Looming Shadow: Journey to Chaos book 2 (27 page)

Professor Haburt was
already present at the dock and waiting for them. Upon noticing them, he waved
to attract their attention. Instead, Tiza backed away and took a defensive
stance. Her hand strayed to the dagger hostler at her hip. Her teammates stood
in front of her and sent death glares in his direction. When Tiza noticed
this,
she pushed them aside, marched up to Haburt, and declared, “I'm not afraid of
you!”

“G-good.”

Basilard face-palmed.
“I'm sure you're finding this amusing, but it's bad for business.” 

Margret
was a
moderate fishing ship made of fiberglass and materials that Eric didn’t
recognize. At the rear was a motorized propeller attached to a second machine
with probes in the air to drawn in mana for its fuel supply. Despite this, it
also had an old-fashioned mast and holes in the hull large enough for oars. The
captain jumped the railing and tapped Haburt on the head with his flipper in
the customary greeting of turtle men. Haburt returned the gesture and started
introductions.

“This is Captain Kutho.
He will take us to Ceiha. Kutho, this is Dragon’s Lair Team Four.”

Kutho was a humanoid
turtle. He stood upright like a man but otherwise he looked turtle; his skin
was leathery, he carried a shell on his back, and lacked fingers. He wasn’t even
following the human custom of clothing, except for an odd manner of footwear.
Eric marched up to him and asked, “Is bi-pedal the only thing that makes you
different from other turtles?”

Instead of being
offended, as Nolien feared, Kutho laughed.

“What's so funny?”

“Usually when I met
humans for the first time, they ask me why I am ‘naked.’”

“Oh. I figured that
shell was your clothing.”

“That’s what I tell
them. Usually, it’s the elves that ask me your question.”

“I’m
nothing
like Dengel.”

“Dengel?” Kutho laughed
again. “I’m only four hundred. Dengel was my great-great grandfather’s
contemporary, not mine.”

Eric walked up the
gangplank, feeling shame for his outburst. Shadow Dengel walked on the air
beside him.
You are an inquisitive Dragon's Lair mage. You are favored by
The Trickster.
Eric forced himself to be calm, but his gait switched from
walking to stomping.
You like breaking into the lairs of other mages. You
are vindictive.
He walked faster and plugged his ears.
The only thing
you’re missing is golden hair and pointed ears.
Finally, he threw his arms
down and shouted, “Shut up!”

The crew turned in his
direction. Basilard face-palmed. Shadow Dengel sarcastically clapped.

Congratulations.
You've convinced them you're haunted by a trickster.

“Eric!” Kutho made a
beeline for Eric and put a flipper on his shoulder. “Why don't we go below deck
and discuss the mission in greater detail? What do you say, Professor?'

“Sounds like a good
idea to me.”

The three of them
descended a staircase to the lower deck. None of the crew went back to work
until they checked all of their equipment for sabotage. After they were sure it
wasn’t greased or frayed or dripping urine, they continued working. Below deck,
the trio entered a room and closed the door.

“You have no idea how
hard it was to find an agreeable captain,” Haburt said.

“You have no idea how
hard it was to convince my crew to accept the job,” Kutho said.

Eric scowled. “They
think I’m a doom magnet too?”

“Your reputation
precedes you. With the summit coming up and the storm the other day, they're
worried that The Trickster is up to mischief and that your presence will put
them in the center of it.”

“Kutho is a chaosian;
one who seeks the favor of Chaos. No other ship captain would consider ferrying
the Trickster’s Choice so soon after a large-scale prank.”

Eric scowled. “Sailors
are a superstitious and cowardly lot.”

“Are we wrong?” Kutho
asked.

Eric groaned. “No.”

Margret
started
up and slowly chugged to the outer wall. At the exit, Kutho called the porter
and requested an opening. Numerous bolts withdrew as the great bronze gate slid
open. As
Margret
cleared the city's walls, a gust of late fall air
blasted the deck, but to the hardened sailors, it was a balmy breeze.

The fishing ship set a
course to the southwest for the Haton Continent. It made this journey twice a
year to fish in Ceihan territorial waters and estimated a faster time of
arrival than any other ship in Ataidar. Kutho explained that the market was a
prosperous one because these fish lacked mana. It made them popular among those
who wanted the nutrition of fish but didn't like the taste or were on a
low-mana diet. He went on and on about the varieties and market value and other
minutiae like Dengel's self-important lectures. Even worse, hearing about the
merits of mana-less food triggered memories of Eric’s exile on Threa.

The thin air and
tasteless food made him feel like a prisoner eating gruel at high altitude. He
spared no expense to find another gate and didn't care if it dropped him on a
random other world so long as he escaped. Yet here he was, traveling to a
country just like it. Worse still, he was doing it to follow the shadow looming
over him. He could feel the dead mage's presence at his back, taunting him and
laughing at him.

Eric!
The voice
startled him so much he tripped on a coil of rope. He tumbled through the fall
and was back on his feet in a heartbeat.
When did you plan on telling me you
were leaving the country?

When I was safely
out of the country.
Despite their distance, Eric could see her scowl.
Joking!
Seriously, it wouldn't have made a difference. I can't pass on every
long-distance mission because you might want to rant while I'm gone.

No....But I can
schedule a meeting just before you leave. I had things to talk with you about.

Tell me now.

I want to see you in
person.

For hugs?

NO!...Not entirely.
I want to know I have your undivided attention. For all I know, you could be
fighting monsters right now. I have enough yes-men pretending to listen to me
among my staff.

I am on my way to a
small cabin that Kutho hasn't used since you were a princess. I'll tell
Basilard I'm meditating and you can unload all the details about how Governor
Jutsette sets the business taxes too high or why Lady Boli needs to compromise
with the janitor union or what Sir Kantneieho has to say about his son's
jousting career and how it's inflating the market for axes.

You really DO listen
to me! If only Culmus was so attentive...!

By midday, Roalt was a
speck on the horizon. Team Four spent the day staying out of the crew's way and
especially Eric. No one had seen him since the launch and the crew was grateful
for it. He spent the time reading
Introduction to Magecraft.
Just a
couple more chapters to go until he would be finished. Then he could move on to
Intermediate Magecraft
.

Which I wrote, just
like
Advanced Magecraft
and many other books.

Eric whirled about and
slashed the phantom. The crystal flashed and dissipated it, but it waggled its
fingers before vanishing completely.

Tiza stayed on the bow of
the ship to read her fighter's manual with Third Eye. She claimed it was for
practice, but Nolien could tell the true reason; she didn't want Haburt
sneaking up on her. The professor couldn't make up his mind to stay in her
sight or hide from her. Nolien studied alongside her in case he chose the third
option.

As darkness fell and the
crew gathered for dinner, all were hungry and tired. The ship's cook brought
out a big pot of stew and placed it on a dais in the center of the mess hall.
She dipped the ladle to scoop out the first serving when a hand shot out of the
soup and grabbed it.

“Lumins, did you cook a
fiend again?” Kutho asked.

The cook shook her
head. “I purified it this time, I swear!”

The soup bubbled and
steam shot of the pot like a geyser. Slamming the lid back on was futile; the
steam burst it off despite three sailors holding it down. It enveloped the pot
like Fog over Mount Heios and a shadowy figure appeared within. Then, all at
once, the steam dispersed to reveal him.

His skin was sea blue
and his hair was both golden-brown and seaweed green. Aside from an unbuttoned
shirt, he wore swim trunks, flippers, and floaties. His ears were pointed.
A
trickster!

“I didn't know humans
liked fiend soup.”

“What are you doing
here, Poi?” Kutho asked.

 Poi jumped up into a
cross-legged position. “See, I was havin' this convo with Waol and he said he
could out-aerial me, and I was like 'Dude! You can't out-aerial
me
; I
invented ariealing!' So he called up a bomb. Sure, the water dude's got some
sick style, but he's still a barney compared to yours truly. After a few
take-offs, he turned the waves into mush and axed me.”

“How does that explain
you coming out of our soup?”

“It doesn't, but I
wanted to see how much surfer slang I could cram into one paragraph.”

If he wanted to
attract chaotic attention, he's done so.

Poi stuck a finger back
into the soup and tasted it. “It's all right, but it needs something.”

His belly expanded like
a balloon and opened like a burlap sack. He reached inside and pulled out a dozen
leafy plants connected to brown vegetable roots. This one joined with his other
hand and melded into one golden-brown box. With a third hand, he grabbed an
empty bowl and placed it underneath the taro plants. Then he did
trickster-magic. When he opened his hands, purple goo fell into the bowl.

“There's plenty for
everyone!”

Dinner was an orderly
affair that night. There was no fighting or swearing among the sailors while
they ate. Kutho was so happy about this that he ruffled Eric's hair whenever he
passed the boy. Poi himself sat with Basilard and talked about this and that.
Eric cast Magic Hearing to eavesdrop.

“– stick in the mud.”

“That's the point. A
male version of Kallen wouldn't make this work.”

“I'm worried he won't
be ready. I don't want to see another one die.”

“I'm working as fast as
I can, but these things take time.”

The trickster gazed on
his namesake. “We are like a student who is writing a term paper that has taken
all semester and is chugging energy drinks to make it through the night.
We
are running out of time.
”

Basilard put an arm
around his shoulder. “It will happen. Trust me and trust him.” He turned his
attention to his bowl of poi and didn't say another word.  

That night, Eric mulled
over what he learned that day. His mentor was in cahoots with at least one
trickster for a plan that involved him and Kallen. This meant that the children
of Lady Chaos required him for something and Basilard was grooming him for it.
He thought of possible reasons and his thoughts strayed to Latrot, which was
currently ruled by an ordercrafter.
I hope they don't want me to lead a
revolution or challenge Latrot's king to single combat.
He rolled over.
That
would be a pain.

The next two days
passed without incident. Monsters attacked regularly but they were dealt with
quickly and easily by the ship's mages and harpoon guns. Between Basilard’s
study sessions and Kasile’s rant sessions, Eric spent all his time below deck
and away from the superstitious crew.

Every direction was
endless blue sea and endless blue sky. The sailors went about their business
and the mercenaries continued their studies. Basilard made them drill regularly
to stay in shape. Then the lookout reported twenty submerged forms approaching
them at high speed.

They were purple, sleek,
and fifteen feet long. Their fins and ridges were a darker shade of purple than
the rest of their bodies. They used the ship’s wake as a ramp and performed
tricks for their pink counterparts watching nearby.

“Those are wader
beastfolk,” Nolien explained. “Like humans, this is how guys show off in the
hopes of attracting a girl's attention and admiration.”

“So this is how they
score,” Tiza said.

Nolien made a face. “If
you wish to put it in vulgar terms, then yes.”

Poi lit up like the
sunset on the ocean and jumped overboard. By the time he hit the water, he'd
shifted into a form that could join them. The novices leaned over the rail to
watch him perform, instruct, and flirt with waders of both genders.

Suddenly, water was
gushing into Eric's mouth and stabbing every inch of him. Completely
disoriented, he was pulled further and further down. No matter how he thrashed,
he couldn't fight it; four tendrils ensnared his legs and arms. They were
attached to hideous fish the size of houses and maws like meat grinders.

Red beams smashed into
them from above and stunned them. Basilard swam into their midst and slashed
their tentacles with BloodDrinker. The sword flashed golden-brown on contact
and burned them. The squid reacted violently and squeezed Eric in spasms, but
then the limbs fell slack. Tiza descended to his level and unwrapped him while
Nolien fixed an air bubble around his head. The monsters reached to ensnare all
three of them, but Basilard intercepted with a screen of blood. Eyes glowing
with the same color, he jammed BloodDrinker into the head of one and put his
hand through the other. The sword shined in glee and drank its fill while the
novices escaped.

Just before they reached
the surface, a third fish intercepted them. The monster spread its many
tentacles like a net. There was no way past it and their air-bubble spells were
running out of oxygen. Tiza was about to charge by herself when the sailors
fired the harpoon guns. Metal spears the length of a human propelled by enough horsepower
to breach a stone wall bounced off the cod’s skin. An aura of eldritch light
appeared around it and drained all life from the surrounding area. Eric,
already battling unconsciousness, slipped away.