MOURN THE FALCON
Sir Seran Harringgold sat at the dining table in the Captain's Den of The Black Falcon, nursing a goblet of sweet Cavindish wine as he listened to Sirs Kelbor and Trelman debate their next move. For that night's game of Mages and Monsters, Seran was teamed with Ganton the Bull, undeniably the toughest man of the bunch in a real fight, but a bumbler at gaming strategy. Brute force is all he knew on the battlefield or the gaming table. At least he was comfortable following Seran's lead. They'd played enough games over the last several weeks for him to gain the Bull's respect and to develop quite the rivalry with their opponents. Seran had grown up playing M&M and was an expert. The problem was, Kelbor and Trelman were experts too, and for all intents and purposes, it was two against one. That challenge made it all the more fun, especially playing with Ob's gaming pieces, which were old, rare, and exceptionally finely crafted. They just had to make certain to put them back exactly as they found them, or else Ob would have their heads.
The game that night was intense; they'd battled for hours, interrupted only when Tug returned from one of his supply runs. Each time that he did, Seran inspected the haul — not that it was his job to do that, he just felt that he should. On the last trip, he didn't assign any troopers to the detail, instead allowing Tug to take only his own men. They planned to spend the night in Evermere and were anxious to get over there. Not that the soldiers wouldn't have liked to do the same, but he wanted to keep them out of trouble.
The game dragged on until midnight and beyond. Seran was tired but he forced himself to give the game his full attention. He made himself think of it as a real battle and made his moves accordingly. Hunger, fatigue, illness, or whatever else that got in the way, had to be put aside, just as in a real battle, or else you'd end up dead. Treating the game that way made it more real, more intense, and made him a much more deadly opponent.
Seran heard yelling on deck. He and the others halted the game and listened for a moment; the uproar continued. As one, the knights made for the door. Then they heard the explosions, one after another. The docks were engulfed in flames by the time that Seran made it to a spot where he had a clear view of Evermere.
“Guess it wasn't a friendly port after all,” said Kelbor. “Very disappointing. Would have been nice to have a day or two of rest and relaxation.””
“Plenty of time to rest after you're dead,” said Bull.
“Ten silver stars say that Tanch is behind that,” said Trelman as he pointed at the flames.
“Taken,” said Bull. “Scaredy Cat doesn't have the juice, not by a long ways. I say it was Theta.””
“He's no wizard,” said Trelman.
“That fellow's got powers,” said Bull. “And a bag of tricks as deep as Old Pointy Hat's. He even scares me, and I'm not scared of anybody.””
“What do we do now?” said Trelman. “Take the ship through the reefs or go in with longboats?””
“Or do we wait?” said Kelbor.
“Even Slaayde wouldn't pilot the ship through that,” said Seran. “I'll not trust the mate to do it. Actually, I wouldn't trust the mate for much of anything.””
“Agreed,” said Kelbor. “That man's a snake. Longboats it is then.”
“We'll leave half a squadron of troopers on board and a skeleton crew to man the ship,” said Seran. “The rest of us are going in.””
“You want these reavers with us?” said Bull.
“They're good in a fight,” said Seran. “But mostly I don't want them on the ship without us. What if they got the notion to sail away into the sunset?””
“Aye, then we'd be in deep for certain,” said Bull.
“Maybe we should clear this with Claradon?” said Trelman.
“We should,” said Kelbor, “but we don't have time, and he's still half out of it. We've got to move, or our people may end up dead.””
As the knights gave the orders to proceed as they'd agreed, sailors readied the sails and the ship turned and started moving toward the mouth of the bay — against Seran's orders.
Seran ran to the bridge deck. “What are you doing?” he yelled to N'Paag, the First Mate.
“Rescuing the captain,” said N'Paag. “Look at that inferno over there,” he said pointing. “I'll not leave my captain to burn alive. We're going in to get him and your people too.”
“You can't pilot the ship through the reefs, especially not in the dark,” said Seran. “Slaayde wouldn't even chance it.””
“I'm a better pilot than him. I can do it.”
“We can't take that chance. If the ship runs aground or is damaged we may never get off this island. Our mission is too important.”
“My captain is too important to leave there to die. We're going in.”
“Turn the ship away from the bay,” said Seran sternly.
“No. Shove off, Tin Can. While the captain is away, I command The Falcon.”
Seran stood glaring at him. Two seamen hovered behind N'Paag looking as if they were expecting a fight. Another stood a couple of steps directly behind Seran.
“Best you shove off, like the mate says,” said the man behind Seran.
“Or else things might get unfriendly,” said one of the men behind N'Paag.
Seran looked toward the main deck. He was alone in this. The other knights and soldiers were helping to prepare the longboats. No one else had even noticed his dispute with N’Paag. Not being seamen, they hadn't realized that N'Paag's maneuvering made no sense if they were going to launch the longboats. They must have thought he was just bringing the ship into better position to deploy them.
“I'm not letting you take the ship into that bay,” said Seran. “Stand down, or you — all of you — will spend the rest of this voyage locked in the brig.”
The seamen laughed.
“You stand down, Mister Tin Can, or you'll get a thrashing like you've never had before.”
“And if you get us riled enough,” said one of the seamen, “you'll get dead.”
Seran pulled his sword, but before he brought it to bear the man behind him tackled him, taking him from his feet with some clever tripping maneuver at the same time that he pushed him forward. Before Seran could do anything, three blades pricked his throat.
Then, out of nowhere, the whole ship rose in the water.
Yells of surprise came from all across the deck. The ship rose up and listed to the side just as if it were hit by a huge swell in a storm, yet the sky and the sea were calm.
The men holding Seran scrambled off him, and tried to figure out what was happening. Seran pulled himself to his feet.
He saw a dark shape rise from the water in front of them, at the very mouth of the bay. The night was too dark for him to see much, but whatever it was out there, was huge. Bigger even than the largest whale. Much larger than The Falcon herself. N'Paag spun the wheel hard to port. As luck would have it, or perhaps providence (if you believe in such things), a strong wind came up that aided The Falcon's turning and got them headed away from the bay.
The breeze carried with it the thing's scent — an overwhelming fishy smell like you'd get on the deck of a big fishing vessel. What the thing was, still wasn't clear, for it was too dark. It seemed huge, and rather round and featureless.
“Take the ship around that point,” said Seran to N'Paag. “If we're lucky, that thing won't follow us.””
“That's what I'm doing, Mister Tin Can. And I don't need no advice from you. You run along now so that we don't have no more troubles. Man the catapult,” shouted N'Paag. “Man the ballistae.”
Crewmen uncovered the ship's weaponry and prepared them to fire.
“What is that thing?” said Trelman.
“A sea monster, you numbskull,” said Bull. “Some people don't got much going on betwixt their ears,”” he said to no one in particular. “You got to think a little bit, like I do.”
“Claradon is coming,” said Kelbor. The men turned to see Claradon Eotrus step through the door from below decks. He hobbled on crutches and looked pale and unsteady as he shuffled toward them, Kayla, Sergeant Vid, and several troopers in tow.
“What's happening?” said Claradon.
“A sea monster is all,” said Bull to Claradon. “We've got things well under control, as usual.””
“The port is on fire,” said Kelbor, “and that thing, whatever it is, is blocking the mouth of the bay. We're maneuvering around the point, hoping that it won't follow.”
“I can't see it — just a dark shadow,” said Claradon. “What is it?”
“We can't tell other than it looks a lot bigger than the ship,” said Kelbor.
“We can't leave our people stranded over there,” said Claradon. “They're obviously in trouble. It looks like the whole waterfront is on fire. That didn't happen by accident.”
“I doubt we can stop that thing with the ship's weapons,” said Kelbor. “If we don't and it comes at us, we're dead. It'll swamp us and crack the hull.””
“I agree,” said Trelman. “Fighting anything that big is suicide. But could we try sneaking by it in the longboats?””
“Or wait it out,” said Bull. “It came out of nowhere; maybe it will go back there.”
“I've an idea,” said Claradon. “But if it doesn’t work, we're going to have to fight that thing head on. Get to the weapons. Make certain they're ready. Get the archers in place. And see if they have any harpoons aboard. If they do, pass them out — all of them — to any man that knows how to use one, and get them to the gunwales, ready to throw.”
An earsplitting honking sound, non unlike an elephant's trumpeting, came from the thing in the water and went on and on for several seconds, followed by a loud, clacking sound, akin to huge jaws snapping.
“It's turning toward us,” said Bull.
“Oh, boy,” said Claradon.
***
A deep, loud, bellowing call of some large creature sounded from far out in the bay.
The men in the longboat all went quiet and stayed their oars.
“What the heck was that?” said Ob.
“It sounded like it came from out by The Falcon,” said Artol. “But I've never heard anything like it before.”
“Nor have I,” said Ob.
“I heard a sound like that once,” said Captain Graybeard. “Out in the Southron Isles, by Hargone Bay. The locals said it was a monster from the deep. Something not seen much anymore. But every time that it did show up, fishing vessels went missing, their crews never found.”
“A sea monster,” said Ob. “Now that's just wonderful. Another thing straight of out the fairy tales. Maybe another old enemy of yours, Mister Fancy Pants? Or an old pet that you set loose when he got too big?”
Theta made no response. He kept his eyes fixed on the mouth of the bay.
“Back on the oars, men,” said Ob. “We need to get to the ship and quick, sea monsters be damned.””
The throng of Evermerians began to chant something from the eastern end of the docks — a rhythmic sound that may have been words, but no one in the longboat could make out what they said.
Far out in the bay, a large ball of yellow and orange fire flew through the air.
“What the heck?” said Ob as all the men turned and gaped in surprise at the crackling fireball. The flaming projectile arced down and smashed into something atop the water, far out at the mouth of the bay. The fireball exploded and spread flaming pitch across the object and the surrounding water over a wide swath. Then came the roar — the same trumpeting sound as before, but even louder, angrier. A great shape rose up out of the water: a giant creature, but of what nature, they could not yet see, though the bay was growing lighter by the moment. The clouds high above were clearing; the moonlight beginning to shine through.
“What in Thor's name is going on out there?” said Captain Graybeard.
“N'Paag is using my catapult,” said Slaayde. “That was one of my pitch bombs. Ravel cooked up the recipe years ago, after we saw something like it in action way down south.”
“They must have been coming in to get us and that thing blocked the way,” said Ob, “so they're trying to clear it out.””
“But what is it?” said Artol. “It looks huge. It looked like the whole mouth of the bay moved and rose.””
“Fire,” said Seran and the catapult crew launched a second sphere of flaming pitch and metal shot at the sea monster.
“Got it,” shouted Bull as the pitch exploded on impact.
The flaming bits and the growing light gave them a better look at the creature. It was enormous, even larger than they had thought. It had a hard, round back, unlike any fish or whale. The thing turned in the water and dived down, extinguishing some of the fire that raged along its back, only to resurface again almost immediately, covering a third of the distance between it and The Falcon in a matter of moments. Now they saw its gigantic head, its webbed legs, and scorch marks across its thick shell where the projectiles had hit it. It looked like an enormous sea turtle, no less than a hundred and fifty yards across. It was angry and it was coming at them.
“Ballistae, fire!” said Claradon from the bridge deck. “Archers, fire,” he shouted. Bolts from the two large ballistae mounted on deck fired. One shot bounced off the creature's shell, but the second caught it between its foreleg and neck, sinking deep. The archers and crossbowmen fired, scoring several hits, but the arrows and bolts bounced off it, unable to pierce its thick hide. Another catapult shot flew toward it, but the turtle ducked its head and neck into the water and the shot blasted into its shell, spreading flaming pitch across much of its back. The thing's head popped out of the water, and screamed a monstrous, otherworldly wail that was so loud that it vibrated the bodies of the men in the longboat, still so far away. As it closed on the ship, honking and pounding the water with its forelegs, the men threw their harpoons. Those that hit bounced harmlessly off its shell or its hide. As the thing barreled toward The Falcon, some of the seamen jumped over the side to escape the inevitable collision. But the knights of Dor Eotrus did not flee. It was not their nature. They held their ground. Claradon stood on the bridge deck, sword drawn, ready for action despite the grievous wounds that still plagued him. Kayla, Sergeant Vid, and a squad of soldiers stood around him. Kelbor, Trelman, Bull, Seran, and a full squadron of troopers stood, weapons ready (including many pole arms and harpoons), at the bow. They all braced themselves as best they could.
Just before the turtle would have collided with The Falcon, it submerged, diving down at a steep angle, its maneuverability impressive for a creature a fraction of its size. The ship was not hit except by the beast's wake. The turtle was gone, beneath the waves. The men looked to all sides, searching for any sign of it, but found none. As quickly as it came, it now seemed to be gone.
Some moments later, there was a huge jolt. Then the sound of cracking timbers. The ship rose up out of the water, higher and higher, knocking the men on deck from their feet.
“By Odin,” yelled Ob, rising to his feet, even as the sea turtle lifted The Falcon out of the water. ““Shit! Claradon! Shit!”
“My ship,” shouted Slaayde as he struggled to his feet to try to get a better look. “My ship!””
The turtle had launched itself to the surface, head first, under The Falcon. As it came up, it lifted the ship with its head, the ship rising thirty, forty, perhaps even fifty feet out of the water, before it and the turtle crashed down to the water's surface. The turtle slipped back down below the surface. The Falcon, however, came down hard on its side, great timbers cracked and snapped. The vessel's hull was shattered, a ruin. Timbers, deck boards, and men flew in all directions, tossed into the icy water. Much of what was left began to sink.
“Put your backs into it,” shouted Ob. “We've got pick up the survivors before they freeze to death.””
“This is your fault,” shouted Slaayde as he pointed at Theta, his face twisted in rage. “There's a curse on you and anyone with you. You've been the death of many a friend and good sailor since this darned voyage began, and now I've lost my ship. My ship! My whole darned crew! I'll see you dead for this! I’ll see you dead!”
“Back down, Slaayde,” said Artol. “You don't know who you're talking to.”
“Screw you, you big bastard,” said Slaayde. “I'll see you all dead before I'm done.”
The giant turtle burst from the water again. It rose up high, and then crashed down directly atop The Falcon's wreckage.
“No,” shouted Ob. “Claradon, my boy, oh no.”
The turtle's jaws snapped at figures bobbing in the water. It grabbed one between its jaws, the silvery glint of a knight's armor shown in the moonlight as the man was snapped in half. Then a second knight followed him to the afterlife. The turtle's webbed forelegs thrashed and pounded the water all around the wreckage. Its intent was clear: to kill any and all survivors from The Falcon.
“We've got to move,” said Ob. “We've got to get out there.” He turned toward Tanch, anguish on his face, his eyes, wet. “We've lost him, dammit. We've lost him,” he said to Tanch, though the wizard was still unconscious.
“You folks don't have other ships hanging about out there somewhere, do you?” said Graybeard.
“Just the one,” said Dolan.
“And now all we've got is this stinking longboat,” said Ob.
“They're coming,” said Dolan.
They all looked toward shore. The Evermerians were putting longboats, dinghies, and canoes into the water. Dozens of them. Enough to hold a few hundred people. They piled into the boats and started rowing toward the longboat, still chanting and yelling.
“Oh, shit!” said Ob.
“That's it then,” said Slaayde. “We're all dead. There's no way out of this. No way out. You stinking bastard,”” he said, still glaring at Theta.
The turtle roared behind them as it smashed and ate anyone that it found alive in the water.
Then the vast throng of Evermerians still ashore, those who couldn't fit into the boats, ran into the surf, and began to swim out into the bay, toward the longboat, howling and screaming. There were thousands of them. Thousands.