Contingency

For the first time in over two weeks, seagulls soared overhead in clear blue skies. The ship creaked and groaned against the sea's soft waves. The torn sails from the violent storms the week prior fluttered in the strong eastward wind. Crude stitch work from the first shipmate's repairs should prove strong enough to hold them together for landing. Thankfully, gulls overhead meant shore was maybe hours away. Those injured below were in dire need of true medical facilities, and some of the families waiting at port would bear grim news of the few lost during the storm. This was the life of a sailor. I never did care for it. Hence why The Serpent, my ship, remained in the care of Pirate King Malachi.


"Land ho!" cried the watchman from his bird nest. The remaining crew stirred back to life, barking and chattering with one another in their simplified tongue.


I lifted my elbows from the ship's bow and turned my half blind gaze from the blue horizon toward the stairway to the cargo deck. Wary eyes traced my boots upon the swollen planks. They tried to keep their whispers and rumors quiet during the trip, but their attempts were naught. They thought me a mercenary, a killer, a bounty hunter, some so bold as to assume me a Magi Hunter. None truly knew me as the Master of the Hand, but their assumptions were not entirely incorrect. Although, I didn't paint a casual picture, given the dark leathers and strapped with killing instruments. The scar and clouded eye unsettled a few nerves by itself.


Below deck, I went to my little corner. Beside the half dozen crates of materials I brought from the mainland sat a generic linen rucksack. That's where all the important cargo was. Not jewels, nor gold, but parchments sealed with my crest. Twelve of them. As well as a freshly cast set of keys. To a curious deckhand, it was a bag of rubbish. To me, it was my life's work. I plucked it from the damp ground and slung it over my back before journeying topside.


The crew busied with full preparation. Captain Ghaul Abrams' braced boot thudded loudly against the stairs to my left. Despite how often he tried to oil the hinges of the brace, the steel always sang out in shrill notes. In the days past, I heard the drunken story at least a half dozen times. In the midst of a storm much like the one we weathered, he was cast overboard by angry waters. A coil of rope snagged him by the leg before he was lost to the sea, but in the chaos of it all, he was left to dangle against hull. The constant bashing of his body between ship and sea nearly killed him. His leg got the worst of it, but despite the damage, he refused to let them amputate. It eventually healed, but instead of a wooden stump for a leg, he now had one made from meat and metal.


"Oi, stranger." His raspy voice aimed at me. "Where d'ya think you're going? Ship won't make birth for 'nother hour or two."


Unlike his subordinates, he didn't seem phased by my appearance. Not surprising considering the various types of riff raff he employed to man his deck. We had several exchanges over the trip, but I never did give him my name. He didn't mind. The Hand kept him generously compensated for his discretion, afterall.


"I'd like to watch us make land." Normally, I wouldn't give a damn. Normally, the crew wouldn't even know I was aboard the ship. Recent events... well.


"Didn't take you for the scenic type," the captain replied. He hobbled his way beside me. The proximity made my hands itch for the comfort of a blade's hilt.


"Listen," Ghaul's voice drew low and hushed. "I've got a strong inkling of who you are, Serpent."


I kept my eyes forward, but the cool steel chilled the palm of my right hand. To think I'd have to tie up loose ends so close to shore. Then, I felt his meaty hand firmly grip my shoulder.


"Easy there, I know who fills my coffers." His words did little to relieve the tension in my body. "I'm just curious what someone of your stature is doing out this far east? Running away are you?"


If I killed him here, I'd have a crew to fight. A frigate of this size can't be manned by one person. Then again, what do I have to lose from telling him? It's at least two weeks under full sail to get back to Althanas and we had more than enough pull in Dehlos to prevent a threat there. My hand relaxed.


"The opposite." I wrapped my hand around his wrist and relieved him of my shoulder. "I'm here to take action."


Ghaul's beady eyes hid behind a lowered brow. "Are you playing coy with me?"


"No, but you don't want to pry any deeper than you already are." Keep asking questions. I'll row to shore if I have to.


"Is that a threat, boy?" I watched the sailor's hand come to rest atop his saber. My eyes locked against his and I steeled myself with the intent to kill him, and every other yellow bellied scumbag on this vessel. It wouldn't be the first time I've cleaned a ship of its crew.


The captain's stern gaze cracked at the corner of his lips and exploded into laughter. His hand paddled against my back with enough raw strength to knock some wind from my lungs.


"Alright, alright. Fair point. I won't dig any deeper. So long as the gold keeps coming, you could tell me you're here to ride the king's cock and I wouldn't give a damn!" The old seaman chuckled at the notion of his own joke. "Enjoy the view, stranger. Try not to fall overboard while you're seeing the sights!"


I didn't like him. His laughter, his confidence, and his lack of fear. It pissed me off. As he walked off to oversee his crew, I made a mental note to put him under watch. Despite my ire and his knowledge of the Hand, he could still prove useful. I cracked a faint grin at the thought. Madison would be proud.


I let my temper smolder and returned to the bow where I perched. Off in the thin line where the blue of the sea met the blue of the sky, a narrow divider of jagged earth began to grow.

Dehlos, the merchant city of Keribas. The sheer amount of people here made Radasandth look like a backwater village. Goods from all over both continents filled the stalls and moved along the streets in wagons re-purposed as mobile store fronts. Of course, the pungent aroma of horse manure remained a constant, but the fragrance and incense vendors were in no short supply either. Together, it made for a rather intoxicating aroma and not for the better.

As I descended the docking ramp, a familiar face rushed up to me from the crowd. A seemingly young fellow by the name Richktor. Blond hair, blue eyes, and covered in filthy rags, the imp looked every bit the juvenile beggar he portrayed. To think he remained immortal in such an innocent visage must be both a curse and a boon.

"Mistah, mistah!" Richktor called out. He grabbed me by the hand. "This way! This way! Mum would like to see you!"

Begrudgingly, I fell along with the ruse. We stumbled through the busy streets checking shoulders with those lacking the courtesy to move from our way. I felt my irritation pique when I caught a wry smile on the imp's face as he tugged me toward destination unknown. The little shit was getting a kick out of this.

"'Ere we are!" he called out as we both arrived in the elusive, unoccupied back alley between two pubs. Richktor turned around with a triumphant grin to which I replied in kind. Before he could so much as squeak in pain, I plunged the sharpened point of my ulna through his eye and out the back of his head. His little body seized and twitched until I ripped my bone from his skull. To his knees, then face down into the dusty cobbles he fell and only far off ruckus filled the air with white noise.

"Was it worth it?" I asked the corpse. My forearm cracked and surged until the last of bloodied ivory disappeared beneath the skin.

"I could... uhngh... ask you the same," replied the boy with a groan. Slowly, he lifted himself up. The eye and part of his brain were still visible through the clumps of red mud stuck to his face. Like watching molasses, his flesh slowly mended over the gory wounds.

"Very much so," I replied. "Now, why bring me here? I'm supposed to meet with the others."

"Now I know why Arythra calls you the Mad Dog." Almost as if to further his point, I caught myself snarling at the comment. He tried to laugh, but ended up cupping his hand over the grotesque hole in his head.

"After the recent orc attacks, the privatized mercenary police has been on high alert. We needed to change the meeting location last minute. No one knows where it is, but I was instructed to wait here for further instructions once you arrived." As he spoke, I couldn't help but notice something inscribed on the walls. Well, not carved or marked perse, but something wasn't normal. The second sight after my skirmish with Elthas in the Anti-Firmament picked up on it.

"What are you doing?" Richktor asked in his condescending, high noble tones. If he couldn't see it, then it was certainly meant just for me.

"Your boss is more clever than I give her credit for," I commented. By whatever means she used, the message was clearly out of place, and thus, my second sight could pick up on it. Instead of directions or a map, it was coordinates. We used them in Salvar quite frequently with the ravens. From an origin point, we're given direction and paces. This message, 35 degrees east of north 1550 paces -- outside of the city a fair distance.

When I turned to the immortal behind me, his raised brow and folded arms urged me to divulge more information. The wounds had completely sealed with only coagulated blood still stuck to his cheek.

"Wipe that shit off your face," I commanded. "This time, you follow me."

Getting out of the city proved more troublesome than expected. Militia police guarded all exits and the wall was heavily manned. The wall had seen better days, portions of it were in the process of being rebuilt from what looked like trebuchet fire. Each person, coming or going, required paperwork. My skillset would have proved easy enough to get me by unnoticed, but Rickhtor once again proved an obstacle. Luckily, he and Arythra were prepared. Last second, he slipped me the forged export documents for the cargo I brought from Salvar. A wagon waited for us outside the city walls. The crates of weapons, alchemical reagents, and raw materials were already packed in the cargo hold.

The journey northeast took us through The Red Barrens outside the port city. Much like Irrakam in Fallien, Dehlos was the gem in an otherwise inhospitable wasteland of rock and sand. It only makes logical sense why the roving tribes of orcs banded together to take Dehlos. Whether they survived by livestock or some manner of cannibalism, the riches and food on the other side of the wall would mean continuity of the tribes.

When we arrived at the designated location, I tied up the reigns to the wagon and took a moment to drink from my waterskin. I could see the entrance and the path to the chamber beneath us, but surely Richktor could not. Given his stunt back in the city, I still wasn't appeased with just the free lobotomy.

"Well?" asked the imp. "Are we taking a break to relieve ourselves or are we there?"

I took some of the excess water and poured a bit atop my head. The heat from the sun simmered away as my hair matted and dripped.

"Nice, waste our water too. It's not like we're out in the middle of the desert where water is plentiful." I grinned at his sarcasm. Instead of opting for a reply, I corked the skin and threw the remainder at him to catch. As he muttered something offensive, I walked up to the short cliff wall beside us and traced a marking I could see in the stones. Richktor stopped himself mid comment. The seemingly natural cliff of rock surged and shifted. It fell into itself and widened, deeper. Now, an opening large enough for our wagons and horses stood in the ground. A cool waft of air washed over us as I saddled back into the driver's seat.

"You're an immortal, stop bitching about water," I stated dryly then cracked the reigns. I didn't need to see the glare the imp was burrowing into my skull. Immortal or not, dying of thirst would be a terrible way to go. Especially, if you can't die.

As we traveled underground, the mechnized doorway behind us began to close. For a moment, we were thrust into darkness until our vision adjusted to the torchlight further down. We spiraled deeper and deeper until voices echoed our way and the path opened into a cavern. Easily, a couple dozen people greeted us with weapons either drawn or hands atop hilts -- a precautionary measure, but one quickly dismissed as they recognized the two of us. Several men made a point to quickly flank the wagon before we pulled aside. They feverishly checked the cargo area for stow aways and under the carriage until they were satisfied.

"You're late," a stern woman's voice called out from the crowd. "Several days late."

"My apologies," I returned. "Ran into some bad weather at sea."

"I'm aware." Arythra stepped forward from the others, most of them: faces I recognized. "Captain Abrams sent word ahead of you."

So that explains how he knew so much. It seems Arythra didn't trust my own payment would be enough to keep his lips sealed. Either it was smart on her behalf, or Ghaul worked both sides for the extra coin. Either way, it took care of one loose end.

"Anything else you'd like to tell me before we begin?" My irritation grated on my words. I didn't like being left in the dark. We were considered somewhat equal in station, but I ran this operation. I deserved to know.

"You're in my territory now, Ulroke. I'll tell you what you need to know. Nothing more." I narrowed my clouded gaze on her.

Arythra turned her back before I could threaten her as I'm sure she expected, but the threat would be empty. She knew her worth to the cause. They all did. Unlike the Seventh Sanctum, these people weren't expendable and nor could they be dispatched so easily. See, Arythra "The Word" Vallahiem was the most well known of all us. She had a strong economic presence in Dehlos, but like she withheld information from me, she withheld it from the whole city. Well loved and respected by most, she worked with me to realize a shared goal.

"Everyone!" she barked. "Now that Master Ulroke has arrived, we can begin. Please take your seats."

(Deets about the room, Lye speaks, start introducing the other ten as they discuss.)