Chapter 3
The Pirate’s Cove
The party traveled into the countryside throughout the rest of the afternoon. The grassy plains were without trail, save those made by animals, as though the citizens of Oascera never left the city. They stayed close to the shore of the river, not wanting to get turned around in unfamiliar wilderness where there were no signs of human travel to guide them.
Jamesin and Kay, energized by the short battle on the outskirts of town, explained their martial techniques to one another as the group walked. Richard could see them demonstrating different strikes for one another, and sometimes they would stop to exhibit a stance.
Norial had removed a massive leather-bound book from his back and began studying it intently along the way. This distraction caused him to trip often in the uneven terrain.
Richard kept his eyes open for a suitable campsite once they had put enough distance between themselves and Oascera. Traveling through the wilderness like this, on sudden notice and without much idea of where to go next, brought back fond memories of the days spent with Iald. Back then, Iald and he had blazed trails all across Eddias. There had been no destination too distant for that woman, and no evil too powerful for the faithful of Sif to overcome.
The sun was beginning to set, throwing shimmers across the surface of the river and painting the sky brilliant pinks and purples. Ahead, a rocky outcrop stuck up from the surrounding plain, throwing a lengthening shadow out to shelter the companions from the blaze of the dying sun. The dark, aged stone surface was craggy, offering many overhands and protected niches.
Kay motioned toward the outcrop. “That will be a good place to camp; should shelter us from the wind, if it picks up tonight.”
Everybody was tired and hungry, looking forward to sitting down in front of a fire. The last stretch of land between them and the spire of ancient stone seemed to be endless. In their fatigue, everyone walked slumped, staring at their own feet as they trudged on.
Richard looked up as they neared the precipice, the sun having finished its decent. Now Richard could see a cave burrowed into the side of the stone, illuminated from within by flickering torchlight.
Richard stopped immediately. “Wait,” he said to the others in a hushed tone. He pointed up to the cave. “There is somebody up there.”
“Let us approach cautiously, then,” Kay said, leading them behind a knoll.
Using the darkness, the lay of the land, and the scraggy shrubs finding purchase on the rocky ground near the outcrop, the group crept up near the cave. Try as he might to move silently, Richard’s armor clanked on the way up the hillside.
Huddled next to each other, the four companions laid flat on their bellies, watching the cave entrance some twenty paces away. Kay quietly pointed out a man obscured by the shadows guarding the entrance. It took Richard’s eyes a few moments to detect the man; only a bit of movement gave him away.
Norial leaned toward Richard, “Pirates!” he whispered excitedly in Richard’s ear.
They inched closer, holding their breaths. Richard could see the man better now. He did appear to be a pirate, wearing a filthy military-style red long coat with looped buttons, knee-high boots, and a triangular hat with a broad brim. A cutlass adorned his hip, along with a variety of daggers. He wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings; the man leaned back against the rock surface next to the cave, his fingers idly playing with a coin. Obviously, he expected no trouble.
This is an opportunity to make a strike against these vile criminals that have corrupted Oascera, Richard thought. He slowly and silently slung his crossbow from off his back. Obscured by the tall grass and bush that huddled in the shadow of the craggy rock megalith, and knowing this pirate was not keeping a disciplined watch, Richard was not very concerned about being seen. Taking great care to make as little noise as possible, he intently drew the crossbow’s drawstring, loaded a bolt, and took aim.
Holding his breath, Richard readied to send this wicked thief to the final judgment.
Suddenly, the bowstring broke apart to the sound of a loud snap as the explosive tension was released uselessly.
The pirate on guard stood bolt upright, looking in the direction of the companions. His hand went to his sword, as the coin he had been playing with fell to the ground, forgotten.
Norial leapt up from his hiding place and rushed toward the guard while drawing his glaive with the fluid grace of the elven-kind. He swept the butt end of his glaive out to catch the feet of his foe. The pirate guard went down on his back hard, the air driven from his lungs producing a shuddered call of help–a call that was cut short by surprise and pain as the blade of Norial’s glaive pierced his chest.
The burst of movement and violence was suddenly replaced by dead stillness. The companions all remained motionless, listening.
Then a gruff voice rang out from within the cave, followed closely by the scratching of boots against stone. “You say something, Sorik?”
Jamesin, Kay, and Richard sprang up from the grassy hillside running, and pressed themselves against the wall adjacent to the mouth of the cave. Norial did the same on the opposite side of the entrance, the glaive in his hands drooling dark blood from its blade. Richard saw that the elf wore an amused smile.
The footsteps grew quicker as they approached, the pirate from within the cave having caught site of his fallen comrade’s corpse laying at the opening.
“We must do something before he raises alarm,” Kay whispered, barely loud enough for Richard to understand.
Richard nodded his head in acknowledgement. With his hands, he made the opening motions of a spell while making silent prayer to Sif.
As the second pirate emerged from the cave, Richad had only to reach out and touch him. Clasping the man’s shoulder firmly, he spoke the final words of the spell in the Celestial language. “Siv’elani Desceishi!”
Threads of black energy arced between Richard and the pirate, like a crackling of lightning. Soundlessly the pirate shuddered in pain before collapsing dead, life-devouring negative energy having been channeled directly into his flesh.
Richard released his grip when the man ceased to support himself. His hand throbbed painfully with the foul touch of the negative energy. Jamesin and Kay looked to him with surprise, unsure of what they had seen. Norial, however, was unimpressed with the display of magical power–he had said he was from Naivorei, after all, a land famed for its proliferation of magic.
“I didn’t realize we ‘ad a mage wit us,” Jamesin commented.
Richard shook his head, “My powers are divine, not sorcerous.”
Norial rolled over the body of the second pirate with his foot, looking down at the dirt-caked face frozen in surprise. “Different means to the same end.”
After quickly digging through the pockets of the two dispatched pirates and finding nothing of value, the party decided to investigate the cave. Richard was hopeful this was the beginning of his crusade against the criminal syndicates that beleaguered the area, but wondered why the others would go along with him in this. Norial, most assuredly, was only interested in having an adventure. Jamesin and Kay did have reason to seek vengeance against the pirates who had brought them to Oascera against their will, and perhaps any pirate was a worthy enough scapegoat for them. But Richard found that hard to believe of the jovial human and serene fey.
The interior of the cave was brightly lit with hissing torches. Norial led the way, his glaive in hand, ready to strike. Richard had unsheathed his sword, placing the useless crossbow across his back. The wet, slimy rock walls glistened in the fluttering light, and dank gusts of air blew past them occasionally as the four warriors descended into the cavern. They moved carefully and quietly, but heard nothing ahead except for the rushing of wind.
After a ways, the cave opened wider and wider as they progressed, still illuminated by numerous torches. Tables, chairs, and barrels littered the open area. An unfinished card game and empty clay mugs covered one table. Each man searched through the contents of the barrels, but found only unappetizing foodstuffs and glass bottles of liquor. Jamesin took some time to sniff the contents of each bottle. Most he sat aside, uninterested, but a few of them caused his eyebrows to rise in surprised elation. These he poured into a few of the metal flasks from his belt. After he replaced them carefully, the group began moving again.
Soon the tunnel they traveled in opened into an immense cavern. They found themselves perched upon a ledge overlooking a hollow that constituted much of the volume of the rock spire. Roughly circular, the cavern opened to the river on the side opposite the companions. A path cut into the sheer walls of the cave lead from their perch down to a flat shelf of stone only a few feet above the surface of the black water that flooded into the cavern from the river. A make-shift wooden dock extended out over the water from the shelf, where a thirty foot long sailed vessel was moored. Despite many torches burning around the dock and the cliff path, darkness loomed heavily in the broad space.
Richard could see well enough to count thirteen men below. Two appeared to be captives, sitting with their backs against the mast of the small ship, their arms stretched back as if tied together. Nine men, all appearing much like the guards the party had dispatched outside, were unloading crates from the ship. Another man standing on the bow of the vessel appeared to be in charge, monitoring the others. The last man was almost impossible to see in the darkness from this distance, however. He stood motionless off the side of the working men, clad from head to toe in a black cloak, his arms crossed and feat planted tightly together.
Crouched against the rock walls, the party tenderly made their way onto the cliff path. Kay pointed down to the pirates’ prisoners. “We should help those men,” he whispered.
“Ay,” Jamesin agreed, “but that’s a lot o’ men ta be fight’n.”
Richard’s mind raced, trying to conjure a clever plan to rescue the prisoners. But before any idea could form, Norial was already on his way down the path, glaive in hand.
“We can beat them,” the elf whispered over his shoulder, brimming with confidence.
