86.

Author's Note: I finished the chapter, and it turned into twins!  Hope the double-chapter makes up some for my recent quietness.

86.

“Please extend my breakfast invitation to Captain Jarek.”

“He won’t like that.”

“So long as he keeps his opinions to himself, we won’t need to have a repeat of yesterday. Invite him up.”

Arnnaith scurried off to fulfill my order, but I noticed that he enlisted Tarball before going belowdecks. The smart lad was bringing backup.

In the days following our rescue of the whaling ship, I’d taken to inviting the other Captain on board to join me for breakfast. Why? Well as much as I’d like to say that I saw the tradition exemplified during my stint with the navy or previously on my voyages before the curse, the truth was I’d read about it in stories. In The travels of Jordan Voyager Jordan was always invited to dine with the Captain at one point or another; usually whenever the Captain was going to confide in him some secret relevant to his next adventure.

I shared no secrets with Captain Jarek and my evenings were reserved for my officers – time permitting – so I invited Jarek up for an early morning breakfast. I’d rarely ever sat down for breakfast, though, and didn’t start now that I always had something else to be doing. Jarek would join me on the quarterdeck and eat the same food I did while we stood on our sea legs.

If he was very rude, then he got some hardtack to gnaw on. If he was acting like a child throwing a tantrum amidst his crew because of my invitation, then I’d have Gnar lead some orcs below to frog march him out and stand frighteningly close while he tried to gnaw on his hardtack.

Not that the esteemed Captain Jarek would need such measures. Certainly not twice.

Why did I keep doing it? The fantasy of tradition was only part of it. Another part was that while he was an excitable, domineering yet stupid fellow, he was also going to be the one everyone questioned when I dropped him off and the story got out.  While my reputation with the wider world couldn’t get much more tarnished, I hoped to send out a different message. I didn’t need a ringing endorsement from Jarek, but if he told just most of the truth than the more intelligent listeners would understand exactly how gracious I’d been.

It was also a power move. Jarek was fighting to keep his men under his thumb, and summoning him as I pleased dispelled the notion that he could stand in defiance of me.

I hadn’t interacted with his crew, but they seemed to be much more reasonable than their leader. I hadn’t extended my offer to join my crew because at this point, I felt they’d have to earn it. I allowed them to walk the decks when we were topside so long as they were supervised, but all had proven too timid to ask about lending a hand with the lines, much less approach me.

Arnnaith and Tarball returned with Jarek, the man giving sullen looks at his half-elf and Halfling escorts, but he was compliant today. That meant he got bread, jerky and cheese. I’d had hardtack handy too.

The bread was made from our hardtack stores; Gerald got some help smashing and grinding the tough biscuits down into a flour and remade them in flat loaves that didn’t take a high Constitution to gnaw through. The cheese was from our stores, it was a favorite for going well with everything and kept nicely. The jerky was made from the kappa that we’d saved Jarek from, in the days immediately after the rescue processing and storing our kills had taken up all our spare time.

They weren’t the only monsters we’d encountered. Several monsters we passed but didn’t engage because they were a bad match for our fighters and we still lacked artillery – though we had rescued some nice harpoons from the sinking whaling vessel. One that we did engage two days ago would haunt my dreams – not because it was some eldritch abomination but because it was a Captain’s worst nightmare.

It was a turtle, but sized up to about 10 tons and having a coral reef of a shell. There was an ecosystem of weaker creatures living around it and symbiotically caring for the turtle. All in all, an apparently amazing creature that Rhistel advocated against touching.

So why did I order that it be culled?

Because after 9 hours of being in sight of the creature, it only swam at one depth: right below the water. Right at a depth where the moving fortress it carried along was invisible, but would easily tear open any ship. The creature had carried the caution sailors rightly had for shallower waters out to the deep blue, and I couldn’t stand it!

The ensuing fight showed that while the turtle lacked mobility, it was anything but a gentle giant. The symbiotes living in its coral shell were much more numerous than initially apparent and once provoked they erupted from their home like bees from a hive. Through some connection the turtle controlled or influenced the swarm, playing general and directing the smaller creatures to act abnormally strategic.

The swarm was still vulnerable to sonic attacks though, and while we didn’t have many ballistae we were able to fling enough sonic bolts to stun parts of the swarm and trim it down. Once bereft of its minions, the turtle had limited means to strike back. Plenty of defensive measures; but we could follow it to any depth and take as much time as we needed to break through its armor.

The creature was harvested, its useful components stored for Mouse and its tasty meat feasted on before also being stored. The coral shell was left to sink to the bottom where it would sink no ships, though a few scraps of coral were kept as mementos. Maybe with a handful of proof the landlubbers would even believe Jarek telling the story.

“How far from land would you say we are? Two days?” Jarek asked, belatedly adding “Captain.”

“That’s accurate, yes.” I answered. Jarek’s profession was that of a specialized harpooner. He was not only a deadly throw, he could buff his attacks into something magnitudes more powerful using mana that most people were never able to consciously manipulate. It was a useful and highly desired profession. I’d been encouraged to follow a similar path earlier in my life.

An excellent harpooner, but Jarek was only a basic seaman. He could work with that if he got help that could shore up his lack of skill, but that hadn’t happened for the same reason I suspected he wasn’t on a highly-paid whaling expedition right now: the man was a pain in the scrot. There was only so much personality that Captains would put up with for a specialized professional. Jarek had decided that he had the skill to strike out on his own and run his own crew. He’d added his deficiencies as a leader to his sub-par seamanship skills.

So I’d been surprised when his estimates of the Internment’s progress were accurate. Most would assume the hulk could cover more ground than she really could. Which was true when I wasn’t depending on the winds, but I’d spent most of the last days topside, keeping an eye out. Jarek had an accurate impression of the ship’s speed because he was thinking of it as though she was being sailed without any expertise or efficiency bonuses at all! The thought made me shudder. Without skilled crew or an experienced leader … his ship must’ve crawled along the whole voyage!

One more reason to get the man off my ship. But I was polite in my interactions with him nonetheless. Even if I allowed Gnar to loom sometimes.

“Any change in plans for returning us?”

“No. I will drop you ashore n more than a day’s travel from a settlement.”

He grumbled but I ignored it. He’d demanded to be returned directly to his home port north of Dagat, which I refused. I wasn’t his ferry service. Then he demanded I take him to Dagat itself, which was even more preposterous! I well remembered the massive artillery pieces lining the cliffs that protected that harbor. If I was to ever infiltrate that place, it would be with a nimble ship, not a hulk.

Two days after that conversation he was able to hold a rational conversation again. Semi-rational, anyway. He couldn’t understand that I would not take the Internment directly into any port – Andros was now part of Makam, and I didn’t know what kind of defenses or countermeasures they’d deploy if I was so foolish as to beach my ship on their doorstep. No, I’d do as I said and take them to shore, but they’d have to return to civilization on their own two feet!

After our brief interaction, we didn’t speak any more. I spoke with others in my crew, giving orders or lessens while being available for anything people wanted to bring up to me. Following my time with Hali, I was much more alert to various personal or cultural needs amongst my crew. While I’d felt some stubbornness, I found that most things incorporated themselves very well into my own expectations. Varinya’s subconscious attachment to a pack structure wasn’t so different from a human’s perception of a hierarchy. The chortin need to feel the sun on their hide was as valid as the tarish quirk of spending time aloft where they could feel the air.

So while I made only a few slight changes to how I handled things, my awareness was noted and morale bumped up slightly. That was all the positive reinforcement I needed. My crew were happy, they wanted to be sailing with me!

There were some things I didn’t implement. For instance it was a Halfling custom to have a smorgasbord of meals throughout the day. I typically circumnavigated that issue since Tarball wanted to be in Gnar’s warband, and the orc got a sadistic grin whenever the fellow was too obvious in his comfort. Fellowship, however; the sense of community in shared dining, feasting and partying … that was not for me to indulge in with my crew. So, there was a cultural barrier that I couldn’t meet Tarball with halfway.

So I looked for other ways Hali mentioned that I could show the guy I had his back.

When I dismissed Jarek and asked Arnnaith and Tarball to show him below, the imprudent Captain muttered a slur to Tarball about being “half-cast.”

Instantly evaluating my options, I judged that the positive testimony I was hoping for from Jarek on land was of dubious value, and short of flattery from the get-go there was no way to salvage any kind of positive relationship with the man. I sacrificed my hopes of a human mending my worldwide reputation and instead thought about what was best for my crew.

The satisfaction of it would be secondary.

Two seconds after the slur had left Jarek’s lips, I’d crossed the distance between us, kicked the back of his leg to buckle his knee, and boxed his ears with the smallest thunderclap I could manage. Between the spell making a critical hit and my dirty fighting skill, he had debuffs to deal with for several minutes. His hands started to reach towards his head, then he tottered on his knees and toppled to the deck on his side.

“You will not disrespect my crew aboard my ship,” I said to Jarek. It was lost on him, still stunned. Clearing my throat, I addressed Tarball. “Mr. Stoutfoot, if you would please see Captain Jarek below when he recovers? Please be gentle with him, I’ve manhandled him enough.”

Tarball had grown a cheeky grin. “Righto!” he said, bobbing on his toes and popping a salute. When he thought I wasn’t looking, he stuck his tongue out at the downed Captain, but otherwise led him below without any other incident.

“You could burst a mans’ eardrums using thunderclap like that,” Marcus said, joining me on the quarterdeck.

“I’ve been practicing my control with all my spells, I might just add a few more to my list soon.”

“Perhaps I should say you could burst a man’s eardrums just by boxing his ears?”

“His Constitution isn’t that weak. Even if he did lose hearing, I’d not regret it.”

Marcus shrugged. “Sticking up for your crew is admirable, but know that they’re not alsways going to be in the right and you’re not always going to satisfy them.”

“That wasn’t abut satisfying Tarball – that was about showing him I had his back.”

“I’ve heard you use the rough side of your tongue – you could have dressed Jarek down without spells. Maybe a bit of mental trauma, though,” Marcus said, rubbing at the beard he was re-cultivating with a stump. “I suppose it’s hard to say which was the lesser evil.”

“A tongue lashing wouldn’t have been as cathartic.”

Marcus snapped his fingers. “There’s the honesty! Don’t think I’m moralizing to you, lad, I’m not one to take the high road when there’s a straight one right before me, but I do have a thing about those in charge abusing those they hold captive.” He held up his twin stumps as illustration. He’d gotten by with using a telekinetic spell and Jorgagu was working on enchanted prosthetics, but he bore the marks of his captivity and abuse. “There’s a difference between using force on a man who can fight or walk away, and a man you hold in your power.”

“I hear your point. It’s something I’ll try to keep in mind.”

“Don’t lose any sleep over it.” Marcus said with a shrug. “So I imagine you’ve talked about it with your officers, but mind sharing with me what your plan is once you drop the annoying ones off? Are we just patrolling the coasts?”

I glanced around to make sure no ears were present which I did not wish to hear my plans. Seeing none, I still dropped my voice. “We will still hunt for monsters, but I have a destination in mind. Or rather, a grid that we’ll need to search.”

“A grid to search? What are you hoping to find?”

“A shipwreck,” I replied simply.

Marcus mouthed an “ah” and nodded.

I hadn’t made any secret of my dislike for the hulk, however useful its durability was. For a time, however, I could continue to maintain it along with the other ship I planned to raise.

Not long now …

As we neared shore, we encountered more creatures but they weren’t of the deep sea variety. Like how the tide was a shifting border to the sea, the saltwater wasn’t a firm boundary for the higher level creatures. Amphibians were here, in levels, strength and numbers too high to be an anomaly.

“The coast is always an area teeming with life,” Rhistel said as we passed a spyglass back and forth, looking at the distant shore from the forecastle. “But this … increased mana density must have a nutritional impact! I thought as much when we’ve eaten our own game, yet there can be no other reason for predators to be in such numbers, for prey to have not stripped the area bare …”

“I’m following what you’re saying, Rhistel, but it’s like following a schooner in a high storm.”

“Apologies, allow me to elaborate. Herbivores need a certain amount of range to sustain themselves – space to grow, yes, but also enough food. There are far more here than there should be, which would be an ecological disaster that would create barren zones if their numbers weren’t curtailed.

“Yet, plant life is flourishing! I can only deduce that there is an increase in ambient mana that is impacting the nutritional quality of their food, so they do not require the same quantity.”

“But the numbers will attract more predators to the human shores.”

“Yes, but the numbers of carnivores are also far higher than they should be, yet the herbivore population remains enlarged.”

“The prey animals are also supplying more nutrition.”

“Precisely! I’ll have to make some extended observations, but I can also work with Gerald to conduct some dietary tests amongst our own crew to verify …”

“Bloody weeping salt spray!” Jarek cursed from the quarterdeck, someone had loaned him a spyglass and he had his eye on the shore as well before he stormed across the deck to us. “Captain! You can’t seriously go through with your plan to put us on shore? We’ll be torn to ribbons in minutes! There’s an infestation, I tell you!”

“Pipe down, Captain. Arnnaith, your assessment on a landing zone, please.”

Arnnaith glanced up at me before taking the spyglass from Rhistel. Rhistel didn’t wait a moment before grabbing the spyglass from Jarek, who was so red in the face he didn’t even notice until the elf had already focused on the horizon.

“Seaborn …”

“My title is Captain, Mr. Jarek. If anyone here has earned the title it’s me. Now hold your tongue while we assess the situation. Trust me, I have no desire to carry you lot to shore only to have you die on delivery. Arnnaith?”

The boy knew that I wasn’t asking him as a nautical test, but as a genuine request of his tactician skill. He had leveled it some working with Gnar, and while the orc was still the better battlefield commander by far, the half-elf boy could at least match him in strategic thinking.

“There,” he pointed. “Southern side of that spit.”

“We wouldn’t be able to take the ship within a half mile – there’s a sandbar forming.”

“Alternatively,” he said and pointed at a location a few miles down. “More sand than gravel there with good visibility on an empty beach.”

I nodded. “Please get Gnar and Drese.”

He handed the spyglass off to me and scampered away. I joined Rhistel in analyzing the site, the both of us ignoring Jarek.

“What do you think?” I asked the elf.

“Call me paranoid, but that wide empty beach looks suspicious.”

“I thought so too. Any idea why the rocks would be covered in those giant lizards and nothing along the beach?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of rational explanations. I simply fear that it’s the territory of some other creature because that’s the trend things seem to be going towards.”

“We’re jinxed,” I muttered. Gnar came striding up behind us, sparing only a passing glare for the whaling Captain.

“We’re planning a landing?”

“Gnar, there’s supposed to be a road about 6 miles inland, it runs north to Dagat. What is your opinion on escorting Captain Jarek and his men that distance and returning?”

“I’d say easily done, but there’s a reason you’re asking. Mind if I look?” Rhistel handed him the spyglass and the orc spent several minutes watching the shoreline before he growled a low, animalistic grumble. “I bet you humans wish you had the cliffs of Bandarn now. If this isn’t just a surge you’ll be hiding behind walls within a year.”

“You practiced storming a beach, but an escort through unknown territory is something different.”

“That jungle doesn’t look welcoming, I’ll give you that. To take 15 weaklings … only 6 miles, though …”

“Arnnaith suggested that point as a landing zone,”

“Then he still has something to learn!” The orc said, flashing a competetive smile down at the half-elf. “Just south of that spit is clearly the better site.”

“As I told him,” I said, not hiding my amusement, “there’s a sandbar that prevents the Internment from getting close. The current would also hinder the boats, pushing them towards the lizards southward.”

Gnar grumbled and glassed the coast for another minute before he huffed. “The boy has the right of it, then, though I’d rather sail the coast for a better spot.”

“And we can do so. However, the jungle gets denser further south. Northward turns into crags that house wyverns.”

“Better to do it here and be done with it, then.” He said. “Hacking through unknown jungle can take too long, and getting pinned down by wyverns nearly guarantees losses.”

“Captain,” Drese interjected. “I remain at your service, but my presence with the escort could assure that no injuries slowed down the group. My summons could also prove worthy scouts.”

“I think we can manage in your absence, Drese. We will storm the beach in force and establish a beachhead before you two escort the whaling crew to the road. From the road, Captain Jarek, you and your men will be on your own.”

“You’re just going to leave us adrift in the middle of nowhere …”

“We will wait until the morning to storm the beach, you and your men can get a good rest and have plenty of light to make it to the road and tread towards an established zone. I’ll give you food and water for two days just in case, and a few silver per person so you’re not entering as beggars. Ferrying you to shore, supplying you and giving you an escort is more than fair treatment for shipwreck survivors. Now, it’s up to you to ready your men for the trek. Are you up to doing that?”

I expected the man to get red and bluster, but instead he paled. Without any objections, I dismissed him and returned my attention to the planned landing in the morning.