Chapter XIX: Sea Shores and Campfires

Tikinas had to literally be restrained to avoid attacking Menphis once she finally broke free of his shadowbind. Once Captain Kattrina had made it clear she was going to add a new air hole to the first person that made a move to attack anyone else, she had nudged the other Mithra free, shadowbinds being notoriously easy to break free of for everyone except the person caught in it, and not a second later Tikinas was going for the Ranger’s throat. The shot Kattrina fired appeared, to Zealot, much more of an unintentional miss than another warning, and as such, he had maintained his spot peacefully standing where he was. Ayn now held Tikinas by the arm, and Menphis stood a good distance away from her menacing eyes as Kattrina, her deadly hexagun still drawn, eyed the group suspiciously as she held it out, never lowering the barrel.

“Kattrina.” Ayn said, his voice at a steady timbre, “I’ve heard of you. We work for the same – “

“Aye, I know it.” Kattrina interrupted, eyeing Ayn with an untrusting gaze. “I know enough of yer description t’tell that y’be Ayn, th’ Boss’s own true favorite. An’ mebbe y’are, but mebbe y’ain’t. I remember hearin’ about th’ ninja, but none o’ these other scrubs is mentioned in anythin’ I heard ‘bout ye.”

“They are . . . an unfortunate development.” Ayn explained, looking disdainfully towards where Zealot stood with Greyheart. “I assure you they aren’t a regular part of the entourage.”

Kattrina scowled, turning her gun on Menphis, who responded by stretching out his fingers, lowered towards the holster at his side.

“An’ who’s this fool, then? Ye said yer name’s Menphis. That don’t answer much.” Kattrina demanded.

“No idea, he followed us here and attacked us.” Replied Ayn. “Feel free to shoot him.”

“Try it.” Menphis responded, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I’ll have a bullet through your heart before you can even pull the trigger.”

Kattrina let out a growl, clicking the hammer on her hexagun back, and in that same instant Menphis’s own short-handled gun came flying out of his holster. Kattrina bared her teeth as she found herself staring down the barrel of Menphis’s weapon, and the wounded, unshaven man holding it seemed itching to pull the trigger. The two held each other dead in their respective sights, neither giving the other the slightest hint as to whether or not they would make that fatal squeeze or not.

“Ye seem t’have been through a lot, ranger.” Kattrina said warily, “ye c’n barely keep that hand steady.”

“You’re not far enough away that I’d miss,” Menphis replied, “and I only need one shot.”

“True, so . . . “ Kattrina extended her arm straight, the pirate lining her gun up level with Menphis’s head, “what makes this so important t’ye?”

The question hung unanswered for a long moment, and the tide sprayed a blast of icy ocean water across Zealot’s side as his gaze darted back and forth between the two gun-toting strangers in front of him. His long, silver hair hung down wetly in front of his face now, and most of them were beginning to feel the chill of the spray which had been battering them for the better part of an hour now. The tide retreated momentarily, and with a twitch in his eye, Menphis slowly lowered his gun, sliding it back into the holster at his side and shaking his head, not even looking at Kattrina anymore.

“A friend of mine was murdered. I thought these people might have something to do with it. I came down here to check them out, they attacked me.”

“We attacked you?!” Tikinas burst out, a kunai sliding smoothly out into her grasp. “You shot me!”

“Cry me a river.” Menphis shrugged, “I could tell you were going to make a move if I didn’t.”

“Drop it,” Kattrina warned, as Tikinas’s hand flashed back, ready to launch her throwing knife straight between the ranger’s eyes. Tikinas did not lower her arm at first, directing a baleful stare towards Menphis and then Kattrina, but finally let the weapon slide back down as Ayn gave her other arm a tug.

“Ladies, ladies,” Greyheart suddenly chimed in, stepping out from behind Zealot. The Elvaan man, amazingly, was still completely dry, and seemed to be radiating heat. Greyheart, Zealot realized, was using his magic to keep himself from getting damp like the rest of them. He stepped towards Kattrina confidently, scarcely restraining the way he was eyeing her. “We’re letting our tempers flare because of all this water. You both just need some place warm to cuddle up to, am I right?”

“Elvaan, ye’ve got about three seconds ta – “ Kattrina began, but Ayn cut her off.

“Captain,” the thief said, careful not to let go of Tikinas lest blood be spilled, “you command the Sea Horror, right? Is it around?”

“Aye,” Kattrina replied, adjusting the brim of her three-cornered hat with the barrel of her hexagun, “she be about.”

“Listen, that’s the reason these idiots followed me and Tikinas. That unconscious Paladin, who is by far the most useful of the three, needs help, and we can’t give it to her here, plus, I’ll be honest, we just want to get the hell away from here. We’re looking for passage to Norg, and if you can provide it, I’m sure the boss will be indebted.”

“Ha!” Kattrina barked. “Th’ boss ain’t likely t’admit a debt t’anyone f’r any reason. But I see yer point, Ayn, yer tryin’ t’tell me lettin’ you lot on deck won’t go unrewarded. Well,” she said, trailing off a bit, “I’m afraid that’s not as easy as it sounds anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Ayn asked, warily.

Kattrina exhaled slowly, and for the first time, she turned away from the group, her hexagun spinning around on her finger before landing in its holster by her side. She said nothing, and the sound of the ocean spray coming in on the rocks was the only noise for quite awhile as she looked out across the waves, face unreadable. Ayn appeared just about ready to speak again when Kattrina finally broke the silence.

“The Sea Horror, she be a good vessel.” The Captain began, idly kicking a stone out into the foam. “Aye, sound as a stone, she is, and quick as th’ wind. She’s weathered many a storm out on those open seas, and me crew has felled more than one strange ‘n ferocious beast roamin’ th’ waters. A good vessel, aye.”

“Captain,” Zealot cut in, realizing what she was saying, “did something happen to your ship?”

Kattrina let out a laugh, a brief kind of bark that died quickly. The pirate looked down, shaking her head, one of her fangs peeking out from her mouth and overlapping her lower lip. “The Sea Horror? Nay, she be as seaworthy as th’ day her sails were first unfurled. She’s got ‘er anchor weighed a half mile down, ‘n another one a’ the caves ‘round here. I was out scroungin’ fer food when I found you lot screamin.’ The ship be fine.”

“Then what,” Zealot started again, but Kattrina was already continuing.

“When those things came, out fr’m th’ sky, they swarmed all over. Thems in my crew what wasn’t torn apart got cast down inta the kraken’s bed. The Sea Horror . . . she ain’t but a ghost ship now.”

Kattrina sighed, looking wistfully out to the waves, as the others all exchanged a glance, save for Menphis. The ranger only stood with his eyes on the pirate, fingers tapping the handle of his gun with a dead look on his face. Ayn let out a breath in frustration, throwing down Tikinas’s arm, who immediately went for a blade. She no sooner had it in her hand than looked up and found Menphis’s gun already drawn, and pointed at her, though the green-cloaked man still looked forward towards Kattrina. She let out a low growl, but did not release her kunai.

“I had thought that this be it for me, truth told.” Kattrina said, still looking out towards the waves. “I only heard th’ lot of ye carryin’ on such because I was out searchin’ for a good spot t’lay these bones t’ th’ sea. There ain’t much use in th’ world for a pirate what ain’t got no ship, an’ without a crew, that’s what I am.”

Zealot grimaced nervously as the Mithra suddenly turned back around, a glint in her eye and a grin on her face as her hexagon spun around on her finger, and with a sudden slash through the air the dagger at her side was drawn in her free hand. She laughed that harsh, sea-air weathered bark of a laugh again, and cast a sweeping gaze over the contingent of those gathered in the small alcove, the chamber of her weapon spinning and locking into place as she leveled it menacingly forward.

“Little did I suspect, me wanderings would bring me t’my brand-new crew. Ye want t’go t’Norg, ye miserable land-lubbers? Then I suggest ye all start learnin’ how t’trim th’ sails, ‘cause yer th’ newest deckhands a th’ worst scourge e’er t’ sail th’ ocean blue. Fr’m now on, yer werkin’ f’r me, so get yer waterlogged hides in gear, an’ let’s get a move on!”

Ayn, Zealot, Tikinas, and Greyheart all exchanged looks of shock and rising terror as it became clear that they were the new crew of the Sea Horror, and the cackling Mithra in front of them was suddenly very much in charge of their fates.


“You know,” Hubby said, rubbing a whetstone against the edge of his blade, “we really ought to start calling you something else. You know. Considering.”

Demyn looked up at his comrade from the fire he had been staring into. Ever since their daring escape from Buburimu, they had been trekking carefully northward, trying to avoid traveling at night, when the demon patrols were at their largest. Hubby had regaled them with the tale of his narrow brush with death at the hands of the beast which had attacked Mhaura, the battle against demons to help Jinxie escape with the blindfolded Mithra, and how their new ally, Luma, had spotted the duo just in time to save them from the demon attackers which had nearly overrun them. Together, Demyn, Dantrag, Hubby, Luma, and Qwid had managed to make it relatively to safety; or, as safe as the Labyrinth of Onzozo ever was.

The fearsome den of beasts was home to dozens of tales about killer monsters and things of horrible, murderous wrath which would lay low any travelers who ventured too deep into the twisting, catacomb-like tunnels of the maze. Some said there was a torama which could kill a dozen men, others spoke of an old Goblin wizard who wandered the caverns, luring people in with trinkets and then burning them up for soup stock. Some even said that there was a manticore living in the labyrinth that feasted upon human flesh and rested upon a bed made of the bones of his previous meals. Whatever the truth was, be it the tales about enormous mantas or mutant toramas, it was impossible to ignore the fact that the Labyrinth of Onzozo was a dangerous place to be, whoever you were. For the five survivors of Buburimu, however, this had become their only refuge.

“The demons, right.” Dantrag said, roasting a chunk of cockatrice meat over the open flame they had set out, watching its juices glisten against the light. “It really doesn’t make a person feel at ease to be around someone with that as a name these days.”

Demyn scoffed, but gave no response. He didn’t care particularly what people called him; “Demyn” had been a result of his prowess on the battlefield long before the plague which had swept forth from the other realms came down and blighted the land. Luma, standing watch at the mouth of the cavern they had hidden inside, curled up her lip and rolled her eyes upwards thoughtfully, pressing a finger to her mouth as her tail idly swung back and forth.

“Hmmm . . . “she said, pausing to consider her words. “They are right, you know. Doesn’t sound happy. Demon? Bad! I couldn’t trust a demon.”

“She makes a good point, you know.” Qwid spoke, walking over to the fire with his tiny legs, warming his hands against the damp chill the labyrinth provided. “It’s always been pretty sharp before, but I think you’ll find it’s gone slightly out of fashion.”

“Ugh,” Demyn grunted, slamming a newly-fletched arrow into his quiver and setting it down beside his bow, “is this seriously an issue? Are we really talking about this right now?”

“Hey,” Hubby said, as if uncaring, “just trying to let you know how it sounds. If you want to have the same name as the enemy, that’s your – “

“Bongo.” Demyn finally said, exasperated. “I used to be called Bongo. Before I met any of you.”

“Bongo.” Luma replied, rolling it around on her tongue as if trying it out. “Bongo. Bon-go. Bahngo. HA!” She nodded, turning back out towards the cave tunnels around them and nodding. “I approve of it! Bongo it will be.”

“Your name is really Bongo?” Dantrag asked, looking over at his old friend curiously.

“It’s a name, isn’t it?” Bongo responded. “Can we just forget about it?”

“I just thought – “ Dantrag was about to continue, but halted when the sound of something skittering away caught his ear. He turned quickly, and saw that Luma’s nose was twitching and her eyes were wide. She had heard it too, and her hand had gone to her great katana in an instant.

“What? What is it?” Hubby unfolded his arms and leaned forward, looking around cautiously.

Dantrag motioned for silence, his elongated ears probing the cave for more sounds. Distantly, he could hear it. Something moving away from them, rapidly. So rapidly, in fact, that if he could still make out the sound, it meant that it must have been very close indeed when it started running. Dantrag stood up, looking vainly around in the dark for some kind of clue as to what it was, but found only the uninviting depths of Onzozo looking back at him.

“Whataru, er, dammit, what?” Qwid demanded, looking nervous at the sudden shift between the Elvaan and the Mithra.

“Something down here,” Luma responded, “very fast, too.”

“It was here.” Dantrag added, not taking his eyes off of the dark. “It was right on top of us. There’s something in this cave with us . . . and we’re being watched.”