Chapter VI - Ghastly Wail

 

  The walk didn’t bring any surprises on the way. Their trio, followed by sailors from docked ships (including the Morning Star) strolled forward. Joe quickly got used to the humid and warm sensation of the local air.

  They came up to the carved stairs. Joe glanced up and noticed a white ray of light, coming from the exit above.

  He climbed up the stairs and witnessed a dazzling scene.

  The afternoon sun hit his eyes with the force of a cannonball. Joe stumbled back, stopping inches before the stairs he just climbed up.

  Right in the middle of the enormous steaming lake, a fortress stood. Its grey wall brooded over the blue mirror of the water, enveloping the lake in its shadow.

  The towers were peeking from behind the wall, with embrasures and windows.

  That was definitely not what Joe expected to see. He was imagining a small settlement or a camp, with wooden huts or houses being the peak level of modernity.

  Those pirates are sure taking their job seriously, my guy.

  Yeah, no shit.

  Joe glanced at the sky and shielded his eyes with his hand.

  Now, it wasn’t the sky itself that was all that exciting. It had your basic soft blue plastered on it. No, Joe remembered another little fact. Before the sight of the massive structure distracted him, there was something else worth mentioning…

  “How deep are we, again?”

  He could feel Ralf grinning behind his back.

  “A kilometer at most,” Xander answered instead. “Around a dozen on both sides. What’s wrong? Is something off?”

  This cheeky attitude was definitely new. When did he even upgrade his character from ‘straightforward as a stick’ to ‘Why, I see no problem here, no sir!’?

  Joe sighed. There were a few explanations for this phenomenon, definitely.

  The sweat streamed down his face. The stifling air and high temperature were getting to him.

  “Is this a Magic in action? Illusion? No way one can see the sky through the land without some kind of trick. Where is the fog, by the way?”

  The quartermaster smiled with one corner of his mouth.

  “Who knows? Why don’t you try to figure out this mystery yourself? I’ll give you hint - there is a Mage on the island.”

  ‘…But whether he is the cause of it or not, that’s up to you to figure out’ - Joe could practically hear the unspoken words.

  Well, if Xander suddenly decided to play some weird games with him, he wasn’t against it. Exploration and investigation served as baits for inquisitive minds for a very good reason.

  They picked up the pace. Joe even caught himself running a few times.

  Anything to get away from the searing heat of the lake.

  The exit from the cave was connected to a stone bridge with no railings, fences, or walls of any kind. Of course, the concept of ‘safety’ would not be included in the Pirate Codex - if Ghastly Wail even had one.

  …Or so Joe wanted to think, but the sight of the massive wall without a single crack or patch of mold showing up on the surface overruled his previous line of thought. Surely they could have made bridges way safer if they wanted to, right?…

  With the background thoughts nagging him throughout, Joe, Ralf and Xander reached a door, carved in the gates. The gates were exactly big enough to allow one motor truck through.

  Not a single guard in sight. Seeing as the only available road was the bridge they just crossed, maybe the local thug service was feeling safe enough with a bunch of towers around the perimeter.

  Ralf pulled the door.

  And as he did that, they heard a thunderous shot somewhere ahead.

  “Shootout in my hub?!”

  Xander shook his head.

  “No, don’t think so. Remind me - this is 19th of July, right?”

  The look of utter disappointment appeared on Ralf’s face.

  “Right, the Mad Festival… No wonder we have more fools around than usual. My mind can’t keep up these days, it seems. Is your guy around?”

  Xander grabbed a person from a small group nearby. Said person was a rhevalian. The bright orange fur covered him or her; the gruesome stitch on the right hand (paw?) made Joe wince. This rhevalian had a noticeable lack of tufts on ears and a smaller tail.

  “Zanny!” the rhevalian shouted. The coarse voice grazed Joe’s ears. “We haven’t seen each other in months, eh?! Where have your arse been?”

  The tone undoubtedly belonged to a female, despite the rough timbre. Joe also picked on the fact that she was straining her voice each time she tried to raise it even by the slightest amount.

  “Iliana…” he tried to lightly push her off. “I’m looking for Hans. The merchant, who sells ship materials? Remember?”

  The orange rhevalian pouted and took a step back.

  “Of course. He isn’t here. What, your ancient vessel is doing its thing again?”

  Xander sighed.

  “Something like that. Doesn’t matter, then. Who else is on the island?”

  Iliana spread her arms in the stock pose of ‘I dunno’.

  “Our crew got here just this morning. We only ever saw folks from the ‘Bloody Bane’ and the ‘Thresher Hunter’.”

  The quartermaster looked to the side.

  “Thank you, Iliana. Your help is appreciated.”

  Joe heard Ralf snicker behind his back. Xander waved to them both and continued moving. Joseph threw one last glance at the fuming orange dragoncat and joined his companions.

  “Quite a hot day today, kid. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” Joseph chuckled.

   Groups of people were roaming the spaces between stone houses, wooden structures, random tents, and occasional merchant stalls. The atmosphere was overflowing with chatter and laughing. Joe expected to see your stereotypical drunk pirates stumbling around, puking and expressing themselves in unsavory ways, but his exceptions suffered a crushing defeat. Even if some people were not of a stable mind, they acquitted themselves quite well or had their mates to keep a watch on them.

  Joe glanced around. He noticed a few individuals on the sides, who stood on roofs, balconies, and other observation spots, blatantly watching over the streets.

  “Local thug guards?” He nodded to Ralf.

  The cook gave him thumbs-up.

  “Precisely. Don’t stare at them too much, they are ironically shy. Just keep your head high and sight keen.”

  “Iron-ically shy, huh…”

  Ralf grinned. Joe turned away from the local guards.

  “Where are we going, Xander?”

  “’Rattlebones’. A tavern. The only tavern in this place, really. Since Hans is not here, might as well use some time for ourselves. Up for a break, you savage void rats?”

  “Are there any actual void rats?”

  Xander snorted.

  “But of course. They can eat the entire island inside out if you let the pack grow. They can also fly and deafen you with their sound waves. So, you know - you see one, burn them all with vigour. The Threshold will only be better for it.”

  They passed underneath an archway and ended up at the edge of a large open area. Joe scanned a tall statue in the middle.

  The statue depicted a two-legged person (or a creature?) with four hands, who was sitting on a chair. The chair had the bare minimum - four legs and a backrest, nothing special.

  The person was reading a book with its upper-right hand. The upper-left hand had scales and was drooping to the ground.

  A sword and a rifle were leaning on a chair on opposite sides, ready to be taken by this mysterious person at any moment. The old, weary armor enclosed whoever this statue was representing within, hiding his face and profile from the world.

  “That’s one very well-made statue. Who is this?”

  Xander pondered for a second before his head turned to the aforementioned object.

  “This? Oh. You are looking at the most favourite curse word in the entire Empire. This ancient bastard still holds the hearts of sailors, even after his temples and shrines were torn down by the previous Emperor, with a determination worthy of the Mad King himself. Joe, meet Kon’jar. Kon’jar, this is Joe, but I think you are aware of that already.”

  The jovial tone of the quartermaster made Joe think that the dragoncat was quite fond of this 'Kon’jar' fellow.

  “Is he a hero of some kind?”

  “Aim higher," Xander pointed his fingers at the skies. "That’s Deity you are talking about here. ‘The One who Annihilates Armies, Carries Judgement, But Never Hurts an Innocent.’ Deity of War, Judgement, and Fairness, in all of Its ever-present glory. Used to be the symbol of the Tribunal, before the previous Emperor squelched the religion.”

  A Deity… The word that carried an empty meaning for him. Religion was the subject Joe would prefer to lock at an edge of his mind and never think about again. The blind faith was not a line in his job resume, that’s for sure.

  Was it the same for this world? Joe had enough evidence that Magic existed. Why not Deities?

  “Can you talk to them?”

  Ralf glanced at him from the side.

  “Talk to who, kid?”

  Joe pointed at the statue. Xander grimaced.

  “Of course, by all means. I don’t know what you are trying to get from it, but no one’s stopping you. Maybe It’ll answer. I wouldn’t bother.”

  Joseph shrugged and waved his hand. This was a statue, not a shrine. Statues don't talk.

  “Maybe some other time… Let’s get to ‘Rattlebones’”.

  The tavern, despite its name, wasn’t afraid of showing off its sturdy brick walls that were blinding Joe with reflected sunlight. Three floors of the building stood proud, inviting the most despicable outsiders of society inside.

  For a pirate hideout, the entire Ghastly Wail looked too well-crafted and maintained. Joe could see it having a good appeal as a tourist destination in the far future.

  When Xander pushed the double door in, the tavern blitzed Joseph with the furious smell of apples, cooked beef, and alcohol. The floor sternly creaked underneath his boots. A group of grizzled thugs was singing in a far corner near the bar stand, filling the place with their surprisingly deep and synchronized performance. Joe even stopped at the entrance for a full minute; then he caught himself nodding his head along with the rhythm.

  Xander lifted his hand up and approached a table between the windows, with Joe and Ralf following. There, underneath the soothing shadow, Joe noticed two colorful individuals.

  One was a grimly smiling tall man in his thirties, who was rocking a bushy black beard and wearing a tricorne. He emptied his cup in a second and reached his hand for a bottle that was standing in the middle of the table. On the opposite side of this man, a rhevalian was staring down another cup. His, or hers, orange fur didn’t mesh well with the pale walls of the tavern, making Joe’s eyes hurt.

  Both of them nodded as the trio approached the table.

  “Quite an unusual situation to see you here. I thought you were still laying low in Lower Reaches. What changed?”

  The man with a black beard pushed these words out like he was a priest in a church, extorting the confessor for money after hearing about his heinous crimes. His rhevalian partner was piercing Ralf with his (or hers) eyes, not saying a word. The tufts on the ears of the orange dragoncat leaned backwards, the long tail shivered.

  “We’ve had some discoveries recently,” Xander shrugged. “Would you like to discuss?”

  The orange dragoncat and the man glanced at each other. The rhevalian nodded.

  Ralf didn’t say a word throughout this short exchange of words, but Joe caught him looking at the bearded man’s partner. A shadow of contempt crept in his posture.

  The cook peered at Joseph with the corner of his eye and assumed a casual pose.

  The singers stepped down from the short improvised podium. A group of armed people took their spot, bringing a drum with a wooden carcass, some kind of string instrument, another string instrument (resembling a ukulele), and a wooden flute.

  Smooth but fierce music filled the ‘Rattlebones’. Joe couldn’t tell the genre, although as long as the rhythm was there, he was fine with anything.

  He and Ralf pushed three more chairs closer to the table, just when Xander slammed three bottles down. He then gave them their cups and lowered himself down into his chair, gesturing his companions to do the same.

  The drumming in the background picked up the pace. Ralf and the orange rhevalian were sitting a hair’s length away from each other. The ‘neighbours’ shared one long look and wordlessly grabbed two bottles off the table to fill their cups.

  The black-bearded man was staring at Joe the whole time. Joseph ignored his gaze with all his might.

  He heard a barking laugh.