Sailing Ether Tides

Sailing Ether Tides Ch: 2

Ch:2 Shore Detail

“He wants to go with you Wilf… Let him help if he can. You know he doesn’t really want to hurt you; doesn’t really want to make you cry…” Ward shook his head fiercely, trying to get an eighties smash hit out of his ears. “You know what I mean…”

“Yeah, I do.” Wilford Brimley Ward said with a sigh of resignation, as he held out a black, oily looking wooden club of curious design. It had ridges and grooves carved in a spiral and a hole bored through the ‘sweet spot’ as though it had been ‘corked’, and the illegal added weight had been removed in the interest of fair play.

Ward held his hand out, allowing a liquid stream of slithering black scales to flow out of his sleeve. The gleaming, jet black serpent coiled through the hole in the weapon, wrapped several loops of itself around and finally nestled its silver fanged, red eyed head against the pulsing vein in the young warrior’s wrist.

“Welcome back, old friend.” He whispered softly as the creature’s fangs rested gently against a pair of old, white, puckered scars in his flesh.

#

“The island has no name, since none can or would put ashore, or even approach.” Esperanza called from the wheeldeck, as she watched over her crew as they prepared for a shore action.

“It’s unknown territory, children. Dante and Yusef will accompany you, No arguments.” They groaned and moaned a little, but gave in to good sense as the island drew near in the misty morning.

“Be careful… I can’t set foot on that island. If you get in trouble there, I might as well be a buzzing gnat for all the good I’ll do…” Ward grumbled, looking a bit washed out and pale. “This place is drenched in undeath, I can’t even see ghosts and shades, they’re someone else’s territory.”

“Most sailors in the Shallow Sea have, at one time or another… attempted to land here. Out of foolish bravado, I tried, when I was your age.” Dante murmured, as he strapped on his armor and weapons.

“What did you see?” Amy asked breathlessly. “Ghosts?”

“No, I fled, rowing as fast as I could, racing ahead of a following breeze, to get away from that blighted rock… Perhaps whatever it is, has weakened.” The calm and taciturn first officer said with a smile.

“Nope.” Ward sang happily. “You changed, not it. Soaking in the Ward family baths is a transformative experience, like transcendental meditation, or a chance met tree maiden in the wilderness…”

“Ward!” Wilf scolded his uncle, while Yusef giggled so hard he dropped his spear to the deck.

The dismal pall of misery and unwelcomeness the normal crew of the ship suffered under was nearly suffocating but tolerable. Ordinarily, even hardened Adventurers or desperate pirates would be turnt around by the wave of palpable repulsion and denial from the place.

Ward flickered into semi substantialness as they neared the cove. By the time they were anchored, he was little better than a drifting shadow with a distant, almost inaudible whisper for a voice.

It looked pleasant enough as the sun came out and burned away the fog; tall, shaggy palms and a riot of vegetation clung to the rocky shores, dangling all the way to the water from the sheer boulders and cliffsides. As Esperanza’s Bounty came around the lump of rocks and soil jutting from the sea, a small lagoon appeared, its sandy beach and semicircle of stony natural seawall protected a fine anchorage.

There were even faint signs of human habitation at some distant point in the past. A few of the stones at the entrance had been worked by someone’s hands, they still bore faint marks of the quarryman’s drill.

Esperanza dropped anchor in the center of the bay, while Amy leaned over the side, doing something. There was a loud splash and the sound of something gently bumping her ship’s flank a moment later.

“Amy! What the hell?” Ward demanded in a hoarse whisper. “Did you steal your sister’s boat?”

“Nope.” She said with a grin. “Seahorse is way bigger… and so much faster.” She sighed a little there. “This is MissAdventure… Our boat! Wilf built it with uncle Tallum and Ivy. I helped, that’s why I can stash it!”

“Your folks let you have a boat?” Ward whispered harshly.

“Ward, my dear…” Esperanza chuckled in his shadow ear. “Amy’s had her Pirate’s License since she was five. She tested for and received her Unrestricted Pillaging Endorsement two years ago.”

“I keep forgetting whose family this is… my brother… is nuts.” The shadow bat croaked sulkily. It was going to be a long day.

Three armored kids and two sailors in full Adventure kit clambered nimbly over the side and into a small skiff of neatly fitted oak planks. Her figurehead was of a ‘Treble Clef’ the highly unofficial Ward family crest; by decree of Gary Ward, the mad, maimed, sickly patriarch of the tiny clan of misfits, weirdos and monster slayers.

The sailors’ armor and weapons were gifts from their captain’s mad brother from another world… and were destined to become family heirlooms.

Carapace of the sea, Enchanted armor. Etheric and spiritual enchantments. Rank: Unranked. Elemental affinities: Water, Life, Light, Healing, Air. Rarity: Number two of five existing examples.

When worn by, or within one mile of a source of etheric magic, the wearer will receive the full benefit of this enchanted equipment.

Effect: Undrowning, the wearer will not sink below the surface of any mundane liquid without explicit intent to do so. Attempts at water walking may have unpredictable results.

Effect: Toothbreaker, armor is extraordinarily resistant to crushing, puncture and pressure effects.

Effect: Water of Life, armor will provide fresh, potable water from the drinking tube concealed inside the helmet… it’s water… just trust me.

Effect: Hardshell Finish, armor will self clean and repair when not in combat, while exposed to a source of etheric magic.

Wilf sighed and smiled sadly at these works of his papa’s hands, as he helped the sailors gear up. At his touch, messages detailing the enchanted items appeared in the corner of his eye, alongside his Health, Mana and Stamina bars.

He didn’t have a full Interface gift like papa Gary, but his was growing steadily since his first Contract. Brigid nestled close to his heart, warming him from within…

Her initial touch last year had lit a spark in his soul, prompting him to dive deeper into his father’s crafts and arts than ever before; now it was a blazing hearth, urging him to snoop and explore these magical and artistic workings.

Now that his Contract was sealed and bound, it was spreading out and touching more of the world, rather than just inside his own aura.

“Hold on…” Rio mumbled, clapping a hand to his much bigger, younger brother’s shoulder. “You can nerd out later, after we’re done with uncle Ward’s gardening project.”

He knew the signs of Wilf getting dangerously distracted by their father’s crafts… “I’ll let you explain how the motor works…” That perked the blocky craftsman up; Wilf loved chattering while he worked.

They all clambered down onto the sleek, shallow drafted skiff now tied alongside ‘Bounty’ and bobbing on the tiny waves. MissAdventure was slim, low and swift across the water, she didn’t thrum and bash against the waves, she slid over them and sliced a thin wedge from the surface in passing.

“She gets unstable, if I push the speed…” Amy explained from the tiller. “More ballast and a deeper keel would help… but I can’t fit those in my storage gift, til I rank up.”

“Becky wants me to refit Seahorse…” Wilf muttered sadly. “Papa’s still not well enough and she’s seen some weather.”

“Yeah…” Amy sighed. “She can’t wait any longer… She’s been pulling starboard and some of those old repairs are looking rough.”

“Don’t talk about other boats aboard ‘Miss’, you’re making her jealous.” Wilf complained with a rare wink and smile, as he hopped to the sand and made her fast to a stout pair of palm trees.

“You like that name?” Rio mumbled at his brother, when he thought Amy couldn’t hear.

“He named her, dummy!” Amy sang from halfway up a lunar date palm. “I wanted to name her Seapony.”

“Ok, Wilf wins.” Rio grinned up at his nimble sister, as she leapt to a nearby banana tree.

While they were chattering, Wilf and Rio used their combat shovels to clear some brush from the edge of the lagoon and establish a camp. Yusef and Dante patrolled the area and kept watch, while the kids worked quickly.

Amy dropped a huge bunch of bananas down, after politely evicting the locals, in spider. They weren’t sentient, if they were they would have long since crawled into the sea and hoped for rescue. It was still good manners though.

“The god of Beasts grieves for the fallen, even while rejoicing in my victory. Til we meet again, brother.” Amy whispered her prayer softy, after smooshing an aggressive arachnid who wouldn’t listen to reason. It was a half pound of angry, highly venomous bug, so just brushing her away was not going to work.

“They call you wandering spiders… shoulda wandered on.” She sighed at the twitching, eight legged mess. She scooped it into a sheet steel box from her storage and tucked it back away with a grimace. Papa always got sad and upset when she killed something and left it behind, now it was habit… Besides, it would be good fish bait.

Now that they were ashore, Rio was certain. There was an abandoned ritual site somewhere on this little rock, stinking up the place, attracting shades and ghosts, like a spiritual bug zapper.

“Hey, gang… remember Wicklowe? The fireworks man?” He called out. “We’re in something like that.”

“Ritual magic aura of forbiddance…” Wilf muttered with a nod. “Standard stuff. Kinda a small radius though.”

“I noticed that too.” Rio murmured. “The actual zone of forbiddance is less than a quarter mile radius… from the cove.”

“It’s under water?” Amy asked, as she slid down a palm and nimbly leapt to the ground.

“Or underground… this is an extinct volcano… caves or a magma chamber could be down there.” Wilf offered helpfully. “It would have to be deep underwater or underground, to remain intact under the moonlight for so long.”

“Diving or delving, this is going to be interesting.” Amy said with glee. “Any active undead around, Rio?”

“I can’t tell, too much noise from the forbiddance. Jam sesh?” He already had his bongos out and was warming the skins with his palms.

Rattle-tap, enchanted drums. Spiritual enchantment. Rank, unranked. Rarity; unique.

Effect: Dead Man’s Party, when played by or in proximity of a source of etheric magic, spirits and incorporeal entities may manifest.

Effect: Danse Macabre, player may expend Mana and shadow essence from their Ka to encorporate a willing spirit, shade or ghost temporarily.

Effect: From the Crypt, active undead in the local area will be summoned to the instrument when played. Undead or spiritual beings may suffer affliction: Call of the Grave, if hostile contact is made with player’s shadow or aura.

Call of the Grave: Affliction, spiritual or undead entities afflicted with this condition will rapidly degrade. While active this effect greatly increases. While active in sunlight, geometric increase of this effect will occur. While active in moonlight, exponential increase of this effect will occur. Chance to afflict: Ten percent, scaled against player’s Rank, Will, Animus, Mind and Ka, if applicable.

Rio began scattering percussion across the little cove and out into the island proper, as Wilf’s flute joined in, adding its native inducements and lures to his drum’s call. The simple maple recorder at his big little brother’s lips was a family treasure. Forest’s Breath was papa’s first instrument crafted in this world and had grown with him for his entire, extraordinary, if brief career facing the uncanny and weird.

Amy’s guitar took the lead, crying out in the bright morning sunshine as she sang her plaintive pop standard.

In my heart the fire is burning…

Choose my color, find a star…

Precious people always tell me…

That's a step, a step too far…

Do you really want to hurt me?

Do you really want to make me cry?

Only a single tattered shade slipped out into the dappled sun under the towering palms. It eased into Rio’s shadow with an exhausted sigh and vanished entirely.

“Well… that’s that, I guess?” He murmured. “Let’s get Ward’s thing done and let Becky and the cult of Knowledge come stamp this out.”

“Of course, Rio… I never would have considered any other course of action…” Amy pronounced very loudly and clearly to the clearing. “Cause I’ve learn’t my lesson about charging headlong into trouble…”

“Since when have you… Uncle Yusef, are you spying on us?” Wilf demanded, when he noticed the young sailor and Adventurer leaning close and pressing a tiny silver button, pinned to his collar. “Auntie, we’re following orders and operating within bounds…” He called out to the embarrassed sailor. “Uncle Yusef is terrible at being sneaky…”

“Hey!” That worthy complained loudly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Amy sassed him as she formed up with her brothers. “If you’re done broadcasting our private conversations, we’re ready to move. Ward wants four plantings evenly spaced out… I guess Strangler Fig has some talent for handling ghosts and such, I’ve never met her...”

“Mmm, yeah, she’s the most haunted of the dryads.” Rio said softly. “She comes when I play my drums in the garden sometimes… I think she’s just shy around the living, mostly.”

“But she likes you?” Amy demanded in disbelief, as she readied her pistol crossbows and loosened her rapier in its scabbard. “No accounting for some tree’s taste…” She mumbled with a wink at her falsely outraged brother, busily sputtering in incoherent and overacted emotional trauma. His spear was held steady though.

Wilford’s heavy armor and warshovel put him at the head of the little troop, beside Dante, who was armed with a machete, while Yusef brought up the rear, carrying a crossbow.

Ranza came over their earcuffs, speaking through the magical ‘comms’ jewelry that was among their family’s greatest secrets.

Since the night of the Fool’s Moon, those few sets that had escaped into the open market had become even more precious, as their creator; the children’s father, was widely known to have died, on that strange and awful night, along with a few notable gods.

That no more wonders appeared from the usually quiet workshops of Wheatford town seemed to be confirmation of that tale. Eventually the snooping collectors and acquisitive nobles and merchants stopped sniffing around, leaving the grieving family in peace.

In the twelve years since the second moon had shimmered into the public consciousness, no more wondrous, impossible, enchanted miracles had come forth. Though the dusty little mercenary domain on the backside of nowhere, still produced a steady stream of constant innovations in other areas of craft and artistry.

The tiny green and blue moon circling high above the world every night had been born with their father’s death. Born in a display of magical pyrotechnics that circled the entire world, putting on a spectacular light show for a full forty hours.

A little over eight years ago, uncle Ward and the god of Beasts had come calling, bearing a very special gift; a unique silver fig tree that eventually ripened and… It ‘passed’ their maimed and crippled father back into the world, in a wet, disturbing and sticky miracle that was best remembered with hazy fondness, if at all. He was wrecked and cursed, but alive and healing, if terribly slowly.

If Rio and Wilf were right, this was most likely a sad remnant of the ages old plot that their papa had paid a terrible price to expose and confound… A price he paid again and again, and continued to pay.

“I heard the tale of your Wicklowe, the bottled corpse… from Dannyl. Is this one of those?” Yusef asked, while watching the scrubby forest of herbs, bushes and palm trees.

“At least a few of them, most likely.” Rio replied. “If we find them and they’re unguarded, we can handle this ourselves.”

“Guarded?” Dante asked calmly, his machete continuing to clear the path beside Wilf’s keen bladed, shovel and ax combo.

“The last one was guarded by a weak lich… hardly more than a crumbling mess.” Amy offered helpfully.

“Not helping.” Wilf sighed to his sister.

#

It took the better part of the day to circle the little rocky island, no game trails or human paths existed in the verdant and tangled jungle near sea level, inside the protection of the fallen volcanic cone. On the slopes leading to the worn and rounded crater rim, thorn bushes and hardy scrub dominated. The only trees of note were palms and bananas in the jungle, here on the slopes it was a hardscrabble collection of tough shrubs and herbs, clinging to the rocks and barren soil.

At the foot of a tall, shaggy palm Amy planted the first of their long, vine like, potted cuttings, tying it to the host with a few lengths of jute cord.

They made their slow circuit of the island, ending up back at their rough little clearing to plant the final shoot of Strangler Fig, with a collective sigh of satisfaction.

“No monsters… but no treasure either…” Amy complained sourly, as she washed her hands in the lagoon. While they worked, the sky to the south west had continued to build a brace of towing thunderheads and complain up a storm with low, rumbling threats.

Ranza had the storm flag up when they finished, calling the crew to return or encamp before the weather could arrive. Yusef spoke softly into his collar button, on a private channel with captain Ranza for a moment, before turning to the three kids.

“Can you… uhh… magic up a house and dock?” He asked awkwardly. “Captain says this storm is a slow mover and I guess your uncle gets seasick…”

“No, he doesn’t, they just wanna moor up for a day and have the boat to themselves.” Rio sighed wearily. “I dunno why grownups think they have to lie about that stuff…”

“Just draws more attention to their…” Wilf muttered.

“I think it’s cute, how mama an papa are always ‘going fishing’.” Amy giggled.

“Gross.” Rio and Wilf sighed in harmony. This was familiar territory for the poor kids… their parents were incorrigible. During their interplay, all three produced their favorite instruments and tuned up, prompting Yusef to pull his own instrument from nowhere at all.

The sailor Adventurer fiddled with a hefty bronze and gold ring on his finger for a moment and a full sized acoustic guitar slipped into being, like warm honey pouring from a cracked hive.

He joined their song with long familiarity, slipping in among his niece and nephews, smiling happily in the shabby little cove.

The song made little sense, beyond its repeated and very catchy hook, declaring something or other about ‘Our House… In The Middle Of Our Street!’

When they wrapped up, a sturdy stone pier led out into the cove, beside three cozy cottages, each distinctly unique. Behind them, in the lovely garden sat a hotspring pool, steamy and inviting. The stone lined pool was surrounded by an impenetrable thicket of timber bamboo, a tarpaulin rain cover offered cozy bathing, even in bad weather…

“Nice…” Yusef whispered happily. “It’s good to be home at last… Home at last…” He began to strum idly, with a look on his face.

“Hold on there uncle… no Steely Dan.” Rio grumbled, as he strode over and muted the older man’s strings with his palm. He patted the swarthy, dark haired and handsome sailor on the cheek a few times, breaking his strange reverie.

“You gotta keep that under control, Wilf.” Rio complained to his brother.

“Sorry, I’m… kinda emotional… right now.” He murmured.

“Memberin’ the last one?” Amy asked gently, while the two sailors helped moor Bounty to the new addition to the cove.

“Yeah… and the others… Figaro, Marceline…” He sat down on a charming little stone bench beside the rose trellis and made room for his sister beside him. “I just get so… Angry.” He whispered.

Rio plucked a camp chair from his storage ring and settled nearby, to watch the storm roll in and talk. “Your snake came home, didn’t he.” The young man phrased it as a statement, not a question. He could read the answer on his brother’s face.

“We’re all together again…” Amy murmured. “Soon, anyway.” She sighed. “Wish Frankie could have come at least..”

“He could have, if he’d wanted to join our punishment cruise.” Wilf grumbled at his sister.

“Come on, it’s been fun!” She mumbled in embarrassment. “He’s gonna be mad he missed out on this… especially if we can find them and set it off!”

“No!” Wilf and Rio both barked in chorus.

“We’re almost done with the fallout from your last bright idea. I’m not sitting back on a hot stove, just cause my buttcheeks stopped hurting!” Rio muttered.

“I don’t wanna be a cargo handler and ship’s boy for the rest of my life, Amy.” Wilf shook his head angrily. “I really hate this.”

“That’s why you and I can’t Contract yet, when you’re ready it will all start to make more sense.” Uncle Ward’s hazy bat form muttered. “Let’s get inside before the storm hits. Looks nasty.”

“I thought you and Ranza’d stay on Bounty…” Rio muttered with a salty wink. “Captain’s supposed to go down on… with the ship, or something?” His smile of carefree childish innocence made Amy giggle and Wilf groan, in artificial despair.

“Gross, Rio.” Wilf muttered, while Uncle Ward pretended he had no idea what the kids were going on about. He was too busy taking his human form, dressed all in black, with a round black cap of shiny worm leather on his head.

The kids headed inside Wilf’s house, since it was the biggest and felt the most like home. The wide common room and simple, homely decorations said a lot about the boy himself.

The kitchen and hearth covered a good portion of the space, leaving only a bedroom, a loft full of bunks and the door to Wilf’s real home, his workshop, down in the foundation. Instruments hung from hooks and stood on stands nearly everywhere, among the potted plants, painted flowers and colorful drawings framed on the walls.

A few comfy sofas and chairs clustered around the hearth, near the kitchen and a long table lined with humble benches made up the balance of the furniture. Soon the house was comfortably full, as Nicolai and his familiar, Miggs, the ship’s cat joined the group.

Esperanza slipped in the door, having satisfied herself that her ship was secure and joined Ward on a sofa by the fire, seeming very cozy. “We’re going to be stuck here for a day at least…” Ward murmured quietly into the room.

“Yes, I’ll stay with Amy…” Rio muttered.

“Maybe I don’t want you in my guest room?” She asked with a grin.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just mad there’s no monsters on this island…” Rio fired back, in the age old tradition of siblings busting each other’s chops.

He was interrupted by a horrible screeching sound, as something attempted to rip the sturdy front door from its hinges.

#