"HAG OF THE SEAS: Goombah Island"
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dochermesHAG OF THE SEAS: Goombah Island
4/22-4/23/2002
I.
Just after five on a warm misty afternoon, Bane walked along the streets of Sickle Harbor. Studying maps before arriving here, he had seen how the name must have originated. Protruding from the Northern California coast was a strip of land that curved into a semi-circular shape irresistably reminiscent of a sickle complete with handle. For more than a hundred years, boats had docked here and a small town had grown up, just under the size where it would get its own post office.
The Dire Wolf paused next to a hardware store and took in his surroundings with his inevitable wariness. Being suspicious of everyone in a strange place was so deeply ingrained that he could not have dismissed it with any amount of effort. Just over six feet tall, lean and ominous in his all-black outfit, Jeremy Bane was unsettling to anyone who did not know him. The pale grey eyes under dark feral brows watched the townspeople passing by, and the locals walked a little quicker when they saw him. The people in this town were apparently quite normal in appearance and wardrobe, from the three teenage boys sauntering insolently past to the little old lady trudging along holding a plastic shopping bag filled with food. Every one gave him an worried look as he passed.
Being regarded with uneasiness and even alarm did not trouble him. He was used to it and regarded it as useful. Bane moved down the main street, past an old-fashioned barber shop and stopped on the corner. Sitting next to his feet was a ratty black and white cat with a scrap of ribbon tied around its tail. The animal yawned and stretched and sauntered off.
The next block over was taken up by a trolley car that had been painted bronze and made into a diner. A simple blue neon sign on the roof read HOOLIGAN'S. A piece of cardboard in the long grimy window listed prices of items like hot roast beef sandwiches or clam chowder, with a few notable misspellings... 'Omelit with cheese' in particular caught his eye. The Dire Wolf decided this would be as good a place as any to start asking questions.
Inside were some round tables covered with white cloths, with wooden chairs spaced around them. Along the far wall was a counter lined with red leather stools, and behind that was a grill and oven. A refrigerator stood to one side with Post-It notes stuck all over it. Half hidden beside the refrigerator was a bucket of dirty water with a mop in it. Behind the counter, scrubbing a frying pan in a porcelain sink, was a huge hulking brute in white pants and short-sleeved shirt, with an apron tied over his bulging middle. Neither the apron nor anything else in the diner seemed particularly clean. The bare wooden floor had sawdust strewn over its surface.
There was only one other person in the diner, sitting on a stool at the end of the counter and sighing as if his heart was broken. Bane watched him uncertainly. He was middle-aged, quite obese with a round stomach and an equally round red-tinged nose that matched. The man had a short bristly mustache under that nose, slitted brown eyes that seemed almost shut and a mournful expression. From the way he was dressed, he had possessed considerable funds at some point... he was wearing grey striped trousers, dress shoes, a white shirt with a knitted silk tie and a dark grey suit jacket. A derby perched well back on his head.
But, Bane noticed at once, although the clothes had been expensive and tailored at one point, they were old and threadbare. A button was missing on one jacket sleeve. The shoes were scuffed, one had an instep starting to come loose. It had been a while since that shirt had been pressed or laundered. The soft chin and cheeks had two day's worth of stubble. Evidently, this stranger had come into a long run of bad luck. The Dire Wolf walked past him and dropped down on a stool midway up the counter.
Seeing a customer, the cook wiped his hands vigorously on a rag which he threw across one broad shoulder. "Welcome to Hooligan's, buddy. Whatcha want?"
Ravenous as always because of his enhanced metabolism, Bane felt his stomach rumble. "How about a nice thick hamburger? Fries or onion rings, and a glass of iced tea?" he answered.
"Ready in a blink," Hooligan laughed, mashing a thick wad of raw meat together between his mitts and slapping it down on the sizzling grill. A handful of onion rings from a bucket followed.
"Say, Hooligan, you might as well make that two," said the man in the derby. His voice was mellow and cultured. Bane immediately thought that the man sounded educated.
"Yeah?" snorted Hooligan. "What are you gonna use for money, Cadger?"
The man called Cadger turned pleading big brown eyes on the Dire Wolf. "I assure you, I'm expecting a royalty check in the mail. Tuesday at the latest..."
"No problem," Bane said, surprising himself. "Why not. Give my friend whatever he wants, okay?"
"Oh, and some mustard and pickle chips would be a touch of the divine," added the man. "Thank you so much, you will surely be rewarded by fate."
Leaning over, the cook rumbled, "He's a mooch, mister. Cadger'll try to get the fillings out of your teeth if you don't watch him."
Blissfully munching away on the hamburger, Cadger seemed not to hear. Watching the man eat, Bane found himself slightly amused. He had seen addicts react less happily over getting heroin. He himself dug into his own burger, which was greasy but not that bad. The Dire Wolf pushed his plate of onion rings over within reach and Cadger blithely helped himself.
When the food had vanished, Bane took a final sip of the iced tea and said, "Maybe you guys can give me directions. I've come to Sickle Port for a reason. I'm looking for one of the Three Sisters."
He might as well have said he was holding a live hand grenade. Hooligan froze in place and his face went white. Cadger peered forward, his eyes nearly closing again.
After a long moment, the fat man whispered, "Three Sisters?"
"Well, one of them anyway. The Hag of the Seas. I understand she has been known to be in this area." Bane glanced back and forth. "You two seem a little distressed."
"Out," growled Hooligan, slapping a wide flat hand down on the counter. "Right now, OUT!"
"Sure." The Dire Wolf placed more than enough cash on the counter and unhurriedly stood up. As he left the diner, he found Cadger accompanying him. Bane stood outside on the sidewalk and waited expectantly.
"The Hags of the Seas, the Mountain and the Desert," muttered Cadger. "Names not to be lightly spoken in this parts, Mr..?
"My name is Bane. Jeremy Bane. I've already tangled with agents of the Hag of the Mountains and now I find the Hag of the Seas is the only Sister I could get a lead on right now."
"Mr Bane... I dare say I can tell you are a man used to danger. It shows in your eyes and your voice. Perhaps I can introduce you to a local inhabitant of some renown."
"Yeah, who would that be?"
The fat man toyed nervously with his necktie, adjusted his derby and looked around him before answering. "Jake the Peg, the greatest enemy the Hag of the Seas ever had."
II.
The man called Cadger led Bane along a damp pier of planks worn down by generations of feet. Seagulls wheeled overhead with their prehistoric cries, but it was the pair of crows who seemed to be following which troubled Bane. Was it his imagination or were the black birds watching him like spies?
A dozen small fishing boats were tied up along that pier, most with nets spread out on their decks. There was a canoe and an incongruous speedboat marked with the name CASSIUS as well. Two grizzled sailors sat on folding chairs near one boat, playing cards and cursing each other. They gave Cadger a suspicious glance and seemed alarmed at seeing Bane go by.
At the very end of the pier, tethered away from everyone else, floated an odd-looking vessel. Bane did not know much about boats, it was admittedly a weak area in his knowledge he had to correct, but this vessel seemed strange even to him. Twenty-four feet long, it had a cabin up front with a sliding door and a hatch in the center of the deck. Near the hatch was a short mast supporting a mainsail and two smaller triangular sails all connected by a hideously complicated network of tarred ropes. Between the hatch and the cabin stood an old-fashioned wheel with wooden spokes.
The hull was white with dark green trim, freshly painted, and near the prow was written CANOLA SUE in green block letters. The boat itself seemed to be in good repair, as far his inexperienced gaze could tell.
Beside him, Cadger took his arm. "Look! It doth seem our hero is at home."
As Bane watched, the hatch swung open and a wiry little figure clambered up nimbly enough from the hold. He fastened the hatch down securely, then swung around to fix a keen eye on the two men who stood on the pier watching.
Jack the Peg was small, not more than five feet six and maybe a hundred and fifty pounds, but the gnarly muscles on his bare arms stood out vividly enough to suggest startling strengh. In particular, his large bony hands looked as if they could snap rocks. He was wearing deck shoes, white bell-bottoms and a dark blue pullover with short sleeves. A white captain's cap with black bill was jammed firmly down on his head and he had an unlit pipe sticking out from one corner of his mouth.
It was the peg that most drew attention at first, of course. Jack had lost his right leg at the knee and he stood on a plain cylindrical rod of dark wood that was fitted at his stump with a leather cup. Why he did not wear a modern prosthetic in this day and age, Bane could not understand.
Seeing the two near him, Jake the Peg gave a sharp laugh that sounded almost like a dog barking. "Arf, arf, Cadger you old sponge!" he called over. "I bets ya a five spot you've already gotten a free boiger off your friend there!"
"Oh, you wound me, sir. Who am I to refuse the kindness of new friends?" Cadger placed his hand on Bane's shoulder and gestured dramatically. "I say, Jack, would you like to meet Jeremy Bane?"
That caught the old tar's attention. "The Dire Wolf, is he now? Yes, I done hear of you, mister. Tales are you do good work. Come aboard, then, glad I am glad to meet ya."
Bane obligingly stepped up a plain gangplank that slanted down to the pier and stood on the deck of the CANOLA. He shook the offered hand and confirmed that Jack the Peg was immensely strong... perhaps more so than a normal Human should really be. "Can I call you Jack, captain? We haven't been really introduced."
"Sher. John Wester Callagan, known as Jack the Peg for obvious reasons," chuckled the sailor. This close, it was hard to judge the man's age because that face had been weatherbeaten until it looked like old leather. The short-trimmed hair was dark blond going grey, and the eyes were a shiny bright blue that seemed as if they would never need binoculars to see the distance. Jack had a habit of keeping his right eye squinting so it was nearly closed, but he could clearly see from it. Bane wondered what sort of trauma Jack had survived that had left him with a missing right lower leg and a squinting right eye. There were also scars on the sinewy right forearm mostly hidden by an anchor tattoo.
At this point, Cadger timidly interposed, "Well, good fellows, as cheering as it is to see two modern Galahads meet, I fear supper time is drawing upon us. May I ask if-"
Again Jack snorted his distinctive laugh. "Arr, ya needn't beat around the bush there, young feller. Both of ya is welcome at my table. Come on, that's me house right down the street there. And yer in luck, I's got a pot of stew simmering that's more than enough fer all of us."
III.
Jack's house was a tiny one-story construction of white-painted boards with a shingled roof. It only had space for a living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom, with a crawlspace instead of an attic. In the backyard could be seen a well-kept garden. The old sailor escorted Cadger and Bane to the round kitchen table, laid out plates and silverware, then ladled out massive amounts of a steaming hot stew with lots of carrots and onions. He placed an open loaf of rye bread next to it. The stew was delicious and everyone dug in. Moving around with his wooden leg clacking on the tile floor, Jack the Peg popped open bottles of beer for everyone. To be polite, Bane drank his with thanks, even though his longtime tagra tea diet meant his body processed alcohol without feeling any effects.
As the informal meal proceeded, the tough sailor and the Dire Wolf found themselves swapping tales of past exploits. They had many enemies in common. Both had fought the Night Gorillas of Danarak, assassins of the White Web, and minions of Wu Lung. Jack the Peg had never crossed paths with Karl Eldritch or Those Who Remember as Bane had, but he had many exciting and creepy yarns about fighting pirates off Manila, of chases through cannibal islands off the South American coast, of haunted ships and cursed treasure.
Throughout these tales, Cadger concentrated entirely on his plate and two more bottles of beer. He ate more than the other two men combined and seemed ecstatic.
Darkness had fallen while they ate and talked. At nearly eleven, Jack collected the empty bottles and plates, dumped them unceremoniously in the sink and came back to stand regarding the Dire Wolf with more warmth. "Well then there now," he rasped in a gravely voice, "I thinks it am time to speak of weightier matters. The Three Sisters. Come out back, me friends, whilst I enjoy a pipe."
At the rear of the house were three wicker chairs facing the garden. Jack took the middle seat as the full moon rose over the horizon, dark red as a penny. He fiddled with his corncob pipe, stuffed some dried leaves from a leather pouch into the bowl and got it lit. The smoke from that pipe was sharp and minty, smelling fresh and strongly stimulating. Bane recognized the aroma at once.
Tagra! Somehow this mysterious wanderer had obtained the tagra plant thought to exist nowhere except at the Order of Tel Shai. Only once before had Bane found samples of tagra growing in the world. He sniffed the crisp scent and thought he understood a bit about how Jack the Peg had survived so many battles and brawls. Tagra enhanced healing beyond what medical science could explain. It boosted strength and sharpened reflexes. The knights of Tel Shai who lived on a tagra tea diet were neither invulnerable nor immortal, but they were difficult to harm permanently.
Jack saw the strange look Bane was giving him. "I admits I ain't never met a Tel Shai bloke before," the sailor mused. "I thought they was just legend."
"There are only a dozen or so of us in the world at one time," Bane answered. Staring out at the garden, he saw tomatos, squash, some string beans and long rows of a plant with five purple leaves.. Tagra, all right. "We're a rare breed. But Jack, you were going to tell me about the Three Sisters?"
The sailor exhaled a fragrant plume of smoke into the night air. "Old they are, so I hears, older than the trees and the shoreline. Three Sisters, more wicked than sin, more venomous than cobras. The Hag of the Seas, the Hag of the Mountains and the Hag of the Deserts. I hears you tangled with the Hag of the Mountains, Jeremy?"
Bane nodded. "Not directly, I'm afraid. I busted a cult run by the Hag, something called the Daughters of Sunrise. It's broken up now and its leaders in jail or dead but I never came face to face with the Hag of the Mountains herself."
"These are unsettling topics to discuss," interposed Cadger in a shaky voice. "Have you fellows noticed the rain clouds gathering to the west? I dare say cooler weather is approaching."
"Never you mind, me old mate," Jack the Peg muttered. "Jeremy, the Hag of the Seas is an old enemy of mine. Since I was just a green Able-Bodied Seaman as a lad, me and the Hag seemed destined to clash. And now, she has dared strike against me very heart."
"I don't understand," Bane said. "Tell me everything."
The tar tapped out his pipe on the back of his gnarled hand. "Me goil. The woman who is life itself to me, Canola Sue. The Hag of the Seas has dared to take her from her very bed and hold her hostage. On Goombah Island, they wait."
"What?! What are we waiting for? Come on, I'll go with you!" the Dire Wolf said as he jumped to his feet.
"Not until midnight is Goombah Island seen by non-witch eyes," Jack the Peg replied sadly. "And only on a night of the full moon. Like tonight be."
"I'm with you, Jack," Bane said. "I'm ready now."
"Glad am I to hear that," answered the old sailor as he stuck the now cold pipe between his jaws again. "We'll be shovin' off when the clock strikes twelve. We're steering toward an island of Goombahs, where my old rival Bilge Bob and the Hag of the Seas herself with her killing arts await us."
"I can't wait," Bane growled.
IV.
At midnight, there was enough breeze that they cast off from the pier. Thick fog hung low over the Pacific, swirling luminous white in the moonlight. As Bane watched, Cadger bustled about to help with the sails and general small tasks.
"Yer a bit surprised, ey?" said Jack the Peg at the wheel. "Cadger's a right useful man on deck. Many a cruise have the two of us taken."
"Too kind," said the fat man, tipping his fedora with a slight bow.
Staring out to sea, the Dire Wolf gave a start. A low wide island could be seen in the distance where none had been a moment earlier. Dark blue against the sky, one small red smudge showed where a fire seemed to be blazing. "That surprised me," he said.
"Goombah Island, me friend. Hidden by the Veil of black magick from ages past. Only to be seen on nights of a full moon. Tis there we'll find me sweetie and have a few words with the Hag."
"Good." Bane glanced up as he heard something flap overhead. He expected a bat but instead caught sight of three large crows circling them. "Crows at night?"
"Arr, not natural beasts. The Hag can see what they see through their eyes and now she knows we're on our way," the old sailor grumbled.
From their sheaths beneath his sleeves, the Dire Wolf drew his slim throwing daggers. Their silver blades flared up in the gloom as if reflecting a searchlight. The crows squawked in distress and tore off into the distance. Bane stood holding the ancient weapons until their gleam faded down.
"Blow me down," Jack the Peg snorted. "Silver daggers, is it? You come well armed to fight them critters of the night, son."
"Not just silver, but ensalir... silver blessed by the immortal Eldarin," Bane replied. "They're potent against all sorts of spells and nightbeasts." He slid the knives back into their sheaths, hilts facing out for quick draw. "I'm also packing a Smith & Wesson 38 Special, just so you know."
"Could be we'll need it," the sailor, studying the wind and spinning the wheel. "I doesn't use guns meself. Got me a temper, I'd be too quick to be killing folks who maybe doesn't deserve it."
Coming over to stand beside Jack the Peg, Bane asked after a moment, "Isn't 'Goombah' the Italian word for friend or buddy?"
"Ah, that's just what we call the Hag's servants. Nobody knows what they really are. You'll know 'em when you see 'em, fer sure." Speaking back over his shoulder, the sailor said, "Slow us down a mite, Cadger, we'll be in the quay soon enough."
The Dire Wolf studied the approaching island. "This Hag of the Seas? Exactly what can she do? Do you know?"
"Arf arf arf," cackled Jack. "She's full of tricks. I seen her run to a cliff and dive off but suddenly she were a big ol' buzzard flying away. You've seen her crow spies. She's been known to hypnertize folks what ain't on their guard. Some say she's hunnerds of years old, like her Sisters. Oh, and the last time I crossed her path, she had a staff that shot red lightnings."
That made Bane straighten up. "Really? Did it have a green gem on its end?"
"Aye, that's the truth, it did."
"A Darthan blasting wand," Bane said. "She's dangerous, all right. If she's learned some Darthan secrets..."
They drifted into a natural port where the water was deep, right against a rocky shore. Ages ago, much hard labor had built a jetty of stone blocks that extended out sixty feet into the ocean. Jack the Peg swung the CANOLA SUE about, ordered Cadger to lower the anchor and adjusted the sails. The boat came to a standstill within jumping distance of the jetty.
As the old sailor clattered over on his wooden peg to lasso a post on the jetty and fasten his vessel, Jeremy Bane stood on the stern and stared ahead. The island was almost flat, with only a few low hills to break its outline against the sky. As he watched, a vulture bigger than a man swooped down from overhead and landed with a rustle atop one of those hills. Its outline melted and reformed, and the form of a tall thin person wrapped in a long robe loomed up there.
Jack the Peg grunted. "Thar she be. She's a-waitin' for us, boys."
IV.
As the Dire Wolf leaped off the boat onto the damp stone jetty, he felt the silver daggers grow warm on his forearms. There was strong and malevolent gralic sorcery here. Knowing that the Hag of the Seas possessed a Darthan blasting wand worried him more than anything else. Those weapons were major talismans. Getting hold of that wand should be his first priority.
Standing with his good foot up on the railing of the CANOLA, Jack turned back to face Cadger. To his obvious annoyance, the man was munching daintily on a cold pork chop. "How'd yer get that? I thought I put a lock on the pantry! Goddamit, Cadger, try not to eat the sails before we get back!"
The obese man tried unsuccessfully to seem innocent. He did all but whistle and look to one side.
Stepping up on the rail, holding a line with one hand, Jack the Peg hopped over to the jetty as nimbly as could be asked. He had obviously had a lot of practice getting around with that wooden leg. Coming over beside Bane, he fiddled with his unlit pipe and muttered, "Cadgder'll watch me boat. He ain't no fightin' man."
Pointing at the worn path that led from the sparse trees to the jetty, the Dire Wolf said, "Who's this guy?"
They both watched as a huge man, closer to seven feet in height than six and wide enough to hide a normal man behind, lumbered down that path. He wore stained blue bell-bottoms and a dark sweater rolled up to the elbows, revealing massive arms. The man's face was almost concealed between a bristling black beard that seemed to have been seldom trimmed and long greasy black hair that whipped about in the breeze.
"Bilge Bob!" yelled Jack. "Ya scum of the ocean, what's a living man doing in the service of the Hag? Has ya got no self-respeck left at all?" He clenched his fists and took a menacing step forward.
Surprisingly, the giant answered in a low somber voice. "None of our usual brawling today, Jack. I got some bad news fer ya."
That struck the old sailor hard. Jack the Peg lowered his arms and swayed as if he had been struck in the heart. "No... ya can't mean..."
"You better come with me," Bilge Bob said and swung around to thump back up the path into the woods. Bane followed Jack in silence, carrying a sudden cold weight at what he figured the bad news must be and feeling an unaccustomed helplessness.
They trudged through the wet woods to a tiny clearing that had been freshly made, judging by the way brush had been cut and tossed in a pile. A strip of turned-up dirt six feet long was marked at one end by an umarked flat stone stuck upright in the ground.
"It mustn't be true..." whispered Jack the Peg, just before he fell to his knees and started sobbing with spasms that shook his whole body. He bent forward, palms flat on the grave and wept loudly as a child. "Oh dear God, I know I hasn't always been a good man but I tries to do right. How could you take her from me?"
"You'll meet again, Jack," said the big man, dropping a meaty paw on the old sailor's shoulder. "Ya know that. Beyond the sea, there's a shore where old sweethearts wait for us."
Still weeping, Jack took off his captain's cap and wrung it in both hand. "Sue never hurt no one. She wuz takin' care of her old daddy these past five years. It's so wrong."
"You'll meet again," Bilge Bob repeated as he straightened up. "Canola Sue was a good woman. She's in a better place than this sad old world."
Something in the hulking brute's voice rang completely false to Bane. The man's tone, his body language, his facial expression... they were all false. There was glee behind the feigned sorrow. The Dire Wolf suddenly thought he understood. He walked around to the opposite side of the grave from where old Jack was crying as if the heart was being ripped out of him.
Bane got down on one knee, drew one of the silver daggers and leaned forward. Before anyone knew what he was about to do, he drove the point of the blade down into the soft earth, where it stopped short. He moved himself over half a foot to the side and tried again.
"What the HELL ya think yer doing?" screamed Jack the Peg as he scrambled back up onto his feet.
"There's bedrock under five inches of soft dirt," Bane answered. He tried again in a different spot. "Yes. This isn't a real grave, Jack. It's a trick."
The next few seconds were an explosion of furious movement that caught even the Dire Wolf off-guard. Jack the Peg rushed forward and leaped up at Bilge Bob with a flurry of crashing left-right punches that smacked like hammers hitting sides of beef. The giant did not even have a chance to put up his own hands in defense. Although barely half his size, Jack struck in a fury of pure rage and Bilge Bob reeled wildly to fall on his back with a thump.
Blood covered the big man's face from a broken nose and his jaw would never work the same again. Stepping back with his narrow chest heaving, Jack wiped his reddened hands on the back of his trousers and tried to catch his breath.
Impressed despite himself at that attack, Bane brought the captain's cap over and handed it to the old sailor respectfully. Apparently, years of smoking Tagra leaves had given the peglegged tar strength and speed at Kumundu levels.
"That were a cruel trick to play on a man," Jack muttered under his breath. He adjusted the cap on his head and turned to his partner. "Thankew, Jeremy."
"If ever a man deserved a beating, he did," said the Dire Wolf. "It's a vicious game this Hag of the Seas plays."
"Well.. well... we still don't know fer sure that me sweetie is all right," Jack replied, wiping his face with a red handkerchief and then blowing his nose in it with a honk. "But I got a feelin' the Hag is just tryin' to break me before we meet."
Bane gestured up the path that led to the tallest hill on Goombah Island. "I think I'm as eager to meet her now as you are, Jack." He knelt over Bilge Bob's stunned bulk and cut strips off the man's sweater with one of the silver daggers. Carefully, he tied the big sailor's arms and legs together behind him, then gagged the brute. Bane took his time before he was satisfied, then rolled the giant over into brush where he would be half concealed from view.
"He'll keep out of our way for a while and in this climate, exposure won't hurt him," the Dire Wolf explained as he sheathed the dagger up his sleeve again.
"I'd be justerfied to just cold kill 'im for what he done to me," rasped Jack. "But I can't bring meself to do it."
"Neither can I," Bane admitted. "Killing a helpless prisoner was never something I could handle. Maybe it's just as well."
"I reckon." Jack the Peg started loping up the path with grim determination, stiff arms swinging angrily. "Foller me. I believes the Hag's hut is at the highest point of the island. She's got me riled now."
V.
As they made their way uphill through the dark forest, Jack kept mumbling curses under his breath. Following, Bane started hearing suspicious rustling in the bushes and he became even more alert. Not animal noises, he was sure, but they were being trailed. As they stepped out into a clearing under the orange moon, Bane abruptly caught of a glimpse of a pale, mournful face peering out at them from behind a tree fifty yards away. Its dark eyes were shadowed under a protruding brow ledge, and its wide mouth turned down at the corners.
Quick as a conjuring trick, the Smith & Wesson was in Bane's left hand and his arm extended full length as the hammer cocked. But the face was gone.
"Jack..." he whispered. "I saw something watching us."
"Goombahs. They's all around us, mate, can't yer smell 'em?"
The Dire Wolf holstered his gun and sniffed the air. "Yeah. Sort of musky, like an animal."
Pausing in his march, the old sailor reached out to pat his new friend on the shoulder. "Forget the gun, young feller. Bullets just get Goombahs kinda irrikated."
In all his years in the Midnight War, Bane had seldom endured such a nerve-wracking journey as that hike through the moonlit woods. Noises from insects and birds he could not identify echoed all around. Those crows came back to circle them and then flashed off up the hill. Once, the two men froze in place as a black snake long as a man's leg slithered quickly across the path without seeming to notice them. Under his sleeves, the silver daggers were growing uncomfortably hot on Bane's arms.
At the crest of the hill stood a roughly-assembled stone wall standing just over chest height. Within its circle could be seen, not a fortress as Bane had been expecting, but a small crude cottage with light showing yellow in one waxed-paper window. Smoke seeped up into the night from a pipe chimney in the roof.
Piled against one wall were dozens of dry bones. More than one human skull showed. Scraps of rotted clothing were in a loose stack beside them. Stuck in a tree stump by its blade was an axe.
Bane started to move around the wall, but Jack the Peg grabbed him by the arm. "There ain't no gate nor opening," he said. With more agility than anyone might expect considering the wooden leg, the old sailor heaved himself onto the wall to swing over and drop to the other side. Behind him, the Dire Wolf leaped easily up to stand atop the wall. He was deliberately making himself a target in case the Hag had that blasting wand. With his enhanced reflexes and the Trom armor under his clothes, Bane figured he had a better chance of surviving a gralic bolt than Jack would.
The narrow door swung open and light spilled out from inside the cabin. Overhead the crows cawed. Stepping out came a tall gaunt figure wrapped tightly in a black robe that left her bony arms exposed. The Hag was obviously very old. Most of her head was wrapped in a tight black kerchief, but the wrinkled face that was left exposed showed a hooked nose and lantern jaw that almost met. Hateful dark eyes watched them.
To Bane's relief, the ancient witch was not weilding the Darthan blasting wand. They had a chance. He hopped down lightly to stand beside Jack, still ready for some sorcerous attack, hands folded across his chest so he could drawn the silver daggers instantly.
"Helena! Ya demned daughter of the pit," barked the old sailor as he stood his ground. "Hasn't ya done enough wickedness in yer life? I wants me goil!"
"Ehh? Oh, you mean this slut," laughed the Hag. She reached into the open doorway and roughly hauled out a skinny woman in a red dress, tied with both hands behind her and her feet together. The prisoner was thrown roughly to the dirt.
"Oh! OH!" she cried out. "Jack, you're here! Help me." The woman's voice was nasal and unappealing, but the terror in its tone made it compelling. The Hag kicked the bound woman viciously and sent her rolling across the ground to where Jack snatched her up. In an instant, the old sailor had simply yanked the ropes apart as if they were string and was hugging the woman tightly, rocking her back and forth.
"I thought I'd lost yer," he kept repeating. "Me only love, I'd thought I'd lost yer. Oh, Sue."
Stepping past the couple, the Dire Wolf unsheathed his daggers. When she saw the gleam of those blades in the moonlight, the ancient witch gasped and stepped back into the doorway.
"Come no closer," she warned. "Silver or not, I'll slay thee."
"I didn't like that gag with the fake grave," Bane said in a low murderous tone. "What was the point of torturing Jack like that?"
"Torture IS the point." The Hag of the Seas unexpectedly thrust two fingers into her mouth and gave a long piercing whistle. Seemingly out of nowhere, from all directions at once, dozens of the Goombahs shambled forward to surround the three intruders.
VI.
Even now, at close range, Bane had no idea what these creatures were. The Goombahs were long, lanky beings with barrel chests and unusually long arms. Except for fur pieces wrapped around their middle, they were naked and their unhealthy pale skin glistened moistly under the moon. Hairless heads with big jug-ears standing out from the skull, sad brooding eyes and protuding pickle-shaped noses added to the weird effect. They slowly formed a circle and began to advance inward one pace at a time in step.
Every second, more of them seemed to appear. Bane could not guess where they were coming from. The yard within the stone wall was completely packed with them. Automatically, he moved to stand back to back with Jack the Peg, sheltering Canola Sue between them. The Dire Wolf raised one dagger horizontally and one vertically, dug his toes into the damp earth and awaited the attack.
"In a way, I been lookin' forward to this discussion," muttered the old sailor. Standing upright, he reached inside his jersey and pulled out a soft leather tobacco pouch. Grabbing its contents and shoving them in his mouth, he chewed furiously. The crisp minty aroma of Tagra spread in the night air. As Jack swallowed, he seemed to swell up visibly and he tightened his fists until they made popping noises.
Without a signal, the weird creatures lurched forward with hands open to grasp. Bane met them with flashing swirls of the silver daggers that sent them staggering back bleeding thick yellow blood from gaping wounds. He used blurringly fast kicks and elbows when they managed to get too close. Faster than Human, trained in Kumundu for decades, he was a terrible target to attack. As quickly as the Goombahs came within reach of him, they lurched back dead or dying.
But there were so many. More seemed to be appearing from the shadows, faster than they were being killed.
As he whirled and struck in continuous motion, the Dire Wolf caught a glimpse of Jack the Peg. Despite all his training and experience, Bane nearly paused for an instant in astonishment. The small runt of a sailor was throwing tremendous smashing blows with both fists that hurled the Goombahs off the ground entirely. Two of them managed to seize Jack by the arms. He lifted the big creatures up and smashed them against each other to the audible sound of bones breaking.
It has to be the Tagra, Bane thought. Even in that extreme situation, part of his mind wondered why he had never thought to try eating the Tagra leaves. But there was no time to think. The Goombahs were swarming over him, clawing and biting, piling on him in a mass. He lost one dagger as it got stuck in a creature's chest, then he was knocked off his feet. His only thought was a grim determination to make these monsters pay as high a price for his life as possible.
"Come on, come on! There ain't enuff of yas in the world-" yelled Jack the Peg just before he also disappeared under a writhing mass of the pale creatures.
Standing by the cottage, the Hag of the Seas cackled with malicious glee. Her laughter was cut short by a deep crack of thunder at point-blank range that knocked her down. Blindingly bright, red lightning exploded in that yard to blow away Goombahs by the dozens. They were charred and shattered by the blasts, and the gralic force actively chased them as if alive. In an instant, the wailing survivors were scrambling for their lives over the surrounding wall and into the darkness.
Getting up painfully, shoving dead Goombahs off them, Bane and Jack made it to their feet. The old sailor lifted Canola Sue upright and hugged her tightly as she sighed in relief. Having been expecting death in a few seconds, the Dire Wolf reluctantly lowered his knives. His jacket and pants hung in shreds, nearly ripped off entirely, and his face and hands had deep gouges from the creatures' claws.
Looking upward, he caught the silhouette of a huge vulture against the moon. The Hag, escaping. He had not been able to catch either of the Three Sisters he had tangled with so far. Then, as full realization of what had happened just now sank in, he swung around to stare up at the open doorway of the witch's cottage.
Cadger stood there, still holding the Darthan blasting wand. Its green gem steamed as the gralic force dissipated. The fat man had a pleased smirk on his face as he lifted a roasted chicken leg in his other hand to take a delicate nibble.
"I don't believe it..." Bane said as if to himself.
Laughing heartily, still holding his sweetheart, Jack the Peg called up to his friend. "Fer once, I yam glad ya didn't follow orders. Ya left the boat. Even if it wuz just looking for food, ya came to our rescue and I thanks ya."
Cadger tilted his bowler back with the butt of the sorcerous Darthan talisman and took another bite of the chicken leg. "Too kind."
3/15/2017
4/22-4/23/2002
I.
Just after five on a warm misty afternoon, Bane walked along the streets of Sickle Harbor. Studying maps before arriving here, he had seen how the name must have originated. Protruding from the Northern California coast was a strip of land that curved into a semi-circular shape irresistably reminiscent of a sickle complete with handle. For more than a hundred years, boats had docked here and a small town had grown up, just under the size where it would get its own post office.
The Dire Wolf paused next to a hardware store and took in his surroundings with his inevitable wariness. Being suspicious of everyone in a strange place was so deeply ingrained that he could not have dismissed it with any amount of effort. Just over six feet tall, lean and ominous in his all-black outfit, Jeremy Bane was unsettling to anyone who did not know him. The pale grey eyes under dark feral brows watched the townspeople passing by, and the locals walked a little quicker when they saw him. The people in this town were apparently quite normal in appearance and wardrobe, from the three teenage boys sauntering insolently past to the little old lady trudging along holding a plastic shopping bag filled with food. Every one gave him an worried look as he passed.
Being regarded with uneasiness and even alarm did not trouble him. He was used to it and regarded it as useful. Bane moved down the main street, past an old-fashioned barber shop and stopped on the corner. Sitting next to his feet was a ratty black and white cat with a scrap of ribbon tied around its tail. The animal yawned and stretched and sauntered off.
The next block over was taken up by a trolley car that had been painted bronze and made into a diner. A simple blue neon sign on the roof read HOOLIGAN'S. A piece of cardboard in the long grimy window listed prices of items like hot roast beef sandwiches or clam chowder, with a few notable misspellings... 'Omelit with cheese' in particular caught his eye. The Dire Wolf decided this would be as good a place as any to start asking questions.
Inside were some round tables covered with white cloths, with wooden chairs spaced around them. Along the far wall was a counter lined with red leather stools, and behind that was a grill and oven. A refrigerator stood to one side with Post-It notes stuck all over it. Half hidden beside the refrigerator was a bucket of dirty water with a mop in it. Behind the counter, scrubbing a frying pan in a porcelain sink, was a huge hulking brute in white pants and short-sleeved shirt, with an apron tied over his bulging middle. Neither the apron nor anything else in the diner seemed particularly clean. The bare wooden floor had sawdust strewn over its surface.
There was only one other person in the diner, sitting on a stool at the end of the counter and sighing as if his heart was broken. Bane watched him uncertainly. He was middle-aged, quite obese with a round stomach and an equally round red-tinged nose that matched. The man had a short bristly mustache under that nose, slitted brown eyes that seemed almost shut and a mournful expression. From the way he was dressed, he had possessed considerable funds at some point... he was wearing grey striped trousers, dress shoes, a white shirt with a knitted silk tie and a dark grey suit jacket. A derby perched well back on his head.
But, Bane noticed at once, although the clothes had been expensive and tailored at one point, they were old and threadbare. A button was missing on one jacket sleeve. The shoes were scuffed, one had an instep starting to come loose. It had been a while since that shirt had been pressed or laundered. The soft chin and cheeks had two day's worth of stubble. Evidently, this stranger had come into a long run of bad luck. The Dire Wolf walked past him and dropped down on a stool midway up the counter.
Seeing a customer, the cook wiped his hands vigorously on a rag which he threw across one broad shoulder. "Welcome to Hooligan's, buddy. Whatcha want?"
Ravenous as always because of his enhanced metabolism, Bane felt his stomach rumble. "How about a nice thick hamburger? Fries or onion rings, and a glass of iced tea?" he answered.
"Ready in a blink," Hooligan laughed, mashing a thick wad of raw meat together between his mitts and slapping it down on the sizzling grill. A handful of onion rings from a bucket followed.
"Say, Hooligan, you might as well make that two," said the man in the derby. His voice was mellow and cultured. Bane immediately thought that the man sounded educated.
"Yeah?" snorted Hooligan. "What are you gonna use for money, Cadger?"
The man called Cadger turned pleading big brown eyes on the Dire Wolf. "I assure you, I'm expecting a royalty check in the mail. Tuesday at the latest..."
"No problem," Bane said, surprising himself. "Why not. Give my friend whatever he wants, okay?"
"Oh, and some mustard and pickle chips would be a touch of the divine," added the man. "Thank you so much, you will surely be rewarded by fate."
Leaning over, the cook rumbled, "He's a mooch, mister. Cadger'll try to get the fillings out of your teeth if you don't watch him."
Blissfully munching away on the hamburger, Cadger seemed not to hear. Watching the man eat, Bane found himself slightly amused. He had seen addicts react less happily over getting heroin. He himself dug into his own burger, which was greasy but not that bad. The Dire Wolf pushed his plate of onion rings over within reach and Cadger blithely helped himself.
When the food had vanished, Bane took a final sip of the iced tea and said, "Maybe you guys can give me directions. I've come to Sickle Port for a reason. I'm looking for one of the Three Sisters."
He might as well have said he was holding a live hand grenade. Hooligan froze in place and his face went white. Cadger peered forward, his eyes nearly closing again.
After a long moment, the fat man whispered, "Three Sisters?"
"Well, one of them anyway. The Hag of the Seas. I understand she has been known to be in this area." Bane glanced back and forth. "You two seem a little distressed."
"Out," growled Hooligan, slapping a wide flat hand down on the counter. "Right now, OUT!"
"Sure." The Dire Wolf placed more than enough cash on the counter and unhurriedly stood up. As he left the diner, he found Cadger accompanying him. Bane stood outside on the sidewalk and waited expectantly.
"The Hags of the Seas, the Mountain and the Desert," muttered Cadger. "Names not to be lightly spoken in this parts, Mr..?
"My name is Bane. Jeremy Bane. I've already tangled with agents of the Hag of the Mountains and now I find the Hag of the Seas is the only Sister I could get a lead on right now."
"Mr Bane... I dare say I can tell you are a man used to danger. It shows in your eyes and your voice. Perhaps I can introduce you to a local inhabitant of some renown."
"Yeah, who would that be?"
The fat man toyed nervously with his necktie, adjusted his derby and looked around him before answering. "Jake the Peg, the greatest enemy the Hag of the Seas ever had."
II.
The man called Cadger led Bane along a damp pier of planks worn down by generations of feet. Seagulls wheeled overhead with their prehistoric cries, but it was the pair of crows who seemed to be following which troubled Bane. Was it his imagination or were the black birds watching him like spies?
A dozen small fishing boats were tied up along that pier, most with nets spread out on their decks. There was a canoe and an incongruous speedboat marked with the name CASSIUS as well. Two grizzled sailors sat on folding chairs near one boat, playing cards and cursing each other. They gave Cadger a suspicious glance and seemed alarmed at seeing Bane go by.
At the very end of the pier, tethered away from everyone else, floated an odd-looking vessel. Bane did not know much about boats, it was admittedly a weak area in his knowledge he had to correct, but this vessel seemed strange even to him. Twenty-four feet long, it had a cabin up front with a sliding door and a hatch in the center of the deck. Near the hatch was a short mast supporting a mainsail and two smaller triangular sails all connected by a hideously complicated network of tarred ropes. Between the hatch and the cabin stood an old-fashioned wheel with wooden spokes.
The hull was white with dark green trim, freshly painted, and near the prow was written CANOLA SUE in green block letters. The boat itself seemed to be in good repair, as far his inexperienced gaze could tell.
Beside him, Cadger took his arm. "Look! It doth seem our hero is at home."
As Bane watched, the hatch swung open and a wiry little figure clambered up nimbly enough from the hold. He fastened the hatch down securely, then swung around to fix a keen eye on the two men who stood on the pier watching.
Jack the Peg was small, not more than five feet six and maybe a hundred and fifty pounds, but the gnarly muscles on his bare arms stood out vividly enough to suggest startling strengh. In particular, his large bony hands looked as if they could snap rocks. He was wearing deck shoes, white bell-bottoms and a dark blue pullover with short sleeves. A white captain's cap with black bill was jammed firmly down on his head and he had an unlit pipe sticking out from one corner of his mouth.
It was the peg that most drew attention at first, of course. Jack had lost his right leg at the knee and he stood on a plain cylindrical rod of dark wood that was fitted at his stump with a leather cup. Why he did not wear a modern prosthetic in this day and age, Bane could not understand.
Seeing the two near him, Jake the Peg gave a sharp laugh that sounded almost like a dog barking. "Arf, arf, Cadger you old sponge!" he called over. "I bets ya a five spot you've already gotten a free boiger off your friend there!"
"Oh, you wound me, sir. Who am I to refuse the kindness of new friends?" Cadger placed his hand on Bane's shoulder and gestured dramatically. "I say, Jack, would you like to meet Jeremy Bane?"
That caught the old tar's attention. "The Dire Wolf, is he now? Yes, I done hear of you, mister. Tales are you do good work. Come aboard, then, glad I am glad to meet ya."
Bane obligingly stepped up a plain gangplank that slanted down to the pier and stood on the deck of the CANOLA. He shook the offered hand and confirmed that Jack the Peg was immensely strong... perhaps more so than a normal Human should really be. "Can I call you Jack, captain? We haven't been really introduced."
"Sher. John Wester Callagan, known as Jack the Peg for obvious reasons," chuckled the sailor. This close, it was hard to judge the man's age because that face had been weatherbeaten until it looked like old leather. The short-trimmed hair was dark blond going grey, and the eyes were a shiny bright blue that seemed as if they would never need binoculars to see the distance. Jack had a habit of keeping his right eye squinting so it was nearly closed, but he could clearly see from it. Bane wondered what sort of trauma Jack had survived that had left him with a missing right lower leg and a squinting right eye. There were also scars on the sinewy right forearm mostly hidden by an anchor tattoo.
At this point, Cadger timidly interposed, "Well, good fellows, as cheering as it is to see two modern Galahads meet, I fear supper time is drawing upon us. May I ask if-"
Again Jack snorted his distinctive laugh. "Arr, ya needn't beat around the bush there, young feller. Both of ya is welcome at my table. Come on, that's me house right down the street there. And yer in luck, I's got a pot of stew simmering that's more than enough fer all of us."
III.
Jack's house was a tiny one-story construction of white-painted boards with a shingled roof. It only had space for a living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom, with a crawlspace instead of an attic. In the backyard could be seen a well-kept garden. The old sailor escorted Cadger and Bane to the round kitchen table, laid out plates and silverware, then ladled out massive amounts of a steaming hot stew with lots of carrots and onions. He placed an open loaf of rye bread next to it. The stew was delicious and everyone dug in. Moving around with his wooden leg clacking on the tile floor, Jack the Peg popped open bottles of beer for everyone. To be polite, Bane drank his with thanks, even though his longtime tagra tea diet meant his body processed alcohol without feeling any effects.
As the informal meal proceeded, the tough sailor and the Dire Wolf found themselves swapping tales of past exploits. They had many enemies in common. Both had fought the Night Gorillas of Danarak, assassins of the White Web, and minions of Wu Lung. Jack the Peg had never crossed paths with Karl Eldritch or Those Who Remember as Bane had, but he had many exciting and creepy yarns about fighting pirates off Manila, of chases through cannibal islands off the South American coast, of haunted ships and cursed treasure.
Throughout these tales, Cadger concentrated entirely on his plate and two more bottles of beer. He ate more than the other two men combined and seemed ecstatic.
Darkness had fallen while they ate and talked. At nearly eleven, Jack collected the empty bottles and plates, dumped them unceremoniously in the sink and came back to stand regarding the Dire Wolf with more warmth. "Well then there now," he rasped in a gravely voice, "I thinks it am time to speak of weightier matters. The Three Sisters. Come out back, me friends, whilst I enjoy a pipe."
At the rear of the house were three wicker chairs facing the garden. Jack took the middle seat as the full moon rose over the horizon, dark red as a penny. He fiddled with his corncob pipe, stuffed some dried leaves from a leather pouch into the bowl and got it lit. The smoke from that pipe was sharp and minty, smelling fresh and strongly stimulating. Bane recognized the aroma at once.
Tagra! Somehow this mysterious wanderer had obtained the tagra plant thought to exist nowhere except at the Order of Tel Shai. Only once before had Bane found samples of tagra growing in the world. He sniffed the crisp scent and thought he understood a bit about how Jack the Peg had survived so many battles and brawls. Tagra enhanced healing beyond what medical science could explain. It boosted strength and sharpened reflexes. The knights of Tel Shai who lived on a tagra tea diet were neither invulnerable nor immortal, but they were difficult to harm permanently.
Jack saw the strange look Bane was giving him. "I admits I ain't never met a Tel Shai bloke before," the sailor mused. "I thought they was just legend."
"There are only a dozen or so of us in the world at one time," Bane answered. Staring out at the garden, he saw tomatos, squash, some string beans and long rows of a plant with five purple leaves.. Tagra, all right. "We're a rare breed. But Jack, you were going to tell me about the Three Sisters?"
The sailor exhaled a fragrant plume of smoke into the night air. "Old they are, so I hears, older than the trees and the shoreline. Three Sisters, more wicked than sin, more venomous than cobras. The Hag of the Seas, the Hag of the Mountains and the Hag of the Deserts. I hears you tangled with the Hag of the Mountains, Jeremy?"
Bane nodded. "Not directly, I'm afraid. I busted a cult run by the Hag, something called the Daughters of Sunrise. It's broken up now and its leaders in jail or dead but I never came face to face with the Hag of the Mountains herself."
"These are unsettling topics to discuss," interposed Cadger in a shaky voice. "Have you fellows noticed the rain clouds gathering to the west? I dare say cooler weather is approaching."
"Never you mind, me old mate," Jack the Peg muttered. "Jeremy, the Hag of the Seas is an old enemy of mine. Since I was just a green Able-Bodied Seaman as a lad, me and the Hag seemed destined to clash. And now, she has dared strike against me very heart."
"I don't understand," Bane said. "Tell me everything."
The tar tapped out his pipe on the back of his gnarled hand. "Me goil. The woman who is life itself to me, Canola Sue. The Hag of the Seas has dared to take her from her very bed and hold her hostage. On Goombah Island, they wait."
"What?! What are we waiting for? Come on, I'll go with you!" the Dire Wolf said as he jumped to his feet.
"Not until midnight is Goombah Island seen by non-witch eyes," Jack the Peg replied sadly. "And only on a night of the full moon. Like tonight be."
"I'm with you, Jack," Bane said. "I'm ready now."
"Glad am I to hear that," answered the old sailor as he stuck the now cold pipe between his jaws again. "We'll be shovin' off when the clock strikes twelve. We're steering toward an island of Goombahs, where my old rival Bilge Bob and the Hag of the Seas herself with her killing arts await us."
"I can't wait," Bane growled.
IV.
At midnight, there was enough breeze that they cast off from the pier. Thick fog hung low over the Pacific, swirling luminous white in the moonlight. As Bane watched, Cadger bustled about to help with the sails and general small tasks.
"Yer a bit surprised, ey?" said Jack the Peg at the wheel. "Cadger's a right useful man on deck. Many a cruise have the two of us taken."
"Too kind," said the fat man, tipping his fedora with a slight bow.
Staring out to sea, the Dire Wolf gave a start. A low wide island could be seen in the distance where none had been a moment earlier. Dark blue against the sky, one small red smudge showed where a fire seemed to be blazing. "That surprised me," he said.
"Goombah Island, me friend. Hidden by the Veil of black magick from ages past. Only to be seen on nights of a full moon. Tis there we'll find me sweetie and have a few words with the Hag."
"Good." Bane glanced up as he heard something flap overhead. He expected a bat but instead caught sight of three large crows circling them. "Crows at night?"
"Arr, not natural beasts. The Hag can see what they see through their eyes and now she knows we're on our way," the old sailor grumbled.
From their sheaths beneath his sleeves, the Dire Wolf drew his slim throwing daggers. Their silver blades flared up in the gloom as if reflecting a searchlight. The crows squawked in distress and tore off into the distance. Bane stood holding the ancient weapons until their gleam faded down.
"Blow me down," Jack the Peg snorted. "Silver daggers, is it? You come well armed to fight them critters of the night, son."
"Not just silver, but ensalir... silver blessed by the immortal Eldarin," Bane replied. "They're potent against all sorts of spells and nightbeasts." He slid the knives back into their sheaths, hilts facing out for quick draw. "I'm also packing a Smith & Wesson 38 Special, just so you know."
"Could be we'll need it," the sailor, studying the wind and spinning the wheel. "I doesn't use guns meself. Got me a temper, I'd be too quick to be killing folks who maybe doesn't deserve it."
Coming over to stand beside Jack the Peg, Bane asked after a moment, "Isn't 'Goombah' the Italian word for friend or buddy?"
"Ah, that's just what we call the Hag's servants. Nobody knows what they really are. You'll know 'em when you see 'em, fer sure." Speaking back over his shoulder, the sailor said, "Slow us down a mite, Cadger, we'll be in the quay soon enough."
The Dire Wolf studied the approaching island. "This Hag of the Seas? Exactly what can she do? Do you know?"
"Arf arf arf," cackled Jack. "She's full of tricks. I seen her run to a cliff and dive off but suddenly she were a big ol' buzzard flying away. You've seen her crow spies. She's been known to hypnertize folks what ain't on their guard. Some say she's hunnerds of years old, like her Sisters. Oh, and the last time I crossed her path, she had a staff that shot red lightnings."
That made Bane straighten up. "Really? Did it have a green gem on its end?"
"Aye, that's the truth, it did."
"A Darthan blasting wand," Bane said. "She's dangerous, all right. If she's learned some Darthan secrets..."
They drifted into a natural port where the water was deep, right against a rocky shore. Ages ago, much hard labor had built a jetty of stone blocks that extended out sixty feet into the ocean. Jack the Peg swung the CANOLA SUE about, ordered Cadger to lower the anchor and adjusted the sails. The boat came to a standstill within jumping distance of the jetty.
As the old sailor clattered over on his wooden peg to lasso a post on the jetty and fasten his vessel, Jeremy Bane stood on the stern and stared ahead. The island was almost flat, with only a few low hills to break its outline against the sky. As he watched, a vulture bigger than a man swooped down from overhead and landed with a rustle atop one of those hills. Its outline melted and reformed, and the form of a tall thin person wrapped in a long robe loomed up there.
Jack the Peg grunted. "Thar she be. She's a-waitin' for us, boys."
IV.
As the Dire Wolf leaped off the boat onto the damp stone jetty, he felt the silver daggers grow warm on his forearms. There was strong and malevolent gralic sorcery here. Knowing that the Hag of the Seas possessed a Darthan blasting wand worried him more than anything else. Those weapons were major talismans. Getting hold of that wand should be his first priority.
Standing with his good foot up on the railing of the CANOLA, Jack turned back to face Cadger. To his obvious annoyance, the man was munching daintily on a cold pork chop. "How'd yer get that? I thought I put a lock on the pantry! Goddamit, Cadger, try not to eat the sails before we get back!"
The obese man tried unsuccessfully to seem innocent. He did all but whistle and look to one side.
Stepping up on the rail, holding a line with one hand, Jack the Peg hopped over to the jetty as nimbly as could be asked. He had obviously had a lot of practice getting around with that wooden leg. Coming over beside Bane, he fiddled with his unlit pipe and muttered, "Cadgder'll watch me boat. He ain't no fightin' man."
Pointing at the worn path that led from the sparse trees to the jetty, the Dire Wolf said, "Who's this guy?"
They both watched as a huge man, closer to seven feet in height than six and wide enough to hide a normal man behind, lumbered down that path. He wore stained blue bell-bottoms and a dark sweater rolled up to the elbows, revealing massive arms. The man's face was almost concealed between a bristling black beard that seemed to have been seldom trimmed and long greasy black hair that whipped about in the breeze.
"Bilge Bob!" yelled Jack. "Ya scum of the ocean, what's a living man doing in the service of the Hag? Has ya got no self-respeck left at all?" He clenched his fists and took a menacing step forward.
Surprisingly, the giant answered in a low somber voice. "None of our usual brawling today, Jack. I got some bad news fer ya."
That struck the old sailor hard. Jack the Peg lowered his arms and swayed as if he had been struck in the heart. "No... ya can't mean..."
"You better come with me," Bilge Bob said and swung around to thump back up the path into the woods. Bane followed Jack in silence, carrying a sudden cold weight at what he figured the bad news must be and feeling an unaccustomed helplessness.
They trudged through the wet woods to a tiny clearing that had been freshly made, judging by the way brush had been cut and tossed in a pile. A strip of turned-up dirt six feet long was marked at one end by an umarked flat stone stuck upright in the ground.
"It mustn't be true..." whispered Jack the Peg, just before he fell to his knees and started sobbing with spasms that shook his whole body. He bent forward, palms flat on the grave and wept loudly as a child. "Oh dear God, I know I hasn't always been a good man but I tries to do right. How could you take her from me?"
"You'll meet again, Jack," said the big man, dropping a meaty paw on the old sailor's shoulder. "Ya know that. Beyond the sea, there's a shore where old sweethearts wait for us."
Still weeping, Jack took off his captain's cap and wrung it in both hand. "Sue never hurt no one. She wuz takin' care of her old daddy these past five years. It's so wrong."
"You'll meet again," Bilge Bob repeated as he straightened up. "Canola Sue was a good woman. She's in a better place than this sad old world."
Something in the hulking brute's voice rang completely false to Bane. The man's tone, his body language, his facial expression... they were all false. There was glee behind the feigned sorrow. The Dire Wolf suddenly thought he understood. He walked around to the opposite side of the grave from where old Jack was crying as if the heart was being ripped out of him.
Bane got down on one knee, drew one of the silver daggers and leaned forward. Before anyone knew what he was about to do, he drove the point of the blade down into the soft earth, where it stopped short. He moved himself over half a foot to the side and tried again.
"What the HELL ya think yer doing?" screamed Jack the Peg as he scrambled back up onto his feet.
"There's bedrock under five inches of soft dirt," Bane answered. He tried again in a different spot. "Yes. This isn't a real grave, Jack. It's a trick."
The next few seconds were an explosion of furious movement that caught even the Dire Wolf off-guard. Jack the Peg rushed forward and leaped up at Bilge Bob with a flurry of crashing left-right punches that smacked like hammers hitting sides of beef. The giant did not even have a chance to put up his own hands in defense. Although barely half his size, Jack struck in a fury of pure rage and Bilge Bob reeled wildly to fall on his back with a thump.
Blood covered the big man's face from a broken nose and his jaw would never work the same again. Stepping back with his narrow chest heaving, Jack wiped his reddened hands on the back of his trousers and tried to catch his breath.
Impressed despite himself at that attack, Bane brought the captain's cap over and handed it to the old sailor respectfully. Apparently, years of smoking Tagra leaves had given the peglegged tar strength and speed at Kumundu levels.
"That were a cruel trick to play on a man," Jack muttered under his breath. He adjusted the cap on his head and turned to his partner. "Thankew, Jeremy."
"If ever a man deserved a beating, he did," said the Dire Wolf. "It's a vicious game this Hag of the Seas plays."
"Well.. well... we still don't know fer sure that me sweetie is all right," Jack replied, wiping his face with a red handkerchief and then blowing his nose in it with a honk. "But I got a feelin' the Hag is just tryin' to break me before we meet."
Bane gestured up the path that led to the tallest hill on Goombah Island. "I think I'm as eager to meet her now as you are, Jack." He knelt over Bilge Bob's stunned bulk and cut strips off the man's sweater with one of the silver daggers. Carefully, he tied the big sailor's arms and legs together behind him, then gagged the brute. Bane took his time before he was satisfied, then rolled the giant over into brush where he would be half concealed from view.
"He'll keep out of our way for a while and in this climate, exposure won't hurt him," the Dire Wolf explained as he sheathed the dagger up his sleeve again.
"I'd be justerfied to just cold kill 'im for what he done to me," rasped Jack. "But I can't bring meself to do it."
"Neither can I," Bane admitted. "Killing a helpless prisoner was never something I could handle. Maybe it's just as well."
"I reckon." Jack the Peg started loping up the path with grim determination, stiff arms swinging angrily. "Foller me. I believes the Hag's hut is at the highest point of the island. She's got me riled now."
V.
As they made their way uphill through the dark forest, Jack kept mumbling curses under his breath. Following, Bane started hearing suspicious rustling in the bushes and he became even more alert. Not animal noises, he was sure, but they were being trailed. As they stepped out into a clearing under the orange moon, Bane abruptly caught of a glimpse of a pale, mournful face peering out at them from behind a tree fifty yards away. Its dark eyes were shadowed under a protruding brow ledge, and its wide mouth turned down at the corners.
Quick as a conjuring trick, the Smith & Wesson was in Bane's left hand and his arm extended full length as the hammer cocked. But the face was gone.
"Jack..." he whispered. "I saw something watching us."
"Goombahs. They's all around us, mate, can't yer smell 'em?"
The Dire Wolf holstered his gun and sniffed the air. "Yeah. Sort of musky, like an animal."
Pausing in his march, the old sailor reached out to pat his new friend on the shoulder. "Forget the gun, young feller. Bullets just get Goombahs kinda irrikated."
In all his years in the Midnight War, Bane had seldom endured such a nerve-wracking journey as that hike through the moonlit woods. Noises from insects and birds he could not identify echoed all around. Those crows came back to circle them and then flashed off up the hill. Once, the two men froze in place as a black snake long as a man's leg slithered quickly across the path without seeming to notice them. Under his sleeves, the silver daggers were growing uncomfortably hot on Bane's arms.
At the crest of the hill stood a roughly-assembled stone wall standing just over chest height. Within its circle could be seen, not a fortress as Bane had been expecting, but a small crude cottage with light showing yellow in one waxed-paper window. Smoke seeped up into the night from a pipe chimney in the roof.
Piled against one wall were dozens of dry bones. More than one human skull showed. Scraps of rotted clothing were in a loose stack beside them. Stuck in a tree stump by its blade was an axe.
Bane started to move around the wall, but Jack the Peg grabbed him by the arm. "There ain't no gate nor opening," he said. With more agility than anyone might expect considering the wooden leg, the old sailor heaved himself onto the wall to swing over and drop to the other side. Behind him, the Dire Wolf leaped easily up to stand atop the wall. He was deliberately making himself a target in case the Hag had that blasting wand. With his enhanced reflexes and the Trom armor under his clothes, Bane figured he had a better chance of surviving a gralic bolt than Jack would.
The narrow door swung open and light spilled out from inside the cabin. Overhead the crows cawed. Stepping out came a tall gaunt figure wrapped tightly in a black robe that left her bony arms exposed. The Hag was obviously very old. Most of her head was wrapped in a tight black kerchief, but the wrinkled face that was left exposed showed a hooked nose and lantern jaw that almost met. Hateful dark eyes watched them.
To Bane's relief, the ancient witch was not weilding the Darthan blasting wand. They had a chance. He hopped down lightly to stand beside Jack, still ready for some sorcerous attack, hands folded across his chest so he could drawn the silver daggers instantly.
"Helena! Ya demned daughter of the pit," barked the old sailor as he stood his ground. "Hasn't ya done enough wickedness in yer life? I wants me goil!"
"Ehh? Oh, you mean this slut," laughed the Hag. She reached into the open doorway and roughly hauled out a skinny woman in a red dress, tied with both hands behind her and her feet together. The prisoner was thrown roughly to the dirt.
"Oh! OH!" she cried out. "Jack, you're here! Help me." The woman's voice was nasal and unappealing, but the terror in its tone made it compelling. The Hag kicked the bound woman viciously and sent her rolling across the ground to where Jack snatched her up. In an instant, the old sailor had simply yanked the ropes apart as if they were string and was hugging the woman tightly, rocking her back and forth.
"I thought I'd lost yer," he kept repeating. "Me only love, I'd thought I'd lost yer. Oh, Sue."
Stepping past the couple, the Dire Wolf unsheathed his daggers. When she saw the gleam of those blades in the moonlight, the ancient witch gasped and stepped back into the doorway.
"Come no closer," she warned. "Silver or not, I'll slay thee."
"I didn't like that gag with the fake grave," Bane said in a low murderous tone. "What was the point of torturing Jack like that?"
"Torture IS the point." The Hag of the Seas unexpectedly thrust two fingers into her mouth and gave a long piercing whistle. Seemingly out of nowhere, from all directions at once, dozens of the Goombahs shambled forward to surround the three intruders.
VI.
Even now, at close range, Bane had no idea what these creatures were. The Goombahs were long, lanky beings with barrel chests and unusually long arms. Except for fur pieces wrapped around their middle, they were naked and their unhealthy pale skin glistened moistly under the moon. Hairless heads with big jug-ears standing out from the skull, sad brooding eyes and protuding pickle-shaped noses added to the weird effect. They slowly formed a circle and began to advance inward one pace at a time in step.
Every second, more of them seemed to appear. Bane could not guess where they were coming from. The yard within the stone wall was completely packed with them. Automatically, he moved to stand back to back with Jack the Peg, sheltering Canola Sue between them. The Dire Wolf raised one dagger horizontally and one vertically, dug his toes into the damp earth and awaited the attack.
"In a way, I been lookin' forward to this discussion," muttered the old sailor. Standing upright, he reached inside his jersey and pulled out a soft leather tobacco pouch. Grabbing its contents and shoving them in his mouth, he chewed furiously. The crisp minty aroma of Tagra spread in the night air. As Jack swallowed, he seemed to swell up visibly and he tightened his fists until they made popping noises.
Without a signal, the weird creatures lurched forward with hands open to grasp. Bane met them with flashing swirls of the silver daggers that sent them staggering back bleeding thick yellow blood from gaping wounds. He used blurringly fast kicks and elbows when they managed to get too close. Faster than Human, trained in Kumundu for decades, he was a terrible target to attack. As quickly as the Goombahs came within reach of him, they lurched back dead or dying.
But there were so many. More seemed to be appearing from the shadows, faster than they were being killed.
As he whirled and struck in continuous motion, the Dire Wolf caught a glimpse of Jack the Peg. Despite all his training and experience, Bane nearly paused for an instant in astonishment. The small runt of a sailor was throwing tremendous smashing blows with both fists that hurled the Goombahs off the ground entirely. Two of them managed to seize Jack by the arms. He lifted the big creatures up and smashed them against each other to the audible sound of bones breaking.
It has to be the Tagra, Bane thought. Even in that extreme situation, part of his mind wondered why he had never thought to try eating the Tagra leaves. But there was no time to think. The Goombahs were swarming over him, clawing and biting, piling on him in a mass. He lost one dagger as it got stuck in a creature's chest, then he was knocked off his feet. His only thought was a grim determination to make these monsters pay as high a price for his life as possible.
"Come on, come on! There ain't enuff of yas in the world-" yelled Jack the Peg just before he also disappeared under a writhing mass of the pale creatures.
Standing by the cottage, the Hag of the Seas cackled with malicious glee. Her laughter was cut short by a deep crack of thunder at point-blank range that knocked her down. Blindingly bright, red lightning exploded in that yard to blow away Goombahs by the dozens. They were charred and shattered by the blasts, and the gralic force actively chased them as if alive. In an instant, the wailing survivors were scrambling for their lives over the surrounding wall and into the darkness.
Getting up painfully, shoving dead Goombahs off them, Bane and Jack made it to their feet. The old sailor lifted Canola Sue upright and hugged her tightly as she sighed in relief. Having been expecting death in a few seconds, the Dire Wolf reluctantly lowered his knives. His jacket and pants hung in shreds, nearly ripped off entirely, and his face and hands had deep gouges from the creatures' claws.
Looking upward, he caught the silhouette of a huge vulture against the moon. The Hag, escaping. He had not been able to catch either of the Three Sisters he had tangled with so far. Then, as full realization of what had happened just now sank in, he swung around to stare up at the open doorway of the witch's cottage.
Cadger stood there, still holding the Darthan blasting wand. Its green gem steamed as the gralic force dissipated. The fat man had a pleased smirk on his face as he lifted a roasted chicken leg in his other hand to take a delicate nibble.
"I don't believe it..." Bane said as if to himself.
Laughing heartily, still holding his sweetheart, Jack the Peg called up to his friend. "Fer once, I yam glad ya didn't follow orders. Ya left the boat. Even if it wuz just looking for food, ya came to our rescue and I thanks ya."
Cadger tilted his bowler back with the butt of the sorcerous Darthan talisman and took another bite of the chicken leg. "Too kind."
3/15/2017
