These short stories introduce the world of Project Arroa. Read Part Two here.
Night fell as The Swoop cleaved eastward, our hunter tightening the race each hour that passed. I could not guess at the devilry powering his sails.
There grew among my men a discord on that final evening. The sight of me, stained by the Kishari runecutter, had unmade their will. With my new senses, I could hear them whisper words such as “bewitched” and “doomed”. Those on break huddled in the mess, sharing what hardtack had been spared the drink. They refused to meet my eyes, yet I could feel their fleeting glances when my back turned. There would doubtless be mutiny once this was over, should any survive.
I retired to my quarters, almost immediately falling into the deepest sleep of my life. Yet strange dreams plagued my mind. I dreamt of a child-like form floating in a pool of water under a twilight sky. As the child turned to face me, without stirring so much as a ripple, I beheld above its shoulders not one head, but two! The first sat squarely between the shoulders as it should, with piercing eyes twinkling blue in the soft light. The second head emerged like a tumorous growth from the creature’s neck and lolled onto its left shoulder. This set of eyes were swollen and held firmly shut, it’s mouth partly agape. I tried to step back, but each step only carried me closer to the pool. I was being drawn in by this abomination.
I found myself standing in the pool directly before the creature. The water was not deep, barely reaching to my hips. From this vantage, I could see its wasted legs trailing like deformed ribbons beneath its waist. Their boneless movement put me in mind of cephalopods ofttimes drawn up in fishing nets.
Its open-eyed face studied me intently as its thin lips turned down into a slight frown. It had no eyebrows or hair of any quantity upon its head.
I could not speak. I could not move. Its gaze held me in place as if I had become oak. And then it spoke in a reedy voice.
“Look at it, Dreamer. What does it want? Why has it come to us?”
The slack left head twitched, as if trying to raise itself up from the shoulder on which it rested. I wanted to scream but was unable. I could only watch as the muscles around its eyes expanded, dragging open the swollen lids as if requiring all the effort of raising a drawbridge. It struggled, twitching and heaving, and at last its eyelids opened just a crack.
Behind sat no eyes, only an empty void punctuated with bright points of light. They were stars! But not in any configuration I had seen in my forty-five years sailing. This was a stranger’s sky, deeper than any sea, peering out at me across an unfathomable abyss. I could not look away nor shut out the sight. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I helplessly awaited my fate of falling into the endless sky behind eyelids that continued creaking open wider and impossibly wider. I realised at last these apertures were not its eyes. They were its jaws and the space beyond a gullet for mortal men.
I awoke screaming, flailing about in my bunk.
“Hush now,” a soft voice spoke. The Kishari woman had entered my cabin at some point in the night. “It’s just a dream.”
Her hand traced the rune above my heart, and calm fell over me. Everything would be alright so long as she remained close.
I dressed and went above deck, the Kishari woman by my side. In our wake the hunter’s ship loomed. They rode high in the water and were close enough now I could see her crew plainly. A tall figure stood watch on their bow. This was certainly he, Gehennal of House Orizzt. We would be joined in a few short hours now.
Several crew gathered by our port side on the opposite end of The Swoop. They spoke quickly and pointed ahead to the north-east. I approached and followed their gaze. There sailed an Auldport naval galleon with some forty guns fully run out. She was beating hard against the winds, rows of heavy oars deployed in preparation for rapid manoeuvring. There could be no mistake, she was in full battle posture and tacking towards us.
We could not change course or the hunter behind would reach us even sooner, and there was no escaping the goliath ahead. We were trapped. It was a coin toss which threat might reach us first.
The Kishari woman was smiling, the first time I had seen her do so.
“Friends of yours?” I asked. I could feel no fear next to her, but I was dumbfounded.
“Yes, Captain. I sent a message ahead several days before procuring your services. It would seem our luck has finally improved.”
“Who are you?” I asked, stricken with unexpected jealously. “Who are you that the navy would launch a warship to your aid?”
“I’m nobody if you can’t keep me alive today,” she said, meeting my eyes. “You should be concerned only with the hunter at our backs.”
I felt a wave of trust course through me. Of course, her life was all that mattered. She clearly had allies in high places. This was no business of an old smuggler.
My life for hers. This was the only thought which made sense in that moment.
“Come on,” she gently held my hand and led me away from portside.
The crew watched as she placed me centre deck. None dared approach.
“Stand here. He will be here soon, and you must protect me.”
“Yes,” I replied. He will be here soon.
My life for hers.