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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 42: Spirits Of The Slain
The Arklyndellys Vulondur hovered over the isle for the entire time the storm raged. Lord Void had regained much of his physical strength back, but he was still unable to perform even the simplest spells. He stared at the swirling mass that was now heading northwest and said, “BloodVaine must have the powers of a god...or a devil. I would kill myself if I tried to create a storm a tenth of that size!”
They were silent for a while, and then Reno cried, “Hey! Are those ships down there?!?”
The monotony of avoiding icebergs soon diminished as the icebergs themselves slowly but surely melted away. The snowstorm on Kingdom Isle had moved north, leaving the isle to thaw and dry out. They cry of land ho rang out near noon, and all of the crews of the four ships rushed to stare in horror at the decimated isle. Bodies, preserved perfectly, floated by, faces pale and sickly. As the four Bull ships passed nearby, a few figures ran out of buildings that had managed to survive the storm and wailed for food and clothing.
The Lone Falcon’s heart sank. The Kingdom factions that occupied the island were not allies, but they were humans.
“Jack!” cried the Lone Falcon, “Make it be known I want a council of the ship captains as soon as possible!”
Soon, the four captains stood on the deck of the Rose Marie.
The Lone Falcon pointed at the isle.
“Barbod, these ships were bound to aid the Forestmen, but I wonder now if there are others who need this supplies greater than our allies do. The Forestmen have been decimated by that fire, but Fell Isle was not burned, and they have plenty of supplies they can ship over to the mainland. These people, I feel, need our help, and fast. How can we just pass them by in relative comfort when they are dying by the minute?”
Before Barbod could reply, a terrified shout rang out.
“Dragon! Dragon coming!”
The lookout’s voice was shrill with panic as a shadow fell across the Rose Marie from above. Immediately, archers ran for their weapons and crew scattered for protection. Barbod’s gaze swung skyward, as did everyone else’s.
“Megabloks! Now what!?”
The ‘dragon’ hovered low above the cluster of vessels, swaying in the last dregs of the winter storm. Jack peered upward, shielding his eyes.
“Brix and blox! That’s no dragon! It’s... well, I don’t know what it is, exactly-- but if that’s a dragon than Jack’s a three-toed eggplant!”
As if in answer, a rope ladder clattered down from the Arklyndellys Vulondur to lightly touch the deck of the Rose Marie. The crew warily watched as a figure descended the ladder.
As the figure came closer to the deck, Barbod’s eyebrows drew up in wonder.
“Megabloks. It couldn't be…”
The last few feet before the descending figure reached the deck were interrupted by a crushing bear-hug from Barbod.
“Reno Regga! Hah! Welcome, lad!”
Reno reeled a bit from the force of the greeting, but his smile was broad.
“Lord Barbod! I haven’t seen you since the Misfits went their separate ways!”
Jack, meanwhile, was dashing from one side of the deck to another like a keg loose in a storm, trying to peer up at the Arklyndellys Vulondur from every possible angle.
“Aye, that’d be a rudder, there...that bit must be some sort of air-paddle...those... well. Who knows, but don’t they turn a pretty sight? Ah... Jack-me-lad, this airship thing is a thing to see…”
Everyone was suddenly distracted by a faint shout from the airship above. It was Aros, and he was waving desperately and pointing off to the north-east.
“He’s signaling something…they’re higher up than your lookouts, Lord Barbod, so he must see…”
“Ship Ho!”
The watch on the Rose Marie’s rigging had taken up the cry, and was gesturing in the same direction as Aros. Barbod, Jack, and the others moved to the stern of the ship to get a better view.
Not far off, a black trireme plowed the waters. The oars dipped and swung, dipped and swung with almost supernatural speed. The vessel was rapidly headed toward the convoy, and began to arc towards the Rose Marie. A faint rattling sound, eerie and high, drifted on the wind.
“One ship?” the Lone Falcon observed, “and not a third the size of even the Fleetwood-- if they’re looking for a fight, they’ve picked a poor target.”
Jack looked out over the water and shook his head.
“Nah, your Falconship. That’s a Fright Knight courier ship-- a messenger. They want a word, I’d warrant.”
“What’s that noise?” Peter asked. “It makes my teeth ache.”
“Bones, lad.” Jack grinned at Peter somewhat wolfishly. “They rattle bones to signal their approach. Collect them from their honored enemies-- those who die well.”
Peter said nothing more, but stared with a worried expression towards the approaching trireme. From here, Jack could see that the oarsmen were gaunt and pale, and moved stiffly in their places. Some looked dreadfully wounded, but seemed to feel no pain from it. He knew all too well what sort of oarsmen the Fright Knights preferred, but said nothing to the others. From their nauseated looks, the Falcon and Trevelayn must have already guessed. As the vessel glided alongside the Rose Marie a single, lightly armored figure, wearing the crest of the Fright Knights, stood at the prow.
“Outsiders! Know you that you trespass in the domain of the Fright Knights. I would have words with your captain. I bring news!”
Barbod thought for a moment, before signaling that the crew should lower a ladder to the smaller ship. Jack looked up at the Arklyndellys Vulondur above them, and the black trireme below, and muttered darkly to himself.
“Aye, Jack-me-lad, first an air-ship drops us a ladder from on high, now we drop one to the boneship below-- all Barbod needs now is for a Mer-craft to swim up below the waves and we'll have a proper bridge from sea to sky.”
Wordlessly, the armored figure ascended the ladder to the deck. Up close, his armor had a peculiar blazon, something like crooked spiral with a black ovaloid in the center. Jack recognized it immediately, and paled. He pulled the Lone Falcon to one side.
“That's no ordinary Fright Knight, your Falconship,” he hissed in a sharp whisper, “that’s a Gynthaunt crest! These are the worst of the lot!”
The emissary was already talking haughtily to Barbod.
“You have trespassed into our domain, and by the laws of the Classic Emperor himself, are ours to kill…”
“Barbod’s hand went to his sword, but the stranger’s next words stunned him.
“...however, the Classic Emperor is now dead, and an usurper sits upon the golden throne.”
Silence. Then everyone began to talk at once.
“Dead!?”
“But the Cavaliers…”
“...the Emperor!?”
“Tyco! It cannot be!”
“...brix and blox…”
The messenger held up his hand.
“It is true. He was slain yesterday. By the same enemy who brought the fires of the dragon to the Forestdwellers. The same who tried to freeze our lands. The enemy of us all. Bloodvaine.”
Reno nodded.
“It’s true-- at least the part about the fires and ice. But I don’t know how he can possibly know about the Emperor. Especially if it only just happened.”
“We have our ways,” the messenger smirked. “She watches all.”
He made a strange formal gesture, like something swooping low, but did not elaborate. Jack paled a bit more.
“Then this BloodVaine is the one we will destroy,” Barbod replied, his face grim.
“You will not find that so easy-- thousands before you have tried. They have failed. He is growing in power every day. That is why I bring a gift from the Fright Knights. It may well be the only thing that can put an end to BloodVaine’s evil.”
He removed a bundle wrapped in loose white silk from his tunic, handling it with infinite care, like living thing. The silk was thready and glistening-- spider silk, from the look for it, for none but the Fright Knights weave cloth from spider’s silk. He set it down on the deck with a look of visible relief, quickly covered up with another smirk. He leaned over and pulled the top of the wrapping aside, to reveal a square box of silvery stone not bigger than a man’s outstretched hand. Though it made him slightly queasy to look at-- he could not say why-- Barbod was not impressed.
“A trinket box? That is the gift you want to destroy an evil sorcerer with?”
“The box is merely the holder, outsider. You would not care to look upon the contents. Nor would Bloodvaine.”
Jack edged close to the box, and seemed about to nudge it with a finger when the messenger spoke again.
“I said before that Bloodvaine has killed thousands. And thousands more are dying still at his hands. They are here. In this box. Everyone Bloodvaine has slain-- everyone he kills even now. We have gathered their spirits from their rest, the necromancers of the Unholy City. She built the spirit-box from darkness and rage. They are within it-- and they will extract a terrible price from Bloodvaine. Bring them to Bloodvaine, and let them take their revenge…”
Jack jumped away from the box so quickly he fell over backwards onto the deck.
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