The Last Lands

CHAPTER 16 WARM WELCOMES, COLD DEPARTURES

The Platinum-Dvergr tailor was thin for a dwarf, with a round, bald head and a neat bright white moustache. His round spectacles were hanging by a brass chain, and he wore a grey waist-coat and matching trousers. He held one of the Montec bracelets and inspected it carefully. Artifae was busy in front of the mirror, twirling slowly in a luxurious azure coat. It was soft to the touch, thick, but lighter than his old leather coat. He smiled at the pirate in his reflection, with a black hat and a small white feather, traditional West-folk attire.

Now that's a look Captain Zip would be proud of. Just need a sword now...

He stepped out of the hut and into the damp, early morning. They were under a titanium sky and within a cool breeze. He was suddenly thankful for his new jacket, and pulled it in close as he made his way to a weapon stall run by a cyan Froglin, with bright green eyes and long webbed fingers caressing one of the many blades for sale. Artifae picked a silver sabre, with gold trim winding along the hilt.

“That's a hundred Dynasties, y'know.” The Froglin croaked, his toothless smile widening.

Artifae gulped as he placed it gently down, and rummaged in his pockets until he eventually found the last bracelet he had.

“What can I get for this?”

“Wuzzat? I don' want no jewellery, cash only.”

“This is Montec treasure, thousands of years old. It's worth a lot.”

The Froglin scratched its smooth chin curiously.

“'Ow much?”

Artifae shrugged.

“Probably a lot more than a sword.”

“Then why you wanna buy a sword with it?” The seller asked suspiciously.

“I need a sword, and I need one now.”

The Froglin smirked, and took the bracelet, studying it carefully.

“It don't look like much. Don't look like it's worth a hundred Dynasties.”

In the end, Artifae settled for a cheaper sword, a smooth sabre that wasn't too flashy, but was comfortable in the hand. He managed to barter himself a leather sheath he could attach to his waist. He walked with a new swagger in the morning buzz, still devoid of a purpose, but he didn't betray that in the way he walked.

Best find out where my path leads me next then.

He walked back to the beach-head, watching the swaying armada of sail-ships.

Not home, not yet. I'm gonna stay here as long as I can.

He was bereft of money and a job, but not of drive. A newfound excitement began to swell once he realised he wasn't trapped, but free to discover the playground that was this new world. His stomach growled as a stark reminder of the reality of the world, and he grimaced. He watched as a small crowd gathered around the metal hunk of a ship on the docks, as workers used a wooden trolley to transport a large cube, adorned with sockets and switches. It was almost as tall as he was, and not something he recognised, but Governor Blare watched from nearby with a keen interest. He was smiling and clapped his hands excitedly, pointing to where the workers needed to drag the clunky object away and on to the wooden pathway which rumbled under the weight.

The three golden ships remained leaning against the silver sky. The news that one of their own had not gone down well. There appeared to be a funeral song that drifted hauntingly throughout the night, and pinpricks of light appeared along the ships in some kind of ritualistic ceremony. One of their boats was slowly returning to the shore, he could see the veiled figure coming slowly into focus. As Mahaan Blare happily watched as the equipment was taken away, and he shook hands with various people, not realising an impatient River-Elemental woman waiting for him. Her clear-hair was untied, falling around her shoulders.

“Mister Blare-” She said quickly.

“Governor Blare, please.” He said, without looking at her, still watching the strange metal cube as it went into the settlement.

“Governor Blare,” Ruoro sighed. “I need to talk to you about the infirmary, right now.”

He grumpily turned to her, adjusting his spectacles.

“Infirmary? What? Why?”

“I don't have enough.” She said, looking at him angrily. “Everyday there's more sailors, builders and settlers coming in, but I don't have enough supplies for every-time someone breaks a thumb or eats a toxic mushroom, not to mention I don't have anyone to help me. I need more.”

He snorted, irritated.

“Then I might suggest you start charging people, Ms. Hehkuva.” He said pompously. “At least that way, it might discourage people from hurting themselves, hm?”

She sunk, defeated, as he casually walked past her, his colourful robe flowing behind him. Artie looked at her with grim empathy.

That's right, she was supposed to have that Eve chick helping her. Guess that means she's still missing...

Before Mahaan could reach the trolley, he was accosted instantly again, by a tall figure wearing an orange turban.

“Governor Blare, we must seek a word from you.” He said directly.

Mahaan grunted, growing further annoyed.

“Can't this wait? Look!” He pointed towards the disappearing object, being carried off of the sand and towards firmer ground. “We're about to install the Nexos generator! The first on this continent! How terribly exciting!”

Ban sighed, and looked helplessly at their captain, but the captain did not take his eyes off of the Black-bear.

“It's important, Governor. It might very well involve the safety of the inhabitants of this town.”

Mahaan Blare grumbled again, as Sofia Ericles reached the dock, and gracefully walked onto the planks and towards them with great purpose.

“Are we ready, captain? Governor?”

Mahaan Blare looked between the three of them before relenting.

“Oh very well. Let's make this snappy though, hmm?”

The call of Artifae's stomach was not lost on him, but the curiosity pecking at his brain like a delicate canary could not be ignored either. He moved quickly, but with long, graceful steps so as not to be seen in his new grand threads. He moved in and out of the crowd, unseen, as the four of them slowly meandered towards the settlement. The Nexos generator was unloaded from the trolley, and they awaited him. Artie couldn't hear what he said from the rabble, but saw him wave his hand at them, as he stepped into the scaffold-laden house that was still mostly wood.

He walked past a stall on his way, pretending to inspect various apples and before-unseen fruits, biding his time until he could find his way there. He picked up an apple, half red and yellow with slight brown bruising, and carried it away from the distracted shop-keeper. He tossed it and caught it idly, a confident and casual walk as he sunk his teeth into its sharp flesh. He passed workers carrying tools and slabs of marble, cut expertly into exact cubes and oblongs, as he reached the building site. Tiny rays of light began to penetrate the grey skies, as he hid on the shaded side of the house, resting his back and tipping his hat, quietly biting into the apple.

“Sure I can't get you anything? Water? Wine?” He heard Governor Blare's voice through the gaps in the wood behind him.

“No, but I thank you.” Sofia Ericles said, clear despite the muffling of the barricade between them.

“Very well.” He said, and Artie heard the scrapings of chairs against a dirt floor. “What is so urgent, then?”

There was a brief impertinent silence, where Artie could only hear the crunching of his borrowed apple.

Must remember to pay for this, when I'm rich and famous.

“As you may remember us telling you yesterday, our ship-The Hunnigan's Glory-went down in flames recently.” Captain Albahr said.

“Mmm yes, very distressing to hear.” Mahaan mumbled.

“As such, we find ourselves stranded here, unable and unwilling to return to New Peridios without a vessel.”

“Our entire crew's livelihoods were on that ship, Governor.” Ban added.

He heard Blare scoff slightly.

“Get to the point, mm? What is it you are hoping to hear from me?”

“A loan.” Captain Albahr said simply. “A ship, or money to procure one, to be paid back with interest.”

“Interest?” Blare snorted. “This does not interest me. Promise Coast is a place for people to come and seek a new, better life. A fortune, if they can. Sometimes, it does not pan out for our migrants, and that cannot and will not be the responsibility of our new government here.”

“I think this will interest you, Governor Blare.” The captain insisted. “We are seeking a great treasure, and were foiled by a roving band of brigands who attacked us and sank our ship. With a fresh ship, supplies and crew, we can pursue these villains, make sure they befall no other harm on any other settlers in the area, and return with riches and treasures that will greatly benefit the settlement.”

“There are already riches and treasures here.” Blare growled. “We do not call the neighbouring mountain the Silver-tooth because it is just a catchy name.”

“Please, Governor.” Ban interjected.

“I have enough worries about the very making of Promise Coast, what with our new generator, an ever-growing population outgrowing potential for supplies. Of course, there will be a few vile apples amongst the bunch, but we should be nurturing the ones who come here for a change, a second chance.”

Artifae could feel the discontent mounting within the room through the very walls.

“Then perhaps the Senator is still here?” Captain Albahr asked desperately. “Could you get her to talk to us?”

There was a painful sigh.

“The Senator is part of my growing list of worries, Captain.” He said sadly. “She has missing for some time now.”

A shocked silence fell.

“Missing?” Ban asked. “Since when?”

“Mmm, what day is it today? The fifth of Quintus? No more than three days gone, I expect.”

“What happened?” Sofia asked with an authoritative voice.

Blare began to murmur and Artifae heard the wooden chair creak under his weight.

“She seemed awfully distracted while we were here, I must admit. The last anyone saw of her, was her unpleasant bodyguard quickly escorting her out into the jungle.”

Artie gulped heavily, the apple falling through his fingers as his blood turned into slush.

“The Frost-kin?” Ban enquired. “Are you sure?”

“It's hard to say, hard to say.” Blare mumbled. “Vile apples among the bunch, you know.”

“The Frost-kin was the one talking about the treasure in the first place.” Ban said quietly.

“Then perhaps the band who attacked us are linked to the Senator's absence...” Dhib Albahr mused.

“Is there anything more you can tell us?” Ban asked.

“I don't believe so, no.” Blare said. “I know that professor she was with seemed to leave before her, due south I believe.”

“Perhaps they are all linked.” Captain Albahr said again.

“Yes, yes. Terrible business. Such warm welcomes, cold departures, as is the nature of this place.”

“What about my man?” Sofia asked. “The one who was killed last night?”

“Are we sure that wasn't some sort of accident?” Blare asked.

“An accident?” Sofia said, growing angry. “He was scouting the woods before that boy came across him, suffocated by wax. Such a thing could only be from a strange type of magic, an unprovoked attack.”

“How do we know it was unprovoked?” Blare asked impatiently.

He heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and falling to the floor as Sofia stood up.

“The warriors of Demeterios put discipline before anything else.” She said, almost shouting. “My men know what we are seeking, and it is not some rabble. Clearly, he must have seen something no-one wanted him to, and ambushed him with foul magic.”

She waited, willing herself to calm down.

“Perhaps the laws of your world have been lost while Demeterios has been sealed away, and I apologise for my part, but not a single Demeteriosi has been killed in over four-thousand years. The blood of my people is sacred, and will not be spilled lightly.”

“I see, I see.” Blare said, clearing trying to hide his panic. “Perhaps we can send a message to the Guardsmen for assistance?”

“No, wait.” Captain Albahr said calmly. “The way I see it, perhaps our interests align.”

“Ours?” Sofia asked. “I believe we already saved you once.”

“You did, a debt I will repay.” The captain answered carefully. “I believe these are linked. The treasure, the Frost-kin and him kidnapping the Senator, and the death of your soldier. I believe that by allying ourselves, we can bring swift retribution on those who have attacked each of us.”

Sofia chewed on this fro a second.

“I ave a greater mission at hand. I cannot divert my resources and time on petty revenge.”

“If afterwards we can assist you on your search, then maybe we can help.” Captain Dhib said. “You cannot be searching over the entire continent by yourselves, not knowing where to look.”

“In return, you will want my ships, I expect?”

“Just passage.” The captain answered. “Once we rescue the Senator, she will reward us honestly, yes?”

“I-I believe she would, yes.” Blare answered.

“This could work out well for all of us.” The captain said finally, resting his pitch.

He heard Sofia sigh.

“Very well.” She said. “Gather your men, signal for us when you are ready to depart later today, but do not keep us waiting for long, Captain.”

He heard them thank Blare for his time, who muttered under his breath something about a waste of time, and heard the familiar elegant boot-steps stepping out of the building. Artifae gave one last look to the rapidly yellowing flesh of the apple, already claimed by several ants, and left it to decompose in the mud.

Something's happening, at last!

With a cheerful breath, he straightened out his coat and adjusted his hat, before swinging his feet around, to meet the three conspirators.

“Oh, good morning! Captain! Ban!” Artifae said cheerfully, tryign to think of the word emissary to address Sofia and failing. “Madam!”

He saw the First-mate roll their eyes and Captain Albahr sigh slightly. They did not stop for him and continued past.

“Mister Sajaestan.” the captain said. “I assumed you would have been on the way back to the city by now.”

Assumed or hoped?

Artifae cocked his most charming smile, letting his swagger jump out to meet them.

“So, where we off to next, Captain?”

The Captain's cheek twitched, but he said nothing. Ban looked at him gloomily as always, and the two made to leave. Sofia Ericles remained, talking quietly with Blare, who was desperate to escape but unable to appear rude. Artie turned, scratching his head under his hat.

“I can help.” He said as they began to depart. “I can help get the crew together.”

He saw Albahr Dhib's shoulders slump, twitching slightly with anger.

“Why is it,” He said, turning to Artifae. “that wherever I have been going for the last week, you have been under my feet, like some lost, wandering weevil?”

Artifae was taken aback, forcing an awkward smile as Captain Albahr's eyes bore into him.

“Why are you so insistent on joining us? Why?”

Don't say treasure, don't say treasure.

“He thinks he's gonna get rich by sticking with us.” Ban said with a cruel smile.

Artie gulped down something heavy in his throat, as he thought of an answer. The hazel eyes did not relinquish their search on him.

“I told you I wanted to prove my loyalty to you, if you were a good captain.”

The captain was slightly shocked, and reeled in a chuckle.

“A good captain would still have a ship, aye?”

“You've got the Demeterios ship, right?”

Dhib looked at him suspiciously, but not as angry as the scowl on Ban's face. Still, the captain smiled.

“You're an interesting lad, Mister Sajaestan. I think I understand now; you love this life, as much as any of us.”

Artie felt stunned, nodding thoughtfully.

The freedom, the camaraderie, the excitement, the treasure. This really is what I've always wanted.

The two shared an understanding for a second.

“Assemble the men on the beach, Mister Sajaestan, no later than midday.” The captain looked to Ban, and the two smiled similarly.

Artifae nodded in form of a salute. He felt a pride and excitement zap through his chest.

Alright, now just gotta find them all.

It wasn't quite a daunting task as he might have been led to believe, as the mess hall had been expanded into a large tavern. A sign hung over it, The Steamin' Crab, with a tag-line etched into the wood with yellow paint; A promise of a drink!

Kutja and some of his cronies were on a long table, empty tankards and cups strewn around them. Crumbs and scraps of food had been thrown onto the table and the floor with a reckless abandon. They were steaming drunk, with Kutja aggressively telling a story to the High-Eve who struggled to keep his eyes open. There were few people here, it still being morning, and the smell of urine and beer was stifling. It was not an enclosed bar, as light was able to still seep in from the lack of walls. He braced himself, readying his pitch. On the outskirts of the group, was Khaigra, the Mud-Goblin. He did not seem to be part of the drunken group, instead was carefully repairing a Nexos-powered torch, delicately replacing the metal wires and screwing on the metal cap. With a gleeful smile, the torch worked, flashing a blinding light into Kutja's eye, causing him to wince, but not stop his story. Artie approached the table, standing before them like a man with purpose. Khaigra smiled at him.

“Alright, Sajaestan? Any news from the cap'n?”

“Actually, yes.” He said, and slowly, the attention was turned onto him.

Kutja snorted.

“Wot you doin' 'ere lad? 'Ere to buy us anuvva round?” The crowd around him jeered.

“No, I'm here to tell you to report to the beach by midday. We're heading back out again.”

The Mud-Goblin chuckled happily, stashing his torch away with his other trinkets. Kutja blew a raspberry.

“Sod that. I ain't doin' nuthin' today cept drinkin' and eatin'.”

“You can do that any-day.” Artie said, growing annoyed. “We're heading off today, and you need to be on that beach, all of you.”

“So go without me.” Kutja drooled.

Artie felt the annoyance grow, and walked round the edge of the table to tower over the seated Kutja.

“You really think I'm gonna remember you abandoning us to that terror-tusk, Kutja? You owe me. You need to eb on that ship.”

Kutja slammed his palm on the table, causing the goblets to jump up, rudely waking the High-Eve up. Kutja turned to him with blood-shot eyes.

“'Oo the 'ell do you think you are, boy?” He growled, his reeking breath punching Artifae in the nostrils.

He tried to stand up, but his legs were wobbly. He placed a heavy hand on the person next to him and groaned as he leveraged himself up to meet Artifae in the eyes. The smell made Artifae want to recoil, but he stood strong.

Like a captain would.

“You answer to me, not the other way round. I won't be spoken to like that by you or anyone.” He said, reaching to jab Artifae in the chest, but he successfully evaded it.

“On the ship, Kutja. 'Till then, you're not part of the crew, so I don't have to respect you.” He said with a steely conviction, before turning on his heel. “Midday, gents. Else we'll go find that golden skull without you.”

He strolled out of the tavern with a confident smile and a swagger to his stride.

Artifae was once again sitting with the girls on the golden long-ships as the land reappeared. The estuary revealed itself once more, and so too did the smell of rotten eggs.

“Eugh, there's that smell again.” Misha complained.

“Where's it coming from?” Taisha asked.

Artifae shrugged, still thinking about the golden skull.

“Beats me.”

On the other-side of the ship, Kutja had been napping, snoring loudly with his gun under his arm. Whenever he awoke, he fitted Artifae with a grim snarl. Once the ships reached the estuary, and the Demeterios sent scouting boats onto the shore, as Captain Albahr's crew readied themselves. Artifae felt strong standing on the bow with his new attire, ready to write his tale in the tapestry of the land unfurling before him. He looked along the coast with trepidation, when he saw Taisha standing by herself, doing the same. She stood with a fair lonesomeness, holding a carved stave. It was adorned with beads and fire-coloured feathers, and she twirled it idly. Artifae strode towards her.

“You okay, Taisha?” He asked.

She snapped back into reality, blinking with her large eyes, and turned to him with a meek smile. She nodded lightly, and continued to stare at the vast jungle.

“You ready to head out?” He asked, smiling at her.

“As I'll ever be.” She said quietly.

“What's that you've got there?” He asked, nodding towards her stave.

He recognised he had seen it before with her belongings. She gripped it tightly. It had been carved by hand from a larger log. She looked at it with a fondness, but her smile was much sadder.

“My father gave it to me, before I left.” She said, studying it carefully. “Long before I left.”

“It's nice.” Artifae said amicably.

“He made it himself.” She said. “Adorned it in prayer beads and stuff. To protect me, I suppose.”

“You think it will?” Artifae said with a playful smile.

She shrugged, tapping the bottom of the stick on the deck.

“I doubt it. It's not magic or anything, it's just....” She looked to the emerging beach. “It's just a bit of home.”

Artie saw her eyes beginning to glisten and moved in closer to her. He went to touch her hand, but resisted against the urge.

“It was the first thing I grabbed when the fire started. I wasn't even thinking about saving myself. I know it's just a stick, but it's the only thing I have from the city. From my family.”

She rested the stick against the railing and looked into the deep turquoise waters.

“You said he was a priest before.” Artifae said carefully. “But you never say anything else about him.”

She looked at him quickly, wondering if he was going to finish his sentence, but he couldn't think of what it was he wanted to say. She swallowed heavily and wiped at her eyes.

“It wasn't easy.” She said morosely. “He was more than a priest, the belief, it was his life. Everything in me and my sister's life was to the dictations of The Ture. No Spherevision, no boys, no sweets, no being out after dark. Everything was a sin, to him and Voss Nova.”

“Do you actually believe in Voss Nova?”

“Well, yeah.” She said brightly, but doubt clouded her eyes. “I guess so. I've been told to believe in him all my life. I don't know if I believe in everything The Ture says, or if the after-life is as black and white as they say.”

“You believe in an after-life?” He scoffed.

She blushed a little, her eyes intensifying.

“Yeah, I do. It gives me peace, thinking about it all.”

Artie relented, leaning against the golden side.

“I can see that.”

“Don't you think it's a little scary? Having only this life, nothing after death?”

“I try not to think about it.” He said simply. “It's never really made much sense to me though. Why would we go through this life if there's a better one after the fact?”

“It's a test. Voss Nova is supposed to only allow the purest of souls to join him in his realm after they die.”

“So that would be mostly just Eve's anyway, then?” He said with a coy smile.

She looked back towards the jungle, as the skiff had just reached the beach.

“I don't think he wanted me to believe in Voss Nova, so much as he just wanted us to follow what it was he said.”

Artifae looked at her carefully, the sunlight radiating off of her.

“I guess I'm lucky my family was never religious. I think my dad was raised Church of X, but mum was never interested.”

“It can bring peace to a lot of people. All of my friends growing up, I met at the church. I even had my first kiss with a boy I met there.” She smiled, not noticing Artifae blushing at the mental image. “It was the community there. Everyone knew each-other, we all saw each-other at least once a week. It was studious, and stuffy, all talking about the church all the time, but it was peaceful, for what it was.”

Gulls chattered around them, some diving down into the water.

“Did you ever tell your dad you kissed a boy there?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

She laughed.

“Oh, lord no.” She said with a daring look in her eyes. “He was half-Orkan too. He would have hated that, but he was fun. A bit rebellious, and cheeky, like you.”

The two smiled at each-other.

“It sounds hard, anyway.” Artifae said.

Her sadness seeped into the sea as she looked at it with longing. Artifae wasn't sure if she was seeing her reflection in the water for the first time, or willing herself to be taken by it. Gingerly he placed a hand gently on her wrist. She recoiled, looking at him suspiciously, but she soon reciprocated his smile.

“Was it good?” He asked abruptly.

“What?”

“The kiss.” He said, laughing.

“No.” She said, grinning. “No, I didn't really feel anything from it, and he was a bit pushy. It was at the church X-fast party.”

“The church of Voss Nova celebrates X-Fast?” He asked, surprised.

“Well, everyone does, right? It's not a religious thing to us, it's just an excuse to celebrate, and eat too much food.”

Artifae chuckled at that, remembering the chaos of being seated between his numerous siblings, parents and grand-parents. No matter how much his grand-mother and mum cooked, there was never enough for seconds. There was always an argument, normally between his dad one of his older siblings, but there was a peace in the chaos, somewhere. In between the repetition of X-fast songs and the shouting there was something that defined the Sajaestan holiday experience, and although it wasn't always pleasant, it was something irreplaceable.

“Feels weird thinking about X-fast. It's all a lot simpler out here, no national holidays to worry about when the shops or banks are closed.” He said quietly.

The signal was given by a Demeterios soldier, and the three long-boats ascended the coursing river. They passed the grave-site of The Hunnigan's glory with solemn silence, and passed the beach and cove. The cliffs lowered the further they went upstream, and the walls of jungle grew denser and stronger. It was strangely still, the black vegetation eventually giving way to sloping mountains. The wind crept along the ship, carrying the strange smell of sulphur with it. The walls of the jungle grew larger, and the vision of mountains and growing forests dissapeared, leaving only the dense undergrowth beyond to accompany themselves. Darkness began to fall from the sky. What first felt like snow in the jungle was soon realised to be ash. Artie enclosed a spot within his hand, leaving a dark stain.

“More fire?” He asked cautiously.

The crew looked up to a rapidly darkening cloud, raining tiny patches of black onto them. The Captain looked up, rubbing ash off of his cheek.

“I've seen this before.” He said seriously. “Volcanic ash.”

Many of the crew did not take in what he said, but Artie did.

How? How have you seen this before?

The smell of sulphur became intoxicating, a thick inescapable rotten fog that choked Artifae. Still, the golden ships continued silently up river. The oars struggled against the current, but the passage was smooth under Artifae's boots. The river curved and meandered.

“We should stop before we get too far upstream.” Captain Albahr called out.

“Just wait.” Sofia Ericles said.

As they passed the curving bend, the jungle opened itself. The stretch of mountains return to view, and beyond it, was a great grey claw of stone and volcanic ash. The dark cloud battled against the brilliant blue sky, a cauterising bruise. A fresh gust of wind stole the air of sulphur away, even if only for a few refreshing seconds. Settled further up, was a sail-ship, anchored by a bay. A small camp had been set up nearby, but from what they could see, it was deserted. Quickly, the sortie was assembled, the majority of which was the crew from The Hunnigan's Glory, while Sofia assembled an arrangement of her personal guard. Swiftly, they piled into the remaining skiffs and sped towards the bank.

They were crowded, with two many men and too much weight piled into each individual boat, but they reached the empty shoreline. Even the boat appeared to be empty. It was blackened by soot and ash, no name appeared visible on its hull. Captain Albahr was the first to jettison himself out, landing in the fast flowing water which reached up past his knees. He pulled at a robe, leading the heavy boat closer to the stony shore. Artie waited as the clumsy crew of treasure hunters spilled out, with Kutja placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, almost capsizing the entire skiff as he escaped. Ol' Beauty was clasped in his hands, as the crew quickly went about searching the campsite.

Artifae jumped out, freezing water leaping into his boots and chilling his bare feet which were still covered in sores and abrasions after wading though the swamp at the ruins. He clasped his scabbard as he waded through, crunching on the smooth pebbles underneath. The final boats docked themselves, as the Demeterios soldiers leapt gracefully out, golden shields reflecting the sharp light, spears poised. The jungle was silent.

Where is everyone?

Artifae followed Ban and the Captain as they quickly bounced off of the stones the crunching sound enveloping anything around them. There were eyes in the jungle, of that they were all sure.

“Captain?” He whispered.

Captain Albahr crouched down, and the others followed silently. Their eyes were trained on the impasses of trees within darkness. A crude path had been cut through ahead. Leaves twitched and birds jumped from tree to tree. Flies and wasps descended on them, brushing against their skin constantly. Kutja slapped at one on his wrist, eliciting stern looks from the others as their concentration was broken. Artifae saw the Captain lick his lips, and slowly turn his head to them.

Before he could say anything, a crossbow bolt was thrown from the bushes, striking an Orkan crew-mate in the chest. He groaned as he fell onto the stones. Before any of them could turn, more missiles were launched. Stones and more bolts were flung at the confused rabble, bouncing off of shields and sinking into flesh. The Captain ordered the retreat, as the Demterios formed their shields instinctively into a wall, defending each-other, but not the crew. A Lupine sailor was struck in the back of the head by a rock, and fell face first into the cobbled stone. Artie sank his feet into the rocks with every step, when he saw the movement on the nameless ship.

“Behind!” He shouted at the wall of golden shields.

He rest of the pirates swung on rope, landing on the shore between the group and their vessels. There were half as many as the sortie, but with the constant assailing of stones, they were encircled. The pirates had crude swords and axes, pointing directly at the Demeterios, who turned their flank. As they did, the missiles began striking at their armours, cutting the flesh of one of their arms. There was an explosion, not as loud as Ol' Beauty, but a similar recreation of thunder. A Demterios solider called out and was pushed backwards by an unseen force, a bleeding hole left in his chest-plate. Another explosion, and a high-pitched ding as something ricocheted off of a golden shield. Kutja trembled in confusion, from the shore to the trees, his fat finger close to the trigger, but inactive.

With a roar, the rest of the bandits charged out of their hiding places, surrounding the shore party. They were a rabble, in cheap clothes, covered in dirt and scratches. The crew held strong, spears and swords pointed at each-other, but none daring to attack. Kutja pointed his gun with shaking fingers at one target, then another, then another. The Captain's sickle-sword glared in the light, and Ban's tattooed blades were lifted into the air. Taisha trembled behind Artifae, squeezing his free hand tightly, but Misha had resigned herself to a fighter's stance. Artifae finally unsheathed his sword, ready.

There were footsteps, almost like earthquakes. Pebbles trembled, as a large figure emerged from the jungle, laughing with a booming voice. The brigands jeered and laughed with him, as their massive leader emerged. He was an Ogrin, large even for his kind, standing well over seven foot tall, with a huge belly and thick limbs. His thick neck gave way to a proportionally smaller head, all covered in sky-blue, rubbery skin. On his head was a small shock of fair hair, with beady yellow eyes, and large, almost cylindrical teeth that ground together. On his chin was a thick, moss like beard, made of unkempt curls like steel-wool. He was dressed simply in a leather vest and patched-up trousers, and large boots that were falling apart. He looked upon the crew with a delirious grin as the pirates continued to hurl insults and mockeries at the group.

“Haw, we got you!” He boomed, and the brigands cheered louder.

Yep, got us again.

Artie sank his shoulders with disappointment, dropping his guard, but the others did not follow. The Captain, Ban and the Demeterios were still situated for battle. The rest of the crew, particularity those who had faced the pirates before, had already given up, however.

“I am Dhurz, leader of this crew. You are my prisoners now.” He said with a simple voice, albeit an unmistakable one.

“Not yet, we are not.” Growled Captain Albahr.

“Oh?” The Ogrin said, raising a curious eyebrow and placing his thick hands on his hips. “A challenge, maybe? For your freedom, is it?”

One of the Dromea brigands hissed at Dhurz.

“C'mon, Dhurz, you know what the boss said. Kill 'em or capture 'em.”

Dhurz waved dismissively at the Dromea.

“Yeah, yeah.” He huffed. “Still, if little man want to fight for freedom, who am I to say no?”

“Not just mine, all of my crew.” The Captain said defiantly.

“You think you can beat me? Haw!”

“I've felled foes bigger than you, I can kill you as easily.”

The Ogrin looked taken back by that.

“Kill?” He said, almost shocked. “No, no, little man. No fighting to the death, no! We wrestle! If you beat Dhurz, you and your friends can go!”

Suddenly, the Captain didn't look so sure, only sending a look to a shrugging Ban.

“Enough of this.” Sofia said, stepping past her guards and towards the hulking Ogrin. “I am Sofia, from the golden isles of Demeterios. We come seeking retribution.”

“Oh?” The Ogrin asked, curious again. “Perhaps you want to challenge Dhurz?”

The pirates hollered and shouted at the notion, and Sofia tsked with dissatisfaction.

“Maybe I will. Tell me, who is your boss?”

The crowd looked amongst themselves, unsure of how to answer.

“No answers, little lady, not until there is someone who can beat Dhurz!”

She looked at her entourage, then at the Captain. She looked back at Dhurz, and began to unbuckle her shield.

“Fine.” She said.

The crowd cried out with joy, as Dhurz roared, banging his fists on his chest.

“Yes!” He called out. “Finally!”

Artifae stepped back closer, as Taisha released his hand. He looked at her reassuringly, but saw her eyes were elsewhere. He followed the trail they left, until he saw a familiar looking coat, hanging tightly on the bare shoulders of a bearded Mountain-Eve. Artifae felt his heart began to pummel his ribcage. Sylo Teht did not notice them, his eyes were lazy, standing in the back of the crowd, almost uninterested. Instead, he seemed more interested in the long-boats and skiffs that were parked nearby. The pirates moved closer, their swords surrounding them.

I can't let us get captured again.

With more madness than sense, Artifae pointed directly at Sylo, who still did not notice him until he began shouting.

“It's Sylo Teht!” He yelled. “He's there!”

Suddenly all attention was turned to him, and he begrudgingly looked around, but was surprised to see the stillness descend on them.

“You!” Captain Albahr shouted through gritted teeth, brandishing his blade.

“This is the one?” Sofia called back, relaxing herself from her stance.

Dhurz scratched his head, confused, looking from Sofia to Sylo.

“Huh? I thought your name was Dhakar.” He said, somewhat hurt.

Sylo met Artifae's gaze with furious a furious green glare.

“Don't you guys know who's with you now?” Artifae scoffed. “Sylo Teht! He's an assassin!”

Many of the crowd looked amongst themselves and back to him, shrugging.

Okay, time to pull something out of the bag.

“Don't you guys know? He's wanted! He's got a bounty of over a thousand golden Dynasties!”

This piqued their interest.

“Is that right?” He heard someone growl.

Got 'em.

Sylo shook his head.

“You're lyin'” He said, turning to the rest of the brigands. “Kid's mistaken. Lotta people out here with bounties, he's just tryin' to make a distraction.”

“And it worked!” Ban shouted, throwing his wrists about, then thin black blades whirling around him.

The blades sliced at their captors, as The Hunnigan's Glory crew dashed forwards into battle. With a simple nod, Sofia's guards did the same, shouting as they backed into formation, and charging at the pirates at the rear. The battle raged around them, as Taisha screamed, sinking into the pebbles. Misha stood by her, ready to protect. Artifae, however, locked eyes with Sylo, before the Eve bolted towards the jungle. Artifae gave chase, meandering past the fighting groups. Dhurz remained in the centre of it all, shaking his head disappointingly.

Artifae burst into the jungle brush, immediately stumbling over roots, and having his face scratched at by feral branches. He followed the sounds of rustling vegetation, into the deep hands of the jungle. The din of battle began to fade, as the sounds of insects and birds singing took over. The sound of movement grew fainter, but he still detected it due north. The ground grew harder, as large rocks and boulders were inter-spliced between the trees. He scrambled on top of one, narrowly missing a crawling millipede. He couldn't see past the trees, but the grey and green mountains opened up towards him. They were pock-marked with caverns and tunnels.

Oh X, if he gets into one of those, I'll never find them.

He found himself squinting towards a ridge. There were six figures, silhouettes, all dressed all in black, watching the situation on the beach.

Are they more of the pirates?

He jumped back down, the sounds of the jungle circling him.

Damn, I've lost him, and myself.

He carefully stepped back the way he came, but the jungle had become a vortex rolling around him. His sabre rattled in his hand. There was something creeping towards him from his left. He moved towards it, eyes wide, sabre pointed at its general direction, when a figure bounded towards him. With a yell,the Dromea pirate swung a cutlass overhead. Artie threw his hand up, and the metals clashed with a spark. The force pushed him back, his leg crunching against the boulder. The Dromea pushed his blade onto Artie's, the two a hair-length away from his throat. He struggled against the pirate, but was suppressed by his weight. Its golden eyes looked into Artifae's without fear or hate.

He's too strong...

Before Artifae could resign himself to his fate, there was another crack of concentrated thunder. The Dromea yelled in pain, and sunk to the jungle floor with a smoking hole in his back.

“Damn it, missed,” A deep voice said.

Artifae gripped his sword, as the oxygen returned to his lungs.

“You wanted to see what was in my crate?” Sylo Teht called, as he walked calmly towards Artifae.

He stood before Artifae, his stolen coat flapping in the tight breeze. In both hands were revolvers, silver and sleek, smaller than Kutja's bronze contraption. One was smoking, both were pointed at Artifae.

“Well, here we are.”