Spelljammer Story, Chunk 8

(4037 words, plus 2003 words on another project, making me officially caught up!)

   The Jewel continued to drop through the rain and the wind towards the surface. Now that we were clear of the terrible turbulence of the upper airs, the crew hustled to raise sail again and give us some maneuverability.  As our sails caught the wind and bellied out, the landscape began to slide past beneath us. Captain Blake, still standing at the bow, pulled out his spyglass, and began scanning the terrain, looking for a good site to land. After a few minutes of steady descent, he seemed to find an interesting spot. He spent several seconds focused on it, then folded up the spyglass decisively and headed back across the deck to me. When he reached the helm, he was smiling a little, a good sign. "Good descent, Raphael. Very smooth." I nodded in thanks, and he continued. "I think I've spotted a place to land. Looks like a bay, good shelter, and trees around it, so we might be able to do some repairs while we're there." I shrugged, not wanting to break his optimism, but I felt I needed to warn him it might be misplaced. "It's a good thought, Captain, but I should warn you: the wood here is pretty terrible. Most of the trees are either soft, or half rotted, or else monstrous hulks that you'd have to hack at for a day just to make a dent." He sighed, and nodded, but didn't lose his smile entirely. "Well, we'll make the best of it, Raphael. Take us to four points north of west, and hold her steady. We should be touching down in half an hour." I acknowledged the order, and brought the helm around to the indicated course. The ship came about, and I set the wheel.

       It was indeed almost exactly a half hour, by the sandglass, when our keel touched water. Now the crew began to truly relax. The easiest part of sailing is the part where you're going through the water. You don't have to worry about falling out of the sky, or being flipped about by winds, or any of the hundred other hazards that a sailor has to fear. The Jewel settled gently into the murky sea of Verpax, and we deactivated the liftstones. We sailed on, holding to the course Captain Blake had given us, and soon the coast came in sight through the rain. The mouth of the bay was almost directly before our bow, and I gentled us in, steering carefully for the center of the opening. We furled sails, and Rolf and a couple other crewmen rowed out in one of the ship's boats ahead of us, taking soundings. Verpax's seas had a reputation for shallows and shoals, and we didn't want to run aground. We sailed slowly on, only using our jib to catch the wind, carefully navigating the unknown waters of the bay. Finally, after another half-hour of slow, cautious maneuvering, we were safely ensconced in the middle of the bay. We dropped anchor, and began preparing for our stay.

       As first mate, it was my job to lead the landing party. I gathered Rolf and four other crewmembers, and went ashore in one of the boats. The "shore" was, as I expected, a swamp, with the beach just barely rising above the water level for almost a hundred yards. Enormous mangroves covered the muddy shoreline, and the five of us had to scramble over and beneath their giant arches of roots. Finally, we passed the edge of the mudflat, and the mangroves ended. The ground rose slightly and became more rocky. It was still low and swampy, however, with pools of standing water everywhere. The trees were cypresses, and their enormous branches blocked out most of the light that leaked through the clouds. Ropes of moss hung down, and a layer of low fog hung over the ground. Our vision was limited to only a hundred yards or so before the mist and the darkness made spotting anything impossible. As we entered the swamp proper, thousands of insects rose up from their resting places and began to swarm around us. We were soon slapping flies, mosquitoes, and other, less savory things, and we found we had to stop every few minutes to pull leeches off our feet and legs, where they had crawled up.

       We circled the bay, having started on the north side near the mouth. We trudged for nearly six hours, slowly making our way through the swamp and the muck. Along the way, we came across two small streams flowing into the sea, and marked them as places to get through the mangrove thicket that otherwise barricaded the shore. The water was foul, though, and I knew from bitter experience that we were unlikely to find better on the blasted planet. Our purifier would definitely have to be put to use here. Besides the streams, we found little of interest, unless your tastes ran to the natural philosophy of vicious biting insects. Finally, we made our way to the southern tip of the mouth of the bay, and used our flare to attract attention. They sent out another of the boats, picked us up, and we went back to the ship to report.

       The captain wasn't too surprised by our lack of anything good to say about the area behind the bay. He had known Verpax's reputation before landing, after all. He shrugged when we finished, and stared off at the shore. "We'll just have to do what we can here, then, while we wait for the lifestone to charge. That looks like it's going to take at least five weeks, judging by the readings I've been taking. Make yourselves comfortable." The rest of us groaned, and went off to wash what we could of the clinging mud of the swamp away.

       The next three weeks were unpleasant. Not as hellish as the first time I spent on Verpax, since this time I had company and a comfortable bed. But the insects quickly found the ship, and apparently they told all their friends, family, and distant accquaintances about us as well. Swarms of bugs hung in clounds around the Jewel at all times, and they crept into every crevice and cranny they could find, searching for warm flesh to bite, suck, or otherwise abuse. They nearly drove us mad for the first few days, until someone had the bright idea of putting spikefruit peel in one of our barrels of lamp oil. The result was pungent, to say the least, but a lamp lit with the stuff would keep insects out of the room nicely. We left lamps burning low in most rooms, and we were finally able to sleep reasonably comfortably at night.

       Unfortunately, the solution didn't work well for the elves. Haelle and Troven seemed to have some sort of bad reaction to the smell. After a few minutes of breathing the spikefruit-laced smoke, they would begin to wheeze, cough, and go pale. We didn't risk any longer exposure, so they had to suffer through the attacks of the insects. Of course, Troven didn't really wake up for the first week at all, so he missed the worst of the bug attacks. Haelle continued to help him the whole time, feeding him the food we provided, moving him to prevent bedsores, and brushing the bugs away whenever possible. I wondered, looking in on them a few times, whether they were lovers. It would be against protocol in the Navy, but perhaps Songmasters were an exception to the rule?

       When Troven woke up, eight days after we had landed on Verpax, my impression was quickly shattered. I happened to be nearby when he finally regained consciousness, and I was treated to a temper tantrum that would have embarressed a human five-year-old. Coming from an elf who was probably two hundred, it was utterly ridiculous. Troven delivered his dressing down in High Vitae; no doubt he assumed that non-elves simply wouldn't understand it. Of course, he was mostly right. His bad luck that one of the three people on board who did understand was in the area.

       Troven demonstrated his diplomatic skills right from his first sentence. "Dammit, where the hell are we? What the hell is going on, Haelle? Why aren't we on the Emperor?" I didn't catch her response, Haelle having the sense to keep her voice down even when speaking in a different language. His reapons was a shout. "The hammership? Lust's sagging tits! What the  hell are we doing there?" Another low response from Haelle. "Captured? You  stupid cow! How could you be so idiotic as to let them capture us? They're a bunch of deck apes and mud-eaters! Have you even tried to escape? Where are they taking us, anyway?" He paused for an answer from Haelle, and then his voice rose to a scream. "Verpax? Wrath, Lust, and Envy eat your entrails, Haelle! You know that's forbidden! The Admirality will have your stinking head on a spike for allowing this! How could you be so stupid!" There was a bruised sounding silence for a minute, which I spent pondering just why Verpax was forbidden. There had never been a blockade imposed on it that I knew of, which implied that it was only forbidden to the Navy, not to outsiders. Which made no sense at all. Why would the Navy forbid its personal from visiting a world that was completely within their sphere?

       Finally, I made out Haelle's voice, no more than whispering. Troven was still screaming in response, however. "I don't care how sorry you are, you whore! This is your fault, and I will see to it that you get your full share of the punishment for it when we get back! Now shut up, I have to plan an escape, since you seem to be incapable of outthinking a pack of animals!" His tirade apparently finished, I heard him get up and begin pacing the deck. I headed off, thoughtful, but I quietly asked the guards to get me if there were any more outbursts. Hopefully, Troven would continue to be incautious enough to blurt out his plans at top volume. I made sure to inform Captain Blake that Troven was planning to escape, and then let the matter lie for a while.

Over the next two weeks, I came to heartily hate Third Officer Troven Liirae. He was possibly the rudest elf I had ever met, and that was saying quite a lot. The arrogance that he had displayed when he first came on board the Jewel was nothing compared to the petulance and rage he was now indulging in. His pride had clearly been pricked by the capture, and he was even more offended by the stories the crew had told him about the likely fate of the Purple Emperor. He had not had a chance to recognize what had shot him down, and we took some glee in laying out the Navy ship's likely fate, faced with such an opponent. In retaliation, he initially heaped abuse on the crew, using every epithet and slur he could dredge up, hurling small objects until he ran out, and threatening dire punishments to every crew member, their families, their friends, and practically everyone they had ever met. This lasted all of a day, until the captain came down to the hold and had a quiet talk about what exactly would happen to Troven if he persisted in abusing the crew. I wasn't there for it personally, but apparently "limbs broken and tied out in the swamp for the animals" was brought up, and apparently the captain was able to convince the elf of his sincerity, since the harassment of the Jewel's crew more or less ended after that. However, Troven then proceded to take out his frustration on his fellow Navy captives. Within the next two days, the guards summoned me to witness no less than five screaming rages, where he upbraided Haelle and the two marines mercilessly, blaming them for his current predicament, accusing them of sabotaging his career, of plotting his death or humiliation, of attempting to sell us all out to the Necros elves, and half a dozen equally-implausible theories. At some point, he apparently discovered that Haelle had assisted us against the voidwight, and that was added to her list of faults. It seemed that aiding us and destroying the monster was one more sign of her stupidity - Troven would have let it kill us all, then defeated it single-handedly. I was feeling more and more sorry for Haelle.

On the third day, we realized something was brewing. Troven hadn't ranted at the other Navy personal for several hours, and he was obviously trying to act polite to the crew who were on guard. Oddly, this failed to lull us into a false sense of security. The guards were wary, and so they were not taken in when Troven made his break. An hour after their supper had been served, Haelle called the guards and told them that Troven had been taken ill. She indicated the bed, where blankets covered something. Drune and Undine were the guards on duty, and they guessed something was up. Undine went off to get the surgeon, and along the way he gathered Rolf, the captain, and myself as well. When we got back, the three of us held back, out of sight of the stateroom, while Rin went in to "inspect" Troven, accompanied by Undine. The other Navy members carefully kept to the walls, obviously trying to be non-threatening. Just as Rin got to the bed, Troven made his move. He was invisible - obviously he had gotten Haelle to cast her spell on him again. He yanked the door open, and bolted. Unfortunately for him, Rolf, the captain, and I had been expecting something like this. As the door opened, I cast the mist spell that had proved so effective before over the room. Then Rolf and Captain Blake tackled the hapless third officer while he was still stunned by the sudden turn of events. Drune closed the door again to make sure the other Navy types didn't try to help out, and then joined Rolf and the captain in subduing our attempted escapee. It took them almost a minute before he was completely convinced that he wasn't somehow going to wriggle free. When it finally dawned on him that he was caught, he began a string of curses so vile that I almost blushed. The elf had a tongue on him worse than any sailor I had ever heard! I wandered over to the door, and caught Haelle's eye through the window. "Might as well drop the spell," I suggested to her. "We've caught him, no sense taking more energy to keep him invisible." She nodded with resignation, obviously unsurprised at how the plan had worked out. Troven returned to visibility, revealing the unique shade of purple his face had assumed in his rage. We threw him back in the stateroom, after removing Rin and Undine, and we left them for the night. It was clear that Troven knew that we were frankly more amused than anything at his escape attempt, and it only made him more furious.

The next morning, it became clear to me just how furious he had been. When I checked in on the prisoners, I saw Troven sitting at the table, calmly eating his morning meal. But Haelle was not immediately obvious. I quickly scanned the cell, trying to spot her. It was possible that she had staged her own escape attempt last night, counting on us to lower our guard after Troven's amateurish try. But it didn't take me long to realize how wrong I was. I spotted Haelle in the far corner of the stateroom, half hidden behind the bed. She was lying on her side, curled into the fetal position, her arms clutched around her stomach. For a second, I didn't comprehend what had happened. Then she moved her head slightly, and I saw the streaks of blood that covered the side of her face. I instantly went red with rage. I hated officers who abused their crew - it was one of the few things I absolutely refused to tolerate. But this went beyond even the petty sadism I had seen some captains display, the casual orders for corporal punishment for small infractions. This was brutality. I recognized the signs of a vicious beating, and now that I listened, I could hear Haelle's breath coming in agonized sobs.

I sprinted off to find the captain, and explained what I had seen as best I could, while trying to choke down the urge to go back and slice Troven's slimy head off his neck. The captain listened quietly, then nodded decisively. "We've got to get Troven out of there, or he'll beat the rest of them every time he gets a setback. And if they're typical Navy, they'll lie there and take it." I nodded, finally somewhat more calm. "Actually, I had a thought about that, Captain..." He listened to my suggestion, and when I had finished, he gave a low chuckle. "I like it, Raphael. See to it." I smiled grimly back, and went off to put my plan in motion.

I soon grabbed a couple extra crew members, in case Troven or the marines put up a fight, and headed back down to the stateroom. I slammed open the door, trying to catch them by surprise. It worked - Troven nearly fell over backward as I burst in. "Alright, you lot," I shouted "On your feet! You're being moved to different quarters, since we obviously can't trust you together! Troven, you first!" I grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him upright. He didn't have time to do more than sputter a protest before the two humans I had brought along grabbed his arms and rushed him along. We closed the door behind us, and moved him up the gangway. We turned right at the stairs leading up to the upper deck, and for a second Troven looked hopeful. He probably thought we were moving him to quarters "more appropriate to his station", like the first officer's cabin or something. No such luck, though. We moved past the stairs, and I opened the small door immediately beside it. Troven took one sniff of the unpleasant odor emanating from within, and shouted "No! This is repulsive! I demand that you..." He was cut off as I took his collar again, and yanked him past me, into the darkness of the head. I closed the door behind him, and dropped the bar that I had had the ship's carpenter install across the door. I could hear Troven pounding on the door, but I didn't care. I headed back to the prisoner's stateroom with a warm feeling of satisfaction.

We moved the two marines as well, although we were considerably more polite about it, and we simply put them in the other stateroom. Both of them were sporting bruises, I noticed, which made me feel rather more charitable towards them. As usual, they bore up under the change with a minimum of fuss or complaint. Just before I left the stateroom, though, one turned to me. "Take care of her?" He requested. I didn't need to ask who he meant. I just nodded. He nodded back in satisfaction, and turned back into his new accommodations. I returned to the original stateroom, and looked in on Haelle. Rin was seeing to her, and had already got her up on the bed. He was cleaning a cut on her forehead, and she was wincing. Now that she had uncurled, I could get a better idea of the extent of her injuries, and I winced. Her face was a mass of purple and red, with one eye swollen almost shut, and the cut across her forehead that must have been from one of Troven's rings. Her right arm she had laid carefully out straight, and I could see a large bruise on her forearm, only half-hidden by her uniform sleeve. I couldn't see any other obvious wounds, but I noticed dust and mud in several places on her shirt and trousers, no doubt where Troven had landed kicks. And she seemed to dislike moving; every time she shifted as the surgeon worked on her cut, she had to stifle a gasp of pain. I plotted murder in my mind.

I waited outside the stateroom for Rin to finish. He finally came out almost an hour later, shaking his head. He sat down at the table with me, and took a pull of the brandy flask I passed him. When he had swallowed and wiped his mouth, he looked up and caught my eye. "Bastard really worked her over," he commented. "What's the damage?" I asked. "Bruises everywhere. Not just the face. He kept kicking her after she went down, and I don't know how long he kept it up. She'll be limping for a while, he caught her good on the shin. Honestly, I'm shocked she hasn't broken anything. I would have expected cracked ribs, at the least. He certainly left enough bootmarks on her there." I shook my head. "Elves have tough bones," I offered. "At least, the Navy types do. One of the first things they ever changed, apparently. They may look thin, but an elf's bones will stand up to twice the punishment yours or mine will." Rin was silent for a moment before responding. "Well, she's lucky, then, that's for sure. As it is, she'll be hurting for at least another two weeks. She shouldn't be out of bed for another couple days, that's for sure." Now Rin looked up at me, an odd expression on his face. I could swear he was repressing a smile. "She'll probably need someone to feed her for a bit. Any suggestions?" I thought about the crew roster, and shook my head. "Everyone's busy, really. The guards can't devote that much time to just feeding her, it'll give the others a chance to make a break. And everyone else is working on repairs." I shrugged. "I guess I could do it. I'm not really busy, since everyone knows their jobs." Now I was sure Rin was hiding a smirk. But he didn't let me in on the joke, only said "Sure, that sounds good. Makes sense. Give her small portions at first, so she doesn't have to chew much. Troven clipped her jaw pretty good a few times, and working that will hurt." I nodded, mystified by the continued note of amusement in his voice. "Anything else?" I asked? "Nothing you can't work out, I don't think," he replied. "Have fun, Raphael!"

After he left, I sat for a while, trying to puzzle out the joke, but eventually I gave up. I realized that it was time for the meals for the prisoners anyway, so I went to the galley to grab Haelle's portion. Luckily, Nine-Toes is a very competent cook, capable of making ship food not just edible, but actually good - a rare treasure. He had prepared soup and had used the hardtack that made up most of our meat supply as the base. It had been simmering since the night before, and by now the meat, normally tough as old boot leather, was soft and almost tender. Combined with the spices that Nine-Toes always seemed able to produce, and served with rice, the meal was downright tasty. I told Nine-Toes of Haelle's need for soft food that didn't need much chewing, and he nodded and promised to see to it that the next few meals were soft. He poured me two hearty portions of the soup, and I headed back to the Songmaster's stateroom.