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Captain Drebbin and the Thousand Nets – Part 8

Two hundred and forty-three mermen were bound and tied to equally many wooden poles. They filled the beach on the inner arch of the bay. The sun stood high, and its heat drew out the pungent odour of fish from their scaly tails.

Ulf coughed. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ornea grunted and Yerdan nodded. The stench was a small price for the life of his captain. Ornea may not have understood, but he owed the captain everything. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he was captured by the Mahearean navy only for Captain Drebbin to board the ship. Instead of killing him, the captain offered him freedom or a part in his crew. It was the quickest decision he ever made.

“There he is,” said Ulf.

Indeed, Captain Drebbin was slowly making his way across the wooden walkway that led to their home base. The mercenary mage was next to him. Why was he not supporting him?

Ulf and Yerdan hurried to their captain and offered to lend a hand, but he waved them away. His burnt body had started to rot, spreading a nauseating tang. Spots that before had been red had begun to blacken, and a viscous white liquid had pooled between the ridges of his flesh. “No. Walk. Self.”

The captain twitched with every step as if having to push through unimaginable pain. He had gotten worse, despite the mage’s intervention. Were they too late?

They came to the first mermaid. It was the surviving one of the three that they had captured in their first haul. Yerdan had not seen it in a while. Cuts decorated its skin, and scales had been torn from its tail. Its gaze was vacant. All it did was mumble, but Yerdan could not make out the words.

“Price. Of. Defiance.” The captain’s hoarse whisper was paired with a wheezing, yet there was an anger in it. A terror.

The captain left the mermaid and came to the next pole. “Heal me.”

“I can’t.”

Not a moment later, the captain’s blade ran across its throat. The captain did not wait for the creature to stop thrashing and bleed out but went on to the next.

“Heal me.” He paused for a moment, waiting for a response, but it remained quiet. His right eye widening as if inspecting the creature’s intent. Then, he cut its throat.

With each killing blow, the other mermen flinched and recoiled. With each killing blow, the creatures cried and wept.

This was necessary, Yerdan told himself. It would save his captain. It was necessary.

Ornea tapped on Yerdan’s shoulder and motioned for him to follow.

“What is it? I need to be with the captain,” Yerdan snapped.

“We have to go,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“We must leave. The magic pulses that I felt before. They’re growing more powerful.”

“Good! That means that it’s working.”

“No, I can feel it convulsing and writhing. It’s growing unstable, and it’ll burst, soon. Violently.”

“Surely it’s not that bad.”

“Look around. Do you see the mage anywhere? He sneaked away a while ago. It’s not safe. We must go. Quietly.”

Yerdan fell silent. He had to warn Captain Drebbin. Didn’t he? Maybe he could save him.

By now, the captain was drenched in the blood of the mermen. A crimson nightmare of burnt flesh and fresh blood. The fiend plunged his knife into the body of another of the mermen. He did not hesitate. He did not flinch. He did not even blink.

Whatever this beast was, Yerdan did not recognise his captain in it. The imposing man who once towered over his enemies was gone. A man who did not kill for pleasure or revenge, but for the fortune and gold and a name that will echo throughout the ages. The captain that he knew never returned from the war galleon’s raid.

That was when Yerdan knew. Ornea was right.

Ornea stopped walking and leaned against a tree. The trees had thickened as they ascended the cliff path. Near the top, a vast forest awaited them, overlooking the bay below. “Hold up.” She shook her head. “I need a moment.”

“Of course.” Yerdan could use a break himself. He just abandoned his captain, Ulf, and the rest of the crew. All because of a magic that he could not even feel. Ornea could have given up on him, too. Left him there. But she chose a risk, instead. He could have refused to leave with her. Worse, he could have stopped her and branded her a deserter. And a month ago, he would have.

Below, the horror continued, but Yerdan could no longer bear to look.

“We should go to Ragstall. Perhaps we can start our own crew,” Yerdan suggested, trying to take his mind off what was happening. “Your magic should convince at least some to join up.”

Ornea nodded. “I’d like that. Together at the helm, we would be–” She stopped talking.

“Ornea?”

Her eyes went wide, and she gasped while clutching her chest. Her legs lost their balance, and she fell to the ground. From her back protruded a crossbow bolt.

Yerdan ran to her and took her in his arms.

“I knew it was her,” a deep voice spoke, trembling. Ulf appeared from the bushes behind them, down the path from the bay. “It never made any sense to me why the Mahearean mage would set fire to their own galleon. They were winning the battle. And then you two disappeared into your chambers the moment we came ashore. Even your expression on the Hauler when we cast out the nets was wrong. Only when I saw you two sneaking away did I put it all together. If only I had seen it sooner.”

“Ulf…”

“Maybe I just didn’t want to see it. I thought that we were friends, Yerdan. Ornea, too.”

“Why did you do this, Ulf?” Tears ran over Yerdan’s face. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh, but it did. You chose that. You made sure of it.” Ulf raised the crossbow, aiming it at Yerdan.

Yerdan climbed back onto his feet. “If you’re going to do this, Ulf. I’ll be standing.”

“That is more honour than–”

A bright light that shone with the intensity of a thousand torches blinded them. It came from the bay. A thunderous boom deafened Yerdan and, in his daze, he heard only a ringing. Then, the sudden force of a powerful shockwave brought him and Ulf down.

Ulf’s crossbow lay on the ground, and Ulf scrambled to reach it.

Yerdan jumped onto the large man, pressing on his injured shoulder. Through the ringing, Ulf screamed and fell back upon the dirt.

From his pocket, Yerdan took a small knife. With all his might, he drove it deep into Ulf’s back. He pulled and dragged the blade through Ulf’s flesh. Ulf screamed and tried to grab the knife in his back, but his thrashing arms could not reach it. His strength waned, and then he was gone.

He let go of the knife. His hands were bloody.

A loud cry from below beckoned him. The light had ebbed away, and where the captain and his crew stood not a minute earlier, only blackened, motionless figures remained. Then it happened. The mermen had broken their bonds and were helping each other up. But not just the survivors, also the mermen that Yerdan knew to be dead rose. Together, they returned to the sea.

He crawled to Ornea and embraced her. She was right. As always, she was right, and she had saved him once more. And it cost him everything. He embraced her as if he would never let her go.

Was it what you were expecting? Hope? Despair? Kinship? Did this story give you what you needed? My dear, it is yours to do with as you please. There truly is no such thing as an excess of insight.

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Geography: Gravetop Mountains

Along Mahear’s eastern border sprawls the Gravetop Mountains, a nigh-untraversable region of jagged peaks and steep cliffs. Traversing this terrain is fraught with danger; even a prepared mountaineer may find the journey life-threatening. Scattered throughout the landscape are the remnants of ancient Calderaen ruins, black markers of veiled history that remain largely unexplored due to the mountains’ unforgiving nature.

The Gravetop Mountains have long served as Mahear’s greatest defence against Thelean reclamation campaigns. Their perilous expanse has forced invading forces to seek alternative routes: either through Mahear’s northern neighbour, Bercus, or across the seas.

However, blind trust in its security has been Mahear’s downfall before. History tells of Thelon the Great who moved his army through what is now known as Thelon Pass to circumvent the main Mahearean defence line and strike with devastating force at their rear. The manoeuvre cost Thelon dearly, claiming much of his army during the journey. Yet, the war ended with Mahear’s subjugation, marking its place as a province within its empire. Though his victory reshaped Mahear’s fate, its annexation into the Thelean Empire was never meant to last.

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Captain Drebbin and the Thousand Nets – Part 7

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” As far as his eyes could reach were boats – fishing trawlers, and cogs from mercenary bands and coastal villages alike. Yerdan had always dreamed of sailing with such a fleet. Granted, in his dreams it was doing battle with the Mahearean navy, but fishing for mermen was almost as good.

“No, it’s madness.” Ornea’s eyes were narrow, and her neck was tense. She was checking the ties between the nets. “It’s all gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our gold. We spent it all on this folly.”

“You felt the magic when it died. You said it yourself,” Yerdan said. “We need the mermen. Then, the captain will rise again, and he will bring us back from this. With his leadership, we can do anything. I know it.”

“It’s not worth it. And what if he finds out about what really happened that night on the war galleon?” Ornea dropped the nets and took Yerdan’s face in her hands. “Listen to me. The captain’s finished. Even if he survives this, he’s got no fleet, no crew, no gold. He’s finished. We should’ve taken our share and–”

“How are the nets?” Ulf’s booming voice carried across the Hauler.

“They’re fine,” Ornea said.

“Good, ‘cause we’re here.”

A sailor hoisted a red-coloured flag to signal the fleet to get into the formation that they discussed before embarking. The boats formed a long line and, once every one of them was in position, they lowered their nets.

Yerdan gripped the railing, but not to steady his stance; the sea was still. Eerily so. No, he did it to steady his mind. Almost a month of preparation culminated into this moment. Even with the help of the healers, the captain did not have much longer. This had to work, and the silence of the crew betrayed that everyone knew it.

A thousand nets were deposited into the sea, sloshing as they hit the water. Long lines connected them to cranes that were mounted upon the boats.

The nets fell to the sea floor. Then, when the lines lost their tension, a green flag climbed the mast to signal the fleet. The ships raised their sails and began dragging the thousand nets.

“Come on, Ornea.” Yerdan patted her on the shoulder. “Put your worries aside for a second and take in the view. Look at that line.”

Despite her narrow eyes, Yerdan thought that he saw the corners of her mouth curl up for a moment. Though it may have been his imagination.

The winds were picking up, but even then, the Hauler was slowing down. The nets were getting heavy.

“Time to reel them in,” Ulf commanded, and another flag was hoisted. It was the red flag again.

Yerdan joined the other sailors and grabbed a winch. The levers were heavy, and it took two people per winch to retrieve the nets. From the depths emerged a writhing mass of fish, rocks, seaweed, and mermen.

A cheer broke through the squelching of the haul, and before long, similar cheers came from the other ships. It appeared as though they were not the only ones with a catch.

The nets were emptied upon the deck one by one. Each time, the sailors hurried to restrain the trapped mermen with Ulf leading the charge. The creatures were bound and gagged and brought below deck.

“Four.” Yerdan retrieved a small knife from his pocket and stuck it into one of the fish on the floor. “We caught four. Not bad.”

“Yea,” Ulf was gleaming. “Now, we go again.”

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Bestiary: The Giant Frog

Excerpt from Beasts of Realida by Sebastien d’Ordaille

The giant frog, though far more terrifying, shares many traits with its smaller brethren, thriving equally on land and in water. While it possesses lungs, dissection reveals that these are not the primary means by which it breathes underwater. Instead, its highly specialised belly skin plays an intriguing role. When laid out, this skin spans a remarkable area – three times the surface of the rest of its body combined. It is intricately folded in complex twists and turns that I suspect aids in its underwater respiration. This may explain the creature’s incessant motion when submerged, a behaviour that is lost during its time on land.

These amphibian horrors favour swamps, where the damp air and soggy ground give them a distinct advantage over other predators. Their muscular hindlegs, designed for explosive bursts of movement, let them leap great distances across the sticky mud, while their prey must wade through the sludge. Even if they cannot outpace their prey, the giant frog’s formidable tongue comes into play. This pale-pink appendage, shockingly long and uncannily accurate, is both sticky and deadly. It has been known to snatch large animals and even men from a distance. One heavily armoured knight famously recounted losing his shield to the monstrous pull of the tongue.

Giant frogs usually leave people alone, which may invite a false sense of safety in their presence. But if provoked, they prove to be formidable foes. Therefore, avoid breeding grounds, particularly in spring when they are most aggressive. They become fiercely protective of their tadpoles, and any perceived threat results in loud, resonant croaks that summon others to their defence. To disturb a giant frog’s tadpoles is to invite certain doom; one might only hope that Balint grants a swift and painless death, though that is a rare blessing indeed.

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Captain Drebbin and the Thousand Nets – Part 6

The weight of the bound and gagged mermaid pressed on Yerdan’s shoulder. She was much heavier than a woman of similar height. He would know.

In the main chamber of their cavernous home, stakes had been driven into the ground. Yerdan placed the mermaid against it and tied her bonds to the post. To his left, Ornea did the same, and so too did another sailor.

“You found one?” exclaimed the mercenary battlehealer as he came through the door that led to the captain’s quarters.

“We found three,” proclaimed Yerdan. “Got lucky and found a shoal. The proud words reverberated through the caves.

“I did not…” the mage’s words trailed off, but the surprise on his face said it all.

Ornea cast a look at Yerdan. He had seen it a thousand times before. It was her way of saying “I told you so.”

From the same door emerged Captain Drebbin with Ulf supporting him by his arm. It was good to see him walking, but there was something unnatural about his motions. Or perhaps it was his burnt body that unsettled Yerdan.

The captain turned to the mage. “How?”

“They can heal you, Captain Drebbin.” His voice trembled slightly. Barely enough to notice, but Yerdan knew what to listen for. Perhaps Ornea was right. “They just may not want to. You may need to persuade them. Promise them freedom in return, perhaps.”

The captain nodded and shuffled to the first of the mermen. It was one of the two females. “You. Help. Me.” His words were staccato and nigh more than a whisper.

Ulf undid her gag.

“Wh- what are you?” The mermaid’s eyes were locked on the captain’s maimed face. She did not blink. Her breaths were gasps.

“Help. Or. Kill. Friend.”

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “I can’t help you.”

The captain drew a blade from Ulf’s vest and thrust it in the neck of the second mermaid. Blood seeped into the sand as the creature’s body convulsed and its tail thrashed violently, almost breaking the pole that held her bonds. Then, it went limp.

“No,” shrieked the first. Its hands were tense, and it was burrowing its nails deep into its skin. “Please, no.”

“Help. Me,” demanded Captain Drebbin.

“I can’t.” The creature wailed, shaking its head, its cries interrupted only by sharp breaths and piercing howls. “I can’t… I can’t,” the shrill phrase spilling out in desperate terror.

“Did you feel that?” the mage asked, turning his head towards Ornea. “You did. Didn’t you?”

“What’s he talking about, Ornea?” Yerdan had not felt anything, but Ornea was clenching her arms across her chest. Her wild curls clung to the sweat on her forehead, her hourglass tattoo distorted by the tension in her jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“When she died,” the mage answered. “She felt it, too. A disturbance in the elements.”

“Ornea, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “I’m not sure. A pulse of some kind. Unpleasant. Powerful, but subtle.”

“It means that it’s working, captain,” the mage smiled.

Without hesitation, the captain ran his knife across the merman’s neck. The mermaid’s wails echoed against the cavern walls.

“There it is again, stronger this time.” The mage trotted forwards, carrying a wide grin. “Yet the pulse didn’t come from the dead mermen, captain. It came from her.”

“What are you saying?” Yerdan asked. “We need to catch more of them?”

“Cast out. Thou-sand. Nets.”

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Botany: Purple Grass

Excerpt from An Alchemist’s Guide to Botany by Ernila of Vatora

Grass may be amongst the most ubiquitous of plants, but its strange, violet-coloured cousin is anything but ordinary. Purple grass, with its narrow leaves sprouting directly from the ground, flourishes in sun-drenched fields. However, unlike other grasses, its roots are shallow, which begs the question: how does it garner its water and nutrients? It is speculated that the plant absorbs water from the morning dew and rainfall. As for nutrients, however, there is no agreement amongst scholars. I posit that purple grass defies convention, somehow deriving essential sustenance directly from the sunlight itself. I believe that this characteristic is the key to its extraordinary utility.

Amongst all Realida’s flora, purple grass is arguably the most coveted. Its innate ability to bind and stabilise the properties of other alchemical ingredients makes it an unparalleled base for high-quality potions. Distilling its extract is, unfortunately, quite wasteful and vast quantities of the plant are needed to produce even a modest batch. As such, any field where it grows is swiftly harvested when discovered.

Despite its value, cultivating purple grass in a controlled atmosphere has proven frustratingly elusive. My initial research had been in pursuit of an optimal reconstruction of the soil of its natural habitat. The futility of this approach led me to the conclusion that the soil itself is inconsequential to its survival. I have since turned my efforts to mimicking the sunlight under conditions of heightened elemental activity by means of carefully crafted magical disturbances. So far, the results have been equally disappointing. The enigma of purple grass persists, a puzzle that I fear will keep me occupied until my death.

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Captain Drebbin and the Thousand Nets – Part 5

With a cascading splash, the net landed in the seawater. Yerdan felt their prisoner’s eyes fixed on him. Ulf had bound the man against the ship’s main mast. Supposedly, he was the port master of some Bercusan village, though Yerdan had forgotten its name. The sunburn on his bare torso was nearly as red as the scabbed cuts left by Ulf’s persuasion tactics. According to the man, mermen frequent these waters. For his sake and the captain’s, Yerdan hoped he spoke the truth, but doubt filled his mind. Or perhaps it was worry.

From the other side of the Hauler, Ornea waved Yerdan over. His boots echoed a hollow thud with each step. A pale reminder of the empty hold, below, destined for a treasure that was never claimed. They had lost it all. Even the captain, his one constant in life, would not be spared, and now they were hunting for mermen, chasing an unlikely remedy for certain death.

“Help me with this one, will you?” Ornea held her crooked hand up to signal that she had reached her limit. Her narrow eyes, low brows, and tense neck were all too familiar for Yerdan. Her knew her well enough by now. She was worried.

Yerdan tied the end of the net to a small crane. “You don’t believe it’ll work.”

“Is that a question?”

“No.”

There was a brief silence during which her eyes darted around, as if checking for eavesdroppers. They were alone. “I don’t trust those mages.”

“Why not? The captain can walk again. Barely, but still. They did that.” Yerdan pulled on the winch to lift the net.

“Yes, and now two of them have left to get more ingredients.”

“There’s still one with the captain. Tending to him.”

“They know that they cannot help us and fear what we’ll do to them when we figure that out. Believe me, we’ll never see those two mages again. That’s why they sent us to capture a merman.”

Yerdan lowered the net into the water. The boat was now dragging it after them. “You don’t think that it can save him? I remember when my mother–”

“We all know the stories. A mermaid that was in love with a human, who found her lover murdered on the coast where they were meeting in secret.” She waved her hand around in large circles as she spoke. “In her mourning, she miraculously brought her lover back to life. How much of our hoard are we to spend on a fairytale? A legend. There is no such magic.”

“I–”

“We got something!” a sailor yelled, pulling on a crank to reel in a net.

Ornea and Yerdan ran to the net, and as they arrived, the catch was released.

Amidst the seaweed and smaller fish, she lay. Her torso, arms, and head were like any human. Yet, she had no waist or legs. In their stead was a scaly and muscular tail. She flailed it around with aggression, hurling drops of water all around her as it smashed into the wooden boards. A woven fabric was wrapped around her chest and shiny trinkets were sewn into it.

“Brigands!” she screamed. “Or poachers you must be. These waters are ours as your rulers well know.” As she spoke, loose flaps of skin in her neck fluttered up and down. “I demand that you release me at once.”

Yerdan turned to Ornea. Her eyes were wide as if she could not believe them. It was a feeling that he shared. But not Ulf. His eyes were radiant, and a grin stretched the breadth of his face.

Ulf turned to their prisoner. “Seems like you’ll live another day, port master.”

“Everyone,” a sailor called from behind. It came out like a shriek. “I think there’re two more caught in my net.”

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Religion: Creation – Part 3

Far beneath the waves slumbered the ancient regal viper in darkness. But one day, it awoke to shed its skin. For the first time, it opened its eyes and saw. It saw a blinding realm of life and death. A confusing realm of gods and monsters. A realm that it had been no part of.

The regal viper called upon the starlight and folded it into an empire of the seas, a dominion to rival the world above. A crowning achievement that threatened to overtake every other. War became inevitable. And so, the Tribunal cast the regal viper down and it was no more.

Yet one day, five sea serpents found the shed skin of the regal viper: Iaculum, Reclem, Zarnix, and the rivalrous brothers Ferlon and Oncille. They feasted on the husk of the fallen god, each consuming an aspect of its boundless ambition, birthing the five Serpents.

And so, the regal light was complete.

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Captain Drebbin and the Thousand Nets – Part 4

Yerdan paced back and forth. After the captain passed out, they returned to their home base: a bay sheltered by cliffs and forests. The base lay within a system of caves that was normally only accessible by water, were it not for the wooden bridges that led to the bay. The sloshing of waves against the cliffs and the tang of salt in the air recalled life at sea and without them, Yerdan could not sleep.

“He asked who burned the galleon,” Yerdan yelled, his voice echoing through the stone chamber that the two of them called home. A bed and wardrobe were the only furniture they had, except for a cabinet of booze. They spent most of their time at sea anyway. In the corner of the chamber stood a large chest that held their share of the spoils. Yerdan’s eyes lingered on it. It should have overflowed after today. “He wants to–”

“Will you keep your voice down?” hissed Ornea. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“You expect me to lie to him? It’s the captain.”

“He’s not going to make it. There’s no magic in this world that can save him. He’s too far gone. The only thing that telling him will accomplish is getting me killed. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Of course not, but–”

“We tell him that the Mahearean mage did it. It’s a reasonable conclusion. He set fire to our ships. He could’ve scuttled his own.”

“I…” Yerdan did not know what to think. No one would question the lie, as no one saw what happened except him and Ornea. But it was still a lie, and he owed his captain. “I don’t know, Ornea.”

“Think about it. He lost his entire fleet, and he’ll die soon. He has nothing left. Getting me killed will get him nothing, and I’ll be dead. Gone. For saving your life, Yerdan. I did it to save you. Or do you not remember closing your eyes? You gave up, but I saved you.”

That was true. She did it to save him. Maybe Captain Drebbin would understand if he explained what happened. Maybe he would see the folly of revenge. Maybe…

No, he would not. He would kill her. Perhaps torture her first. He might even blame Yerdan as well, and then they would both be dead. And the gold would still be gone. His men would still be dead. His ships would still be lost.

Was that true, or was he simply trying to convince himself? “I need to think about this.”

“I understand. Please. Just don’t do anything rash. Yea?”

“Captain Drebbin?” Yerdan entered the captain’s quarters. The captain lay upon his bed, his sheets red from his wounds. Ulf sat at his side in a cushioned armchair, his wounded shoulder dressed with a bandage.

“Come in, Yerdan,” said Ulf. His eyebrows were low, and wrinkles lined his face.

“The healers are here,” Yerdan said as he stood aside to let the three mages in. They were mercenaries, and they were each promised a small fortune for their arts. One was an alchemist, the other two battlehealers.

The mages circled around the bed and motioned for Ulf and Yerdan to give them some space to work.

“What were you and Ornea talking about?” Ulf asked.

“When?”

“The other day, in your room after we returned to base. You took off in a hurry.”

Did he know? Did he hear? “We just needed a moment alone. She wanted to be sure that I was alright.”

The alchemist shook his head. “This is beyond my abilities. Even the strongest, rarest concoctions could do no more than ease the pain.” He paused. “Or end his suffering.”

“No,” wheezed Captain Drebbin. “No death… Live. I live.”

The alchemist shared a worried look with the other two mages. “We can stop the bleeding and give you a bit of time to get your affairs in order. A month, maybe. That is all. But it will be a painful existence. Your body is failing, and there is nothing we can do to mend it.

“Well,” interjected one of the battlehealers, “there is one thing that we may try. The sooner the better. Have you heard about the strange magic that is innate to mermen?”

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Religion: Creation – Part 2

From the fallen fruits of the Decemvirate arose ten deities, each with powers unique and minds alone: Ithlyn, Berefil, Lya, Quinnbre, Kaerlyn, Whahnt, Trahlish, Yrbella, Virmite, and Releriath. Most were content with their existence, but Releriath, Whahnt, and Lya envied the Tribunal’s mastery of magic. In their longing, they moulded their own egg – a vessel of soil. When it hatched, beasts of all kinds spilled from it.

Yet, the three wielded no dominion over their creation. The beasts roamed uncontrolled, and soon, the beauty of Realida was marred by their chaos. Displeased, Balint separated life from death, and so the beasts were bound to order. But order alone could not sustain them, and extinction loomed.

Moved by pity, Ithlyn took her sickle and carved into the beasts’ flesh, thus gifting them purpose in procreation. Kaerlyn, with a berry in hand, brought them purpose in sustenance. Inspired by their compassion, Balint granted purpose in logic to those beasts he deemed worthy. And so, the beasts found balance in order and purpose.

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