Sailing Ether Tides

Sailing Ether Tides

Ch: 16 Everyone Must Get Stoned

Dannyl’s chain whip ceased its low, threatening rumble, as Amy tackle hugged her uncle; her assault accompanied by a dangerously loud and reverberating squeal of feminine happiness. “Uncle Dannyl!”

The young warrior staggered and shook his head in confusion, as he tried to fend off the giddy young woman’s affections. “Shhh…” He hissed in discomfort. “Weirding module!” He gasped.

“Ohh… sorry, I forgot!” Amy hastily untied the band of black and silver embroidered ribbon at her throat; releasing the remnants of their musical spells into the chaotic background magic of the cavern system.

“I’m fine, darling; just remember to close the set out, once the show is over.” He sighed with relief, as her spells unwound from his Animus and drained away. “So what do we have here?”

Dannyl addressed the kids, rather than their supervising auntie. Ivy watched with a small smile of pleasure on her lips as Amy explained the situation so far.

“The batscorpions got super aggressive and started wandering outside at night… In the fog and darkness, all the locals found were web traces and spider bites on their livestock, so they reported it as a trapdoor.” She murmured happily.

“We found signs of a giant cave crawler, which made sense, that would drive the other creepies closer to the surface. We started tracking it, but these… things were already smushing our prey into goop when we stumbled onto them.”

She paused to reflect for a moment, while Dannyl digested her rapid fire monologue.

“Crystal constructs of some kind… they weren’t smart, but they were tough and resilient.” Wilf spoke quietly, while his sister gathered her thoughts. “We broke them up, but they kept trying to reform. I’ve got them bagged and stashed away now.”

“Interesting… were they humanoids?” Dannyl asked, while scanning the huge cave with his unnatural senses. “There’s still a lot of remnant magic floating around, but there’s something else.”

“Roughly humanoid, and they seemed to have a rudimentary intellect of some sort, enough to be aggressive and persistent.” Rio supplied. “They reacted to our spells much the way natural undead do, like frozen zombies, or haunted statues. No spiritual entities that I could detect though, just faint traces of undirected Will and Animus.”

“Weird.” The smiling ginger man muttered, as Ivy hopped down off the boulder she was perched on and joined the group. “Any thoughts, Ives?”

“Reminds me of those haunted armor creatures we fought way back when… remember the wanna be lich lord?” The blonde mage sighed with a smile. “Those hollow, haunted armor suits were smart, but otherwise…”

“You suspect an undead wizard?” Dannyl asked softly, halting halfway through casing his weapon up in its odd boxlike scabbard of wood and leather. A soft, metallic chiming sound whispered through the cavern, as his whip uncoiled and began slowly thrashing like an agitated serpent, writhing and coiling on the rough stone floor.

“No… well perhaps, but if it’s something similar, I suspect a magical accident or misadventure.” Ivy murmured thoughtfully. “The traces and emanations are too random, in addition to the creatures being nearly mindless.” She tapped her chin with the artfully carved tipper she had been drumming with.

“They can’t have come from too far away…” Wilf muttered sourly. “They were slow and clumsy.”

“Good point Wilf! Let’s find the source of this effect… I’m feeling a little violent and destructive.” Ivy’s bright blue eyes flashed with eagerness, as her younger brother and the kids got ready to move out.

“Nuhh, uhh!” Amy catcalled her auntie, through her own barely contained eagerness. “You’re our supervisor, you gotta supervise! We’ll let you know if we need your help.”

Rio rattled ‘The Bloody Drum’ at her, in solidarity. Maya played a soft air on her long, iron flute making her agreement known, while Wilf struck a hype man pose behind the others; his arms crossed and elbows raised, one hip popped aggressively at the grownups.

Frankie and Benny were on watch, so they remained silent. Even so, the veteran Adventurers knew there was no chance of winning; the kids were always unified and they wanted this.

#

Tallum, up at the camp on the surface, was still barely in range of Becky and the others, back in the harbor. They were at the limit of his earcuff’s range, as were Ivy and the kids, down in the depths. He smiled in renewed wonder at the craft and art of the tiny devices, able to carry his voice all the way down the mountain and into the lightless depths.

“Ok, Ives… I’ll let Becky know.” He said softly, seated on a boulder near the tents.

“They have run into a complication, we may be staying here another night.” He told the two young locals, stargazing on a blanket nearby.

“We’ll happily stay and keep you company…” The catgirl purred from her comfy nest of blankets.

“I wanted to do a bit more hunting up here as well.” Jeskin murmured. “The salt grilled cave crickets are delicious!” He nodded at a brace of skewered insects, slowly roasting beside the campfire.

“Ooo! Are they done?” The hungry giant asked eagerly. “I have some rice ready…”

“Nope, you have a message to relay first!” Leafy sassed the huge man, with a playful giggle.

“As bad as Amy… fit right in…” He grumbled through a smile, while adjusting his jewel to contact Becky before bedtime.

#

Late spring in county Kinnis dawned cool and bright, the sun banished the fog within minutes of its first appearance over the mountains.

Three armed and armored young men were hunting a wily and dangerous creature through the damp woodlands of the half wild valley, stalking their prey warily, lest it stalk them in turn. They stepped into a pleasant little meadow, with a huge tree near the northern edge, spreading its boughs to the four winds in regal splendor

“Perry, stay close.” Barry whispered to the lad with a heavy boar lance in his hands.

“Larry, climb that oak and get a look around, now that it’s clear.”

Larry nodded to his brother and shimmied up the tree like a squirrel, his bow slung carefully behind him. A scant four seconds later, there was a soft cry of alarm, followed by a loud clang. The boy plummeted back to the ground in a rain of broken twigs and leaves, completely limp.

He landed flat on his back and groaned, as a tall, muscular man leapt from the tree and grinned at the remaining hunters.

“Good job finding me…” Their papa said, through his crooked, half mad smile of delight. He shook himself all over, sending more twigs and forest detritus raining down on the helpless boy at his feet. “Now we see how good you are at catching me.” As he spoke the last word, he was already in motion, sprinting for the treeline.

“Get Larry up and moving, I’ll track him.” Perry said softly, before dashing off after the fleeing man.

“Wait! It could be a trap…” He called after his rapidly vanishing brother.

“It’s totally a trap, son.” Gary whispered, as he stepped from the bushes behind Perry.

“Aww, dang!” The young man mumbled as the world went dark.

#

“Stay alert Perry, I think he might have doubled back!” Barry shouted to his brother, as he scanned the soil and bushes for signs of disturbance. “Perry? Larry…?” He called again, when he received no answer.

“Stupid no magic item rule…” Perry grumbled, as he began making his way back to the clearing. “Could’a just earringed them…”

“This is a training exercise, you may not always have our toys to play with, son.” Papa murmured softly in his ear, as his big, calloused hand came down on the young Adventurer’s shoulder.

“Always keep the team together if you can… If you can’t, then you need to find a way to keep the team together.”

He gave his son’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Let’s go get your brothers. It’s time for second breakfast!”

#

“If all three of you had gone under my tree, two would have been able to hem me in, while one climbed. I wouldn’t have tried to take you down like that.” Gary lectured over breakfast. “If you had a full team of six, you would’a had me.”

All four kids gave him a flat, disappointed look; even Harry, who was only twelve. “Ok, I would still probably escape… but not without using a few of my trickiest tricks.” Gary sighed at the boys.

“Forcing your quarry to reveal their tricks can be the difference between life and death, kids.” He said, suddenly seeming very intent and serious. “When you have the upper hand, work hard and smart to keep it.”

“That’s enough, lad… tis naptime fer thee.” Shai said firmly, as her hand clapped down on his shoulder; just as he had done not so long ago with Perry.

“Awww… but naptime’s for babies…” He whined pitifully, with a wink at the kids. With no regard for his silliness, the tall, red haired woman slowly hauled him upstairs and put him to bed.

“Ye are getting stronger e’vry day, my love. Dinnae set yerself back by being willful and childish.” She sassed him, once he was drifting off to sleep.

Count Liam and lady Tawny were downstairs, beside the fire making sweet music together, when she went back downstairs. All four boys were jamming along, on whatever instrument they fancied at the moment.

The family collection took up most of the wall space around the common room, instruments of every description on racks, hangers and stands all around. Guitars, lutes, banjos, mandolins, harps, horns, flutes and drums of every kind were within easy reach, and the kids swapped out regularly.

Perry was just settling in behind an acoustic bass, joining the music on the next bar. Larry had taken his brother’s banjo and passed a contrabass recorder to Harry who slipped back into the mix without breaking stride.

Shai watched with maternal pride on full display, as her kids rollicked through a medley of local favorites. Her bells and violin joined the music, her twirling, colorful skirts and dancing feet were the final missing element.

#

The delve team pushed on in the darkness, following the traces left by those lumbering crystal giants’ graceless, stomping feet. They moved in near silence, speaking only when needful and taking care that their footfalls and gear remained quiet. The pool of dim illumination they moved in faded and diffused mere yards away, disrupted by a charm Maya whispered into her flute, playing the tune silently with her fingertips running over her flute as they walked.

At the head of their column, Rio touched off a dim red glowstone built into the back of his helm, signaling the team to stop, silently. An instant later, the stone switched to a pale yellow light, indicating that they should approach cautiously.

“There’s a glow from ahead.” He whispered, as the team formed up behind him, where he skulked near a bend in the tunnel. “Kill your lights and let your eyes adjust.”

Darkness swallowed the passage, save for the soft glow on Ivy’s wand tip, at the back of the group. From the bend in the tunnel, faint, prismatic glimmers reflected on the wall ahead, reminding them of the light show the golem creatures had put on, before collapsing.

“Im’a go take a peek… be right back.” Rio whispered, after a moment or two. In utter silence, the young man slipped around the rocky curve and vanished.

#

Becky and sir Kermal were lounging on the foredeck of Moonrise, watching the birds, giant jewel tone dragonflies and colorful batlizards flit about, in their eternal battle against the skeeters. Those wretches were so numerous and bold, that even by daylight the aerial combat continued unabated.

Becky watched with sublime happiness, as a dragonfly plucked one of the enormous, moth winged bloodsuckers and wrestled it into the reeds nearby.

“I haven’t been bitten by one of these island skeeters… Is it as bad as they say?” She asked her husband, while pouring the tea.

“Mainland skeets’ venom numbs the bite for a few minutes, so the filthy things can get away without waking or alerting the victim.” Kermal replied with a grimace of unpleasant memories brought to mind.

“These things have a burning, itching bite that gives the game away every time. Instead, they always try to creep up and get you in a place they can’t be swatted with ease… and they cling on til they get their fill.”

“Gross!” She sighed happily. “We should head to the temple and see how renovations are proceeding… after lunch. The kids won’t be back in town for at least another day.”

She let the sounds of the bustling little town wash her cares away, watching that sweet rabbit couple and their swarm of kids hard at work. The humble shed that housed the town’s craft hall was as busy as any of the facilities in the city itself; people streamed in and out all day.

Furniture repairs, requests for house maintenance and any number of similar jobs kept the beastkin carpenters and smiths hard at work, while the kids were out of town.

Another day or two and Westfall town would be self-sufficient… more or less. Becky’s employees were running the trading post for her, bartering tools and finished goods for raw hides, green lumber and local forage.

The scrap trade had dwindled, once the hardliners from the Craft guilds had their apprentices descend on the junk piles and loot them of what metal rubbish remained. The damage had been done already. The kids had bartered and bought nearly every loose piece of brass, bronze, copper and tin on the island. Now the Westfall islanders were doing for themselves, most of the things they had been forced to go to the city for.

The bakery and craft hall were only the start; a small, flourishing fishmarket had cropped up, as had a greengrocer, trading in the produce of the local garden plots and fisheries. Those goods had long been bartered among the islanders when they could, or when necessary, sold for a pittance in the city market… A pittance that the fees and taxes of the city would consume entirely in most cases.

Ralph and Morrie, a pair of affable and cheerful beaver men, were doing a brisk business, buying and trading vegetables, fruit and forage with a number of local gardeners and enterprising young people.

A pack of young dog and cat kids were haggling viciously for a better deal on their goods, a basket of fine, early fern fronds, several bushels of bamboo shoots and a huge bale of swampsparagus, a tall marsh reed, favored for its sweetness, crunch and juicy, tangy flavor when grilled.

“We won’t take less than a copper mark for the lot! You know you want it…” Bikka, the smiling, confident poodle girl that led the gang yipped with amusement at the merchants.

“Now, kids…” Ralph soothed and cooed at them, while eyeing their goods hungrily. “The quality is a little questionable…” He spoiled his own lie, when a bubble of drool appeared on his lips.

“Uhh, huh… In that case we’ll see if the Laupin family are interested in our vegetables of ‘questionable quality’.” She barked softly and did a happy little dance, when the beaver man immediately surrendered two copper half marks to her grasping paws. “Nice doing business with you…” She sang, as her cluster of young people scampered off chattering excitedly at their newfound riches.

“You were right Oriel, coming right before lunch worked a charm!” Bikka nuzzled and nipped a smiling jaguar girl on her shoulder in her canine excitement.

For their part, the two beaver men were already busy, Morrie was cutting the long, dark green reeds of swampsparagus into foot long sections for grilling and Ralph was whisking a dipping sauce of some kind together with a look of intense concentration on his face.

“We have got to get those human kids to show us how that ‘tempura’ thing is done…” He grumbled hungrily.

Furry folks, humans from the docklands slums roamed the small town and the nearby trading post, dealing and looking around with interest. There were even a few traders from out of town, drawn by the lower dock fees and easy access to a suddenly prosperous town that was eager for goods.

A small, independent trade boat was bobbing near Moonrise, moored to the hastily constructed but sturdy township docks across the channel.

Water Dragon failed utterly to live up to her fearsome name; she was a round bellied little coaster that circled Centre Port almost constantly, trading at the villages and small towns around the island. She dealt in preserved foods, small luxuries and general goods; much like the trading post did. His crew were eagerly pouring over the goods available there and in the burgeoning market of Westfall, making purchases with hard currency and trading briskly.

Her captain, Beuregard Wills had a complicated history with Esperanza’s Bounty and her crew, being distantly related to Dante and desperate to win the approval of Esperanza herself. The man was just eighteen and a new minted captain, inheriting his boat from an uncle of some renown locally.

His crew of four were all older, seasoned veteran sailors and those nearing retirement themselves.

They handled their business with the easy skill and grace of skilled tradesmen, performing familiar tasks; whether haggling over a hundred pound bale of dried, salted sprats, a local fish that was staple of island cuisine, or supervising the loading two tons of fine milled flour into her hold, with a cleverly designed cargo crane.

“I’ve never seen the like of this thing…” Oliver, the second in command of Water Dragon murmured in amazement, as a heavy rope net filled with goods slowly and ponderously drifted into the open cargo hold.

Two burly young dogmen were trotting in a huge wheel, turning a belt driven water pump; which in turn filled a number of huge bladders of tanned monster frog hide, suspended from booms and beams over the bay. Water would pour from one or another, as others filled in a dance that was almost hypnotic.

The otter woman at the controls pushed and pulled levers to fill or empty the enormous liquid filled bags, dangling in a complex network of cables strung over and around the pier. All of that cabling, hundreds of pulleys, a massive boom arm of reinforced iron bamboo and a devilishly complicated nest of levers and valves combined into one intricate machine.

Wilf and Tallum’s mad invention allowed the three crane operators to dangle the massive cargo net over Water Dragon’s open hold, with delicate precision and settle her burden as gently as a butterfly alighting on a flower.

“What happens if one of those bags bursts? That could drop right through her hull and sink her…” Oliver fretted and grumbled, even while he watched their work in rapt wonder.

“There’s a safety brake, incase of a falling load; but those counterweights are made of frogodile and gator skin… Sack up, buddy.” Reena, the crane operator chittered at the grizzled old sailor; while her crew kept running to power the water pump. She eased the lever that would open the main counterweight and slowly lower her burden into the ship’s hold, with a sound of rushing water and a soft creak, as the cables and beams released their burden.

“See? Safe and sound! Don’t be afraid of new things, captain!” The otter woman wriggled a sinuous dance of joy as her team took a well earned break.

#

The servants and lower echelons of Centre Port’s upper crust were keeping busy these days. A swarm of well dressed flunkies descended on the Craft temples within hours of when Becky had nailed the official notice to the temple’s hideously rococo door of carved and gilt mangrove wood.

The god of Craft appeared in numerous guises on the panels of the doors, though whatever craft he performed in the icons and idols, he was a robust and richly dressed and well fleshed man of late youth or early middle age. The central panel revealed the god, in the heroically muscled form of a mighty smith. Craft was depicted in radiant contemplation of his arts, standing above a forge, hammer in hand, in bas relief, picked out in gold and small ornaments of costly materials.

Despite the artistry of the thing, Becky smiled grimly as she did her work. She’d driven the rough iron spike right into the benevolent deity’s wooden heart, with obvious malice and ill intent.

The scroll dangling from that rude, crude and destructive spike was even less subtle.

By order of the god Marduk, light of man’s reason, this temple will be closed, pending renovations. All decorative objects, goods and personal effects must be removed from the premises within two common days of this notice, or such items will be subject to disposal or forfeiture.

Becky Ward, high priestess of the Cult Of Man’s Knowledge.

The rich drapes and jewels adorning the statuary in the temple nave had vanished in a twinkle, as if by magic… As had many of the statues and idols that littered the space. There had been a long tradition of commemorating notable (wealthy) citizens with idols to the god, with the departed in the background; or in a few cases, depicted as the god himself.

The sheer arrogance and self congratulatory hubris of the things was disgusting enough, even without Becky’s antipathy to the fallen god of Craft and his remaining worshippers. The high priestess strolled among the statues in the afternoon sunshine, smiling coldly and admiring the craft and artistry, despite the subject matter.

Those statues which remained on the temple grounds had been carted out and re settled in the temple park, by workmen hired for the task from the slums of Centre Port and Westfall. The venerable ancestors of the town’s noble houses had a fine view of the community garden and children’s park, while providing valuable roosting spots for the local birds and bird analogues.

“Becky… My beloved wife… are you going to drive the local gentry into open rebellion?” Kermal asked softly, as a legion of hostile eyeballs bored into the pair of them, from the windows and shopfronts that surrounded the formerly quiet, conservative park.

Financial institutions, trade halls and guild offices surrounded the temple park, shoulder to shoulder, taking up every precious inch of available land around the perimeter of the sacred space. Elaborate facades, picture windows, balconies and rooftop lounges for the elite had looked out on the temple park, in its former rigid, immaculate precision and silent tranquility.

Those worthy citizens now enjoyed a fine view of a bustling crowd and the promise of more chaos to come, as the ‘community garden’, ‘children’s park’ and ‘public library’ slowly took shape.

Now there were freshly manured garden beds around the feet of each regal statue pedestal, planted with local wildflowers, herbs, fruits and vegetables.

A kiddies’ play structure was coming together, under the supervision of a beaver man in a bib overall that made him look super official… and cute as a button, until he spoke.

“Get yer backs into it boys, that beam’s barely two hundred pounds, ya bunch of ninnies!” He swatted the ground of his worksite several times with his wide, flat tail as he ‘encouraged’ a mixed group of workers in their tasks. Twenty men and women, humans and beastfolk, all worked side by side… and suffered the forebeaver’s criticism’s together.

“That swing set needs leveling before you seat it… God’s man… use a spirit level, not yer half fogged, drunkard’s eyeball measures!” He barked and chittered at his crew mercilessly… and ignored the priestess and her escort entirely, so long as they did not dare set foot on his jobsite.

“Now, Kermie… would I deliberately offend and outrage the good people of this town?” The beautiful woman he’d married asked sweetly, while she fluttered her eyelashes at him in the way she knew he couldn’t resist.

“Baroness Dunham specifically requested our help with these matters. She’s been working up to this for a while now, if any of these goons try to get frisky…”

Becky paused briefly, listening to something in her ear with a look of concern on her face.

“Trouble?” The young knight asked softly after a moment.

“Maybe… The kids ran into something odd… Magically odd.” She murmured. “Everyone’s safe, Ivy and Dannyl are supervising the investigation.”

“Is it dangerous?” He asked calmly.

“Deathless, aggressive, crystal entities…” She answered with a shrug and a smile. “Pretty standard. We live in a world of freakin’ magic and wonders.”

#