Characters: Malkav, Adam, Fayrelin, Captain Jargon, Exthame, Blackthorns
Location: The Aqueducts of Felwinter
Time: Day 4 - 3:25 PM
The mighty pirate ship sailed through the sewers under Felwinter, navigating through clumps sewage and other mounds of things that might be floating in the aqueducts. At the wheel, Captain Jargon guffawed, drunk as ever, as he purposely steered the ship dangerously close to floating bergs and then jerked the rudder away at the last possible second.
“This is insane!” Adam screamed as another wave of brown water blasted him from the side. The ship rocked. He clung to the mast, digging his nails into the wood that peeled away like loose wallpaper and the captain threw the wheel the other way.
On top of the mast, Blackthorns laughed, stripping off his shirt and waving it around like the great pirate flag that flapped over his head. “Yaaaaaarr! Pirates rule, ninjas drool! Sing with me, mates!”
“What have you gotten us into!?” Malkav screamed into Fayrelin’s ear. He had to. They were clinging each other, sliding around on the ship’s deck like slippery fish. “You should’ve left us there to die! This is suicide!”
The enigmatic Exthame was the only one who didn’t seem to be affected by the ship’s sixty-degree angle tilts. He stood straight and tall and impervious behind the captain, the fingers of his black gloves folded at his waist, and even the water seemed to avoid touching him as it pounded the ship. If it did, he showed no signs of being bothered or even concerned that pieces of the ship were breaking away from under him.
The other pirates just snorted and sang and swigged rum as they were hurled into walls and railings and sharp objects that protruded from the ship.
“We’re coming up on the exit!” Captain Jargon bellowed. His voice was full of mirth and alcohol and he laughed through the rancid air as a sewer grate came into sight. There was only one problem in his calculations.
“We can’t fit through there!” Adam yelled. The bars of the grate were barely three inches apart and the ship was at least four times that. But closer they came to the light, to the gleaming metal bars, to the thrashing waves of sewage that marked their doom.
Fighting the forces of nature, Malkav grabbed Fayrelin by her shirt and threw her against a cabin door. “I asked you a question! Why are you doing this to us!?”
“You mean why am I saving you?” she asked, grinning.
“Saving me!? You’re going to get me killed sooner than if I had stayed with Isabella!”
“But wouldn’t you much rather go out like this?”
He looked up. They were almost upon the grate and there was nowhere else to go. The pipe was a one-way tunnel to death. “Oh, hell no.” He scanned the deck of the ship as quickly as he could. “Adam!”
“What!?”
“Get me a cannonball!”
Still clinging to the mast, Adam looked to his left and spotted a stacked pyramid of cannonballs just out of his reach. They were locked in place by a wooden support that came up like a tepee. Waves continued to clobber the ship, but Adam narrowed his eyes and released his grip on the mast. He rolled about on the deck at the mercy of the water. Twice he sailed past the cannonballs and slammed into the ship’s railing. The third time he managed to wrap his arms about one of the cannonballs. Holding his breath against the thrashing water, he reached for the bolt and yanked. Another rock of the ship threw him against the cannonballs. Grunting, he pulled again and the bolt flew out. The wooden support cracked under the next wave.
“Oh, shit…” was all Adam could say before the cannonballs were released. They tumbled and toppled over each other like great heavy marbles. One bounced up and thwacked Adam in the head. He fell back, a gash across his forehead, and was carried across the deck by the slick water.
The other cannonballs began to roll in the fast-paced rhythm of the ship. They knocked over crates and crewmembers and sometimes plummeted overboard, causing geysers of brown water to spurt from the sewers.
By now, the outside light from the grates was bright enough to light up the captain’s face as he steered the ship head-on. He showed no fear, no mercy, no precaution. His eyes were stone fists and his hands were steady against the wheel. With another belly laugh, he closed his eyes and prepared for impact.
But Malkav wasn’t ready to die yet. With Fayrelin’s help, they hobbled across the ship’s deck and tried to scoop on any of the loose cannonballs. Despite their high dexterity and nimble fingers, the force of the cannonballs was enough to knock them down. The furious slapping of the waves didn’t help either. Taking a hit in the gut by a runaway cannonball, Fayrelin staggered backwards across the deck. Her legs caved in.
Malkav jumped over her body shoulder-first, seizing the cannonball between his fingers as he collided with the ship, and rolled out of the way. Another cannonball whooshed past his head. Jumping to his feet, he cradled his arms around the cannonball and hurried up the ship’s stairs.
Exthame watched him with a faceless expression as Malkav lurched across the upper deck and straddled onto the front cannon like a cowboy on a horse. He quickly stuffed it full of gunpowder, lying at his feet, and then shoved the cannonball through the casing. When he looked up again, the grate was rising like a giant. It was no more than fifty yards away.
“Wanted a front row seat, lad?” Captain Jargon laughed through the fury of the water. “This is how real Men do it!”
Malkav stared at him with wild eyes. Then he reached down next to the gunpowder, tumbling off the cannon, and lit the fuse. He only managed to crawl away a few feet before a deafening explosion rocketed him forward. The cannonball sailed through the air like a fiery comet, straight towards the metal grates.
“I did it!” Malkav screamed. The cannonball whistled. It struck the center beam of the grates—and then bounced off like a cheap plastic ball. Malkav’s jaw dropped. They were doomed.
But the captain just laughed and Exthame pressed a button and the metal bars began to rise. Hidden gears pushed them up into the sewer walls. By the time the ship reached them, the grate was completely open and the ends of the bars hung down like tiny stalactites. The ship drifted through the grate peacefully. The water died down, the sun beamed down, and the friendly town of Felwinter welcomed them to the world of light once more.
Malkav’s jaw continued to gape. “I… … … You… …”
“Did I scare ye, lad!?” Captain Jargon barreled over in laughter, slapping Malkav on the back. Water sprayed out from Malkav’s lungs. He coughed, sputtered, and then crawled to his feet, a bit uneasily.
“You’re insane,” he managed to squeak.
“No, lad. I am a pirate! Yo-ho-ho!” Without looking at Malkav again, his face turned back to stone. “But I can see how ye could confuse the two.”
Somehow, they had found themselves in the high-walled moat surrounding Queen Isabella’s castle. Behind them, the gears of the grate began to churn and the bars fell back into place. But as peaceful as an evening wave in August, the ship continued to dip through the serene waters, free and naked and full of life. A bird of white squawked by overhead. There were no clouds in the sky, but up ahead there was an opening, a rocky canyon of granite and dirt that led away from the moat. They drifted towards it, coming out on the cool, crystal, yellow waters of a brook that floated down Felwinter’s hillside like a midday dream, while the castle shrank in the distance.
Meanwhile, Adam was helping Fayrelin to her feet and the other pirates were gathering up the leftover cannonballs and storing them in crates. Malkav walked down the stairs, half in a trance, and collapsed on the bottom step with his head in his hands.
“Can you just turn us back over to the Queen now?” Malkav sighed as Adam led Fayrelin over to him. “I think I’ve had it with your little joyride.”
“Can’t do that,” Fayrelin said. “I need you.”
“You need me!? What the hell do you need me for? Don’t you have somebody else you can terrorize?”
“I didn’t rescue you to scare you.”
“Oh, that was just an added benefit!?”
Fayrelin shook her head, smiled, and then plopped down next to Malkav with her arms in her lap. “My friend, you have me figured all wrong. I have bigger plans for you and me.”
“Bigger plans?”
“Yes! Far bigger. You’re going to help us get rich.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’re going to sell me back to Isabella. Thanks for all your help and—oh, by the way—enjoy the blood money, you sick, sick thing.”
“Ha! Blood money. Yes, yes. I suppose your head would be worth something to somebody, but I’m in this for a bigger haul.”
“But you said you were going to…”
“Aw, I just said that to scare you.”
“So you were trying to scare me!”
She laughed.
Malkav didn’t. “…What is your problem? What do you want with me?”
“I told about the sacred beetle.”
Her words seemed to ignite something in Malkav’s chest. His eyes narrowed, then widened, and he slowly reached under the collar of his tunic and wrapped his fingers around the necklace beetle. The Scarab of Earth gleamed, turning his hand a warm shade of green.
“How do you know about that?” he asked warily.
Fayrelin put her hand against his, keeping him from pulling the necklace out into the daylight. “I’ve been following you since the beginning. I’ve been watching you. I know you, Malkav, and the things you’ve done.” Her lips spread. “Like I said, Malkav, I own you. You owe me everything. You’re a part of me now, you know. And you’re going to help me die a very, very wealthy old lady.”
“The beetle’s not for sale,” he said, cupping his other hand over hers. His face hardened and he pried her greedy fingers away.
But she was ready and let go herself. “Foolish boy, your little trinket would barely fetch twenty copper. I said this was bigger than us both, didn’t I?”
“Then what do you want?”
“The treasure of Gravy Bones, of course. You’re going to lead us to it.”
“And how am I going to do that? I don’t even know who Gravy Bones is or where he left his treasure.”
“You don’t,” she smiled, touching the bridge of his nose. Her finger slowly glided down his face, crossing the tracks of his firm lips, and then left a trail down his neck to his chest, where her hand stopped. Her finger tapped the bulge where the scarab beetle was hidden under Malkav’s shirt. “But it does.”
“…The Scarab of Earth?”
“Each piece of the sacred beetle will lead you to the next. The Scarab of Water was buried somewhere in the ocean with Gravy Bones and his treasure. And you, as the keeper of the beetle, are going to find it.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Refuse?” she mocked. “You won’t refuse. You want the Scarab of Water. Yes, that’s right. I know all about your little quest. Reuniting the pieces of the sacred beetle, defeating Sorena, saving the kingdom from total annihilation—blah, blah blah. It’s all a bore to me, really. I just want the treasure.”
Malkav’s eyes shifted to Adam, but the quiet Monk could only shrug. “…And you will let us have the Scarab of Water once we’ve found the treasure?”
“Yes, yes. It will be all yours. Think of it as payment for your help.” She smiled, but it wasn’t the friendly kind. She knew she had Malkav wrapped around her finger. He had no choice but to comply. “Come on, it’s a win-win situation. You get what you want and I get rich. What do you have to lose? Or better yet, what do you have to gain? You need that scarab. You know you do. And this ship is the only one that can carry you to it.”
“How can we trust you?” Adam asked.
“You didn’t trust me to get you out of the dungeon, did you? But I came through for you. Just like I’ll come through again. You need me, boys. So let’s help each other out.”
“…Fine,” Malkav said after a moment, releasing his grip on the necklace. “You get us out to open water and we’ll find your treasure.”
Fayrelin squeezed Malkav’s shoulder. “That’s my boy. I knew you would see things my way.”
“You really haven’t given us much of a choice.”
“That’s true,” Fayrelin laughed and rose, blocking out the sun. She walked away and the ship continued to glide along the stream, passing the enormous coliseum where the Tournament of Champions was ending. Malkav and Adam stood up, leaning with their palms against the ship’s railings, and wondered what had become of their friends. Their thoughts were dark and hopeless, but they didn’t dare speak them aloud.
“Enemy ship ahead!” Blackthorns bellowed from the top of the mast.
Malkav and Adam spun around. “Huh?”
A few yards downstream, a little girl (‘little’ in the sense that she was only twenty times bigger than the pirate ship) was on her knees, playing with a toy boat made from a block of wood. Her hands were interlaced under her chin and she giggled as her makeshift boat swayed back and forth in the calm waves. She didn’t even notice the pirate ship until it pulled up next to her boat.
“Load the cannons!” Captain Jargon commanded. The crew saluted and obeyed, stuffing the side cannons full of gunpowder and cannonballs. The little girl only continued to stare.
“You gotta be kidding me…” Malkav started to say.
But the captain wasn’t kidding. “FIRE! Fire, mates, and blow that ship to the sky!”
The water erupted in a fury of pellet explosions. Nineteen cannonballs soared through the air and turned the toy boat into swiss cheese in a matter of seconds. With little more than a toot and a moan, the toy boat capsized and sank to the bottom of the one-foot creek. Tiny bubbles rose to the surface.
“Pirates rule!” Captain Jargon shouted, raising his sword. His crew did and the ship sailed on, leaving the little girl with her mouth agape and her eyes swelling with tears.
Giantess World
