Sailing Ether Tides

Sailing Ether Tides

Ch: 28 The Glamorous Life

The climb up that sheer, stony rock face was a special kind of awful, doubly so, since they had equipment that would have made some of the worst troubles into trivial matters.

Their enchanted warshovels and machetes would have helped them clear the trail with ease, just as stink rings and enchanted armor would have lightened the twinned burdens of weight and stench. Heavy, mundane armor wouldn’t be such an issue, since Papa’s normal gear was both lighter and stronger than the usual goods available to Adventurers… Being able to take a full breath without gagging would have made the biggest difference.

Perry’s spiced and herbal unguent that they’d dabbed under their noses had taken the boys this far, cutting the wretched funk admirably, until they approached the source. The clever concoction was a keeper, but now its aroma was a single tear in a salted, poisonous sea that smelt like ass.

Thornbushes had lashed them, stones had turned beneath their feet and perilous heights yawned below them… but worst of all, worse even than scrabbling up the barren, steep ledges… was that stink.

It was rich, meaty and deep, it made the cool mountain air taste warm, in all the worst ways. Growing up in clean and tidy Wheatford, the ducal seat and most profoundly orderly city around, the Ward boys didn’t have a lot of exposure to rank, nauseating smells…

That their father was the only person capable of producing the unique, enchanted trinkets that provided an additional layer of stank protection meant they were absolute newbies marching into the face of a truly horrid aroma.

Near the top of the ‘hill’ Malus had ordered them up, Their supervisor called the halt by the mouth of a particularly foul smelling fissure… If one could really classify the thick, unctuous mouthfeel and its deep, profound umami that way. At a certain point it had stopped being a bad smell and become a true miasma; pervasive, insistent and utterly intolerable.

“Yer critter’s inside, there’s small cracks leading deeper into the caverns, but the puckered butthole you’ve come to wipe is just a few yards in.

They paused at the entrance and looked askance at the older warrior. “It’s not a cave, technically, so it ain’t a delve.” Malus offered happily, as he pointed the three sweaty, exhausted lads at a dim, thorny crevice.

The three lads produced mundane hooded lanterns from their mysterious gifts and sparked them up with a short incantation, spoken in rhyme and three part harmony.

In single file, with Larry in the lead armed with a machete and a round shield, they pushed into the thorn choked crevice, hunting something nasty. Ten steps into that shady rock walled slot riven through the stones by some titanic force, Larry called out quietly.

“Webs in the bushes, no chance we can sneak up on it…” He reported to his brothers. “This is going to be a fight, boys.”

“So we have to face the venomous, fanged, multi legged nightmare spider in the it’s den?” Perry asked calmly. “At least we’ll be facing the fanged and bitey end.”

They clustered together for a quick planning sesh; too softly spoken and composed of too few actual words for any but three of them and Harry to understand.

They bustled about changing gear for a moment, then made double sure each of their armor plates was strapped on tight.

They looked each other over with critical eyes, seeking any fault or trouble, taking extra care to check their preparations in this distracting fog of utter filth and nastiness.

They nodded as one and formed up behind Larry, who’s machete and shield now sported a light coating of beeswax, so webs would be less likely to cling to the blade.

Barry came next, with a long, heavy war spear, he looked eager to be done with this, and eager to dash the living guts out of whatever was responsible for that aroma.

Perry followed last, a bouquet of heavy steel needles in his hand, each one tipped with something oily and dark. Together they moved deeper, Larry spent a moment hacking through the slender, tough strands of web, as he cleared the thorny brush.

In the dank, stillness and dark, thick moss and clusters of fungus proliferated. The crevasse floor was strangely pleasant, after a long morning of hunting, hiking and climbing on rocky trails. It was a lush and cool green carpet, with only occasional rocky outcroppings and stones poking through.

The webs that festooned the narrow passage were less enchanting. They drifted and dangled all around in a chaotic mess of sticky, random threads, occasionally clinging to their faces as they passed through the shrouded spooky fissure in the mountain. Larry’s machete dislodged a mummified, silk wrapped bundle of legs and chitin that might have once been a giant cave scorpion, it tumbled down the decline in a ratting, sibilant clatter.

“Heads up guys, something is movin’ below…” He muttered, as the stench intensified dramatically.

He had only just finished giving his warning, when a wad of something vile came flying from the shadowy rift, splattering across his hastily raised shield.

“It got in my eyes… falling back.” Larry called, bringing Barry forward; his spear ready and visor lowered. Perry closed in, ready to aid or back up either of his brothers, while seeking their prey in the darkness beyond their lanterns’ glow.

#

Admiral Amy took the helm of Moonrise, with a dissatisfied expression on her face. They’d spent three days crawling all over the region, looking for clues to where those mangy harpies had found their abominable, possessed, cursed ‘musical instruments’ of human and humanoid bone and flesh.

Three long, fruitess days and nights, now they were headed up river, leaving the marines and their obnoxious officer behind in Bywater Town.

After a long morning’s sail against the river’s sluggish current the young girl in the fancy pirate costume glared at the tree lined shore as it passed, wondering what else was lurking in the forests and backwoods of the pleasant domain.

“Amy, my dear one…” Gabbie whispered softly, as she settled in the hammock chair hung near the steerswoman’s station.

“The world is wide and strange; stranger now than before you and your family arrived… You will never be able to solve every problem or right every wrong. Give yourself leave to enjoy life, even when things are chaotic and hectic.”

Amy hopped up on the taffrail and sighed at her aunt in utter frustration. “You’ve got armies, a navy, your own clan of ninjas and a whole nation behind you… we only have us.”

“Don’t forget that I too, am part of your ‘us’... my sweet Amy. Becky is the high priestess of Marduk, your eldest uncle is a count, while Rolf will be duke of Wheatford.” She smiled at her young… sister? Niece? For a moment before continuing to gently berate the sullen girl.

“For that matter; in addition to my imperial magnificence, the ruling heads of several domains will be present at your brothers’ birth day party… Spare me your ‘poor orphan Amy’ routine, young lady. Now let me try steering this boat…”

“Ok… you got me there.” She giggled at last, while handing the empress the tiller of Moonrise.

“My first act as a free woman was to participate in an act of piracy… It’s about time I learnt to drive a boat!” Gabbie chattered happily as she took a try at sailing.

“I wonder, what ever happened to that little boat…?”

#

Nearly fifteen years after the event, Kinsey Manok was still drinking free on the tale of that day. “So an hour before dawn, I hear a noise, not loud, mind you, just a little splash… but a sailor knows his craft’s sounds.” He murmured to a rapt audience of locals in the pub.

I charge out, in nothing but my nightshirt and cap, what do I see? My little ketch, Sanddab, sailing off with the empress herself aboard.” He paused his well rehearsed tale, which most of the listeners could have performed from rote memory after so many repetitions. “ The blessed empress herself, may the light illuminate her every desire; she yells at me… at me!” He puffed with pride at that part, a blush of joy rising to his cheeks. “The divine empress yells out: ‘We’re pirates!’ and tells me they are stealing my boat, just like that…”

He sighed in reverent wonder, gazing out on the little boat, bobbing on the municipal pier. “I keep hoping, some day, the empress will steal my boat again…”

#

Larry cleared the sticky, foul goop from his gear and washed his eyes with a saltwater solution from Perry’s kit and took up his station at the head of their little formation… this time with his visor down and goggles on. “That crud was toxic… I’m pretty ok now, but watch for it.”

“Pretty ok, or ok?” Perry demanded, his eyes still searching the shadows. “Be honest. We’re bein’ evaluated, not hunting this monster. If we kill it by taking stupid risks, we’ll still fail.”

“I’m good. I owe it for that cheapshot.” Larry growled. “Come on. It’s bug smashing time.” He hefted his shield and shook out his machete arm, looking eager to get some aggression out.

“Perry’s call.” Barry muttered, watching a suspicious shadow near the thin strip of sky visible above them. “But decide quick; it’s moving.” As he spoke, the quiet, taciturn lad drew a short javelin from a quiver on his shoulder and hurled it into the dark.

The sharp clack and clatter of steel and wood striking only stone returned from the chasm… and the sound of movement. Something large and stealthy stirred in the rift above them lurking in the dark.

With a quick, well practiced move; borne of long hours and dedicated teamwork, Perry stepped to his brother’s side and hurled three stout steel needles into the darkness.

Two soft chimes of steel on stone sang back, the third sounded crunchy and a little wet.

Something shrieked and chittered in the dark, drawing two more darts from Perry. Barry’s second javelin struck something, but no more sounds of distress came from the darkness and drifting webs.

“All good?” Perry asked, sounding like he had decided.

“All good.” His brothers chimed back, as they pressed deeper in, weapons out, eyes and ears alert.

Each lad’s fingers itched for the toys they’d grown up playing with. The usual tools of their trade were strange and often obscure, but they were versatile, focusing on pure utility. For this trip, none of the usual gimmicks, gadgets, gags or pranks were allowed.

Those trinkets of their parents’ and siblings’ arts, crafts and invention had been their playthings since childhood, and would be super handy right now.

A handful of lightstones that could illuminate a room for a half hour before going dim, or flash stones that would erupt in brilliant light, or smokebombs, either perfumed or stinky, for escapes and evasions…

That was just the tip of a very large and, admittedly, sometimes silly, iceberg of alchemical, enchanted and occult oddities that they used and trained with daily.

Today was going to be about steel and wood, shoved into something nasty, with unpleasant results likely for all involved.

The way forward was rugged, but passable… for young men who had trained on obstacle courses and cross country forest runs almost since infancy. They climbed, vaulted and clambered through the dim chasm, alert for any sound or movement, stalking the thing that was no doubt stalking them in turn.

Larry peered around a sharp dogleg bend in the passage, a steep turn and upward jog into a cleft so narrow that it almost closed off the sliver of sky, far overhead.

“Tight spot, keep alert.” he whispered softly, as he made his way around and climbed up onto a low ledge.

Guided more by training and instinct than any true awareness, Larry brought his shield up in a swift, overhead chop. The loud, ringing, metallic *bong* of more than a hundred pounds of spider whanging into a rolled edge of bronze rimmed steel was almost musical.

One of the creature’s fangs shattered on the rim of his shield, as the stunned arachnid clenched onto its prey by dumb, animal instinct and started trying to chew its venom into the burnished bronze and steel construct.

The big, muscular young man dug in with the balls of his feet and rolled his shoulder, counting on the strength of his sturdy metal shield, forged for him by his own mother.

With a cry of rage, he wrenched the beast off the wall where it clung, hidden in the shadow of a crag.

Larry heaved with all his might, dragging the monster spider off its perch and onto a punishing body slam. He pivoted at the hips, turning and dashing his foe to the grotto floor with a noisome, wet sounding crunch of carapace. Unbelievable filth sprayed the cavern wall, coating several dozen square yards with obscene, olfactory graffiti.

The thing lay on its back, still clenched to Larry’s shield arm, but far beyond trying to envenom the young warrior. It stabbed and scrabbled at him with its free legs, of which it had way too many. The thing had at least two dozen legs of various sizes and shapes… and a surplus of fangs exceeded only by the horrid and truly startling number of eyes it possessed.

Larry wasn’t counting eyes, fangs or limbs, he was harvesting them with his machete, as quickly and efficiently as he could manage, without letting the horror roll over onto its scuttling side.

Barry helped out by driving his wide bladed spear down nto the confusing mess that all those legs emerged from, pinning the thing to the ground. It answered with a satisfying scream, hiss and rattle. The lad leaned in in his weapon, forcefully pinning it in place, while his brothers worked.

Perry pitched his current handful of senbon at the bloated abdomen of the monster, piercing that gross bag of reeking nastiness a number of times. Whether the beads of waxy toxin on the tips of those tiny darts worked or not, he needed to get up close and get busy.

His short, boarding ax appeared in his hand and he fell to work, the broad steel blade striking carapace segments with a steady, workmanlike chopping sound, as the three lads worked to disassemble their prey, while it tried to repay the favor with limited success.

They fanned out efficiently, checking for threats, then re-convened, checking each other for hidden injuries and damage to their gear. That done, they triple checked that their prey was done for and began searching the monster’s lair for goodies.

Most monsters possessed less than animal intelligence, with an extra measure of ravenous, desperate cunning. They did not collect loot, in general… There were a few exceptions, but by and large the monster’s parts were the loot.

#

None of them noticed the dark clad figure of their mother, climbing across the stony peaks above them, like a four limbed spider in dark green and gray, leaping and scuttling among the jagged boulders and thornbough trees. She smiled with pride, as her boys took the creature apart careless of the reeking, foul ichor and wretched putrescence that coated them from head to toe.

Her heart warmed even more as Larry dealt the final stroke that ended its struggles, took two more chops for good measure, and immediately started getting ready to loot the place.

#

Larry deployed a long wide forked wand, enspelled with a simple untangling and spinning charm. With a slight effort of Will, he quickly twirled up a massive cotton candy ball of spider silk, drawn to his wand by the tool. He held the collected mass well clear of the stuff coating a good potion of himself, wary of polluting his goods.

From trapdoors, the silk was the prize, especially if the monster put up a fight. The fangs and venom glands of the beast could be valuable to mages and scholars, but they always got emptied or damaged in a battle… this time was no exception. Larry had given little thought to the valuable goods he was bashing with his shield and machete, focusing on keeping a whole skin on himself instead.

Scattered all around were cocoons, containing previous meals of the dreadful thing, most were absolute trash, which Barry tossed in a pile for Larry to unwind with his wands. One silken bundle caught his attention, it was hefty and felt… full in some way, not like the husks of cave vermin he’d been tossing down into the open space from the far reaches of the chasm.

“Got something here…” He murmured excitedly.

“Is it a hot bath and a change of clothes?” Larry asked, from somewhere behind his mask of filth.

#

Larry and the boys trooped out of the vile, reviled defile, coated in bile, in single file after a while… “Perry, put that banjo away…” Larry complained when he realized his thoughts and footfalls were being entrained by his brother’s music.

“Just trying to help…” He muttered, stilling his reggae beat and muting the strings.

“Yeah, well, Malus is gonna give me no end of shit over this. I’d rather not draw any more attention to this boondoggle.” Larry grumbled, shooting a glare at Barry, who still wouldn’t show what he’d found in the back recesses of that rancid hole.

He walked in silence all the way back to where malus waited, on the hillside cleft.

“Gentlemen.” He said with calm civility. “Any injuries?”

“None, sir, just messy. It put up a fight.” Larry held up the two wands he carried, each one spun around with a truly enormous cloud of fluffy silk.

“It was a stalker variant, it was always going to be a fight.” The veteran said proudly.

“You passed just by getting close enough to discover that. You passed with high marks for taking it safely and cleanly, guild brothers. Come now, my young apprentice Adventurers.” With fanfare, he pulled out stink bands for Perry and Barry, each one carefully labeled.

For Larry he had an ornate silver ring and a crate of small glass bottles, each one strung with a tiny paper tag bearing the inscription carved in the ring. We must not oppress the ladies with our stench.” He grinned and almost clapped Larry on the back, which was still coated with despicable and wretched… stuff. “This ring harvests the ‘stench molecules’ or some such and stows them in these bottles. It makes stink grenades, lad. We’ll have a full crate of smelly mayhem before you get clean.”

“Awww, but this feels super gross!” Larry whined, pawing at his sticky garments.

“Welcome to the glamorous life of Adventure!” It was a long and horrible march down the steep trail back to the wayside camp on the road.

When they came in sight of the camp, a tall column of steam was rising from a cauldron of hot water on a small campfire. Not enough for a bath, but enough to wash some of the worst of it away. A pile of towels and a bottle of Wardco labs AdventureWash™

‘We can help with the mess; the memories are yours to deal with.’ Was emblazoned across the label in fancy script.

“I just assumed one of you would get filthy… If you all came out clean, I was going to make soup.” Harry said through a truly awful grin.

“Tawny and the girls are a piece upwind… we’ll have a scrub and a change first.”

“You’ll still reek, lad; even after the boys give you the ‘Silkwood shower’.” Malus grumbled happily. “So leave that ring on and let me know if the last bottle gets filled.”

Larry was only half listening, he was over in the bushes peeling out of his rancid clothes and trying to scrape as much of the crud off his skin as possible. It was a good way to the river… and farther to the magical, cleansing baths at home.

He barely registered the threat, as his brothers approached from behind with brushes on long bamboo handles, dripping with steamy, soapy water.

“Sorry, Larry…” Was all he heard, before the scrubbing started.

Larry’s skin was red and raw, the inflamed surface creamed you at every point where his garments made contact, even dressed in regular clothes. He was smiling just as widely as his brothers, as they strolled into the camp where Tawny, Bran the bodyguard and their mother waited with the excited insect girls.

“Next time, Barry takes point,” He muttered happily.

#