped the nearest hull, next to where Salcedo sat on its bench, he yelled, "Pull, damn your black hearts! Back to the ship."
"But our men..."
"They are lost already," the Mongrel told him. "Bend those oars, I say! Do you want those monsters swimming after us to climb up to the deck of the GILDED STALLION?"
IV.
All but the unfortunate three had survived. Crewing the GILDED STALLION would be no problem. As some hauled up the two rowboats and secured them to the outside of the railings, pulling the tarps over as cover, the rest hustled to break open the chest and place the loot in a pile in the center of the deck. In an instant, everyone was bent in awe over the gleaming pile of gold and gems brilliant in the slanting late afternoon sunlight. Salcedo waved for them to keep back for the moment.
Unnoticed in the excitement, Romal lifted a corner of a tarp and slid a bundle wrapped in oiled cloth into the nearest rowboat. Moving over to the crew, he raised his voice. "We will mourn our fallen once we are safely at sea!"
"Of course." "Quite right." "Time for our respects later," came the replies.
"We will cast off briskly enough," the Mongrel said. He bent and thrust a handful of gold Signarm coins into a pocket of his jacket. "This will suffice for me, you men divide the rest. Riches are not my goal. This is!" And he held up a long grey rock banded with red metal strips, dangling from a fine-linked chain.
"A lodestone?" asked Salcedo. "They are rare but not that uncommon. Why is that so valuable to you, Mongrel?"
"It is bound with Gremthom metal and ensorcelled by dark Darthan sorcery," Romal spat as he hung the rock around his neck. "Believe me, you men are better off not being soiled by the wizardry of Maroch. And now, First Mate, get this ship asea and away from that haunted island!"
As if eagerly awaiting the order, Salcedo began barking instructions. "All hands to stations! Up anchor, hop lively." Men strained to work the winch which drew up the hooked anchor, others rushed to trim the sails and turn the GOLDEN STALLION to the stiff breeze. Salcedo also commanded two men to bring up empty chests from below to stow away the treasure.
Watching with arms folded across his hard chest, Romal the Mongrel kept his face unreadable. "Those were not easy deaths the men found, Salcedo."
"Aye, tis true," the pirate agreed. "But quick or painful, death always ends the same. Tell me, Mongrel, is that mystic talisman the real reason why you commandeered this craft?"
"This points not north, but toward gralic sorcery. It will lead me to whatever Darthim are nearby."
"And you hate them so much that you hunt them?"
"They made me the way I am," Romal growled with a tinge deeper than a normal Human voice. "Especially Tollinor Kje! I will not share the same sky he walks under."
"Beware!" screamed a voice from up on the prow. "Some great shape approaching!"
"Another ship?"
"Nay, beneath the water. A whale? A great serpent? It rushes towards us!" shouted the panicky voice.
Peering from where he stood unmoving, Romal said, "It is red in color. An Obanchu. The island's final guardian."
"Obanchu?! Grelok prepare our resting places!" Salcedo shouted, "Archers, string your bows! Loose volleys as soon as you spy the beast."
A huge crimson hump as long as their ship heaved up to crest the surface. A single dark gleaming eye swiveled to glare at them with sentient hatred. Rarely encountered, thought to be most to be merely sailor's folly, the Obanchu were the stuff of nightmares. One or two shipwreck survivors lived long enough to describe the monstrosity's attack before dying of shock and terror.
As the pirates bent the bows and sent dozens of long shafts whizzing at the nearing hulk, Romal calmly remained by one of the lifeboats up on the other side of the deck, his cutlass ready.
Rushing upward from the dimly seen hulk, a rubbery tentacle thicker than a man's body flung itself to wrap around the main mast and snap it with a shower of fragments. Other tentacles snaked across the deck to encircle screaming men, crushing and rending them with irresistable strength. Pirates hacked with their swords but could not inflict any damage on the tough red hide.
One tentacle held itself upright as if it could see, its round suckers opening and closing ravenously. Salcedo stood his ground, still yelling orders as that dreadful limb slapped him off the deck entirely.
Unnoticed in the horror, Romal slashed through the ropes holding the rowboat, which fell down to splash next to the ship without capsizing. He sprang up over the railing and dove neatly down to hit the water within reach of the boat. In a single movement, he scrambled aboard and pulled on the oars as no three normal could match. The rowboat sped away from the carnage, heading out to sea.
Quickly as he forced the little boat skimming along, he barely escaped the undertow when the GILDED STALLION upended and went down. Few of the pirates could be seen as mere bobbing heads in the churning water. Those tentacles had dragged them down into the huge dark parrot's beak of the Obanchu's maw. The great beast was occupied with snatching up each morsel.
When he was entirely out of sight of the massacre, Romal lowered the oars and caught his breath. His chest heaved for long moments. Even for him, that had been exertion. The Mongrel cocked his head and listened but no hint of the final fate of the GILDED STALLION reached him. He felt only a faint twinge at the crew's fate. They had been pirates, hardened by slaughtering peaceful merchants and raiding farming villages. Torture, rape and terror had been their diversions which had made them roar with laughter. No, he felt no grief at their passing. But then, who would mourn his own death when it came? There was no other like him, he was unique and alone in the world.
Resting by his feet was the oiled cloth package he had filled with dried beef and some orange yams. He had not been entirly sure an Obanchu would appear by the island but hints in an old map had guided him to prudence. Since Romal was content drinking salt water and could in fact had traveled back to Signarm without the rowboat if needed, he was sure of his survival.
Enough gold coins filled his jacket to purchase a good horse, to find him lodging when he stole ashore the next dark night. Most importantly, he had claimed the mystic lodestone which would guide him to his most hated enemies. Romal noted the sun setting to his left and began to work the oars again. Once the stars came out, he could fix his location more accurately.
One final time, Romal the Mongrel stared back at the calm horizon where the GILDED STALLION had sailed its last. Not a single pirate had survived to ever tell the tale. It was only one more dark secret he would keep silent to himself.
1/22/2021
