Deadhouse Landing

Kallor raised a hand for silence and studied the smoke intently. After a time he nodded as if at some conclusion, then covered the pot with its lid. ‘We wait,’ he announced, not even turning to face Lars. ‘Something strange is coming.’

Lars eyed the quiet coast, uninhabited but for a few modest fishers’ huts. What could possibly be coming that this fiend would be wary of? Whatever it might be, Lars decided that he certainly wanted nothing to do with it. Still, land, animals, larders … ‘But perhaps there is food,’ he whined before realizing it, and he flinched, covering his head, ready for a kick or a blow.

Their tormentor turned to him, scowling his profound disgust. ‘There are fish, aren’t there?’

Lars glanced at the listless, huddled crew. Fish! Of course! ‘But,’ he ventured, bowing, ‘what can we use as bait?’

Kallor had started back to his cabin, but he paused, glancing at Lars. His deeply lined mouth drew up in an evil one-sided smile. ‘Those rotting bodies you have hidden below, I should think.’ And he slammed the door shut.

Lars started guiltily. He eyed the ragged sailors, who stared back, blinking, almost uncomprehending. He pointed angrily. ‘You’ve been nibbling too! I know it! Now get some lines over the side!’

The sailors shuffled to obey.

*   *   *

Dassem sat before a modest fire next to a small series of half-buried walls and toppled stone arches. It was not night, as he would understand it, though the mage Kellanved had called it that. It was more like an overcast dusk, the sky a dark iron, the shadows thick and heavy. Sighing his impatience, he made a show of warming his hands. In his opinion this was a stupid errand. They should be on the island; it was clear to him that the power base these two counted on was not secure. Enemies remained within striking distance and ought to be eliminated. Greater consolidation was necessary, yet here they were, wasting precious time.

A dark shape came looming out of the dusky sky. Its ragged membranous wings flapped loudly as it descended to alight on an arch of ancient stones across the fire from him and he sat back, studying the strange cross between a pelican and a bat.

At last, he thought.

The creature paced atop the stone ledge. ‘A fire?’ it cawed harshly. ‘You sit here plain as day and light a fire? Don’t you know where you are?’ Dassem opened his mouth to answer but the beast cut in, ‘Never mind! Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want?’

He thought through the answers the mage had schooled him in and responded, casually, ‘I just thought I’d take a stroll…’

The beast pressed the tiny hands on its wings to its head. ‘A stroll! Ancient ones! What have we come to?’ It swept a wing to encompass the desolate surroundings. ‘What does this look like? A garden pastoral? Have you no respect?’

‘It seems quiet enough,’ Dassem answered.

The thing cackled a cawed laugh. It shifted its tiny black pebble eyes left and right. ‘You’ll see. Soon enough.’ It pressed a tiny hand to one earhole, head cocked. ‘Any time now…’

Dassem peered round as well, as if curious.

‘Yup. Any moment…’ The creature dropped its little hand. ‘They should be here by now.’

‘What should?’ Dassem asked.

‘Shut up, fool.’

Dassem sat back, sighing. ‘Please?’ he called loudly.

The thing frowned its confusion at him. ‘What’s that? Please? Why?’ It hopped then, startled, peering round at the ruins. ‘Who’s there? Gaahh!’ It leapt into the sky but shadows came lashing about it like knotted ropes and it fell tumbling to the sands.

Dancer came charging out from among the fallen stones to stand over it. Kellanved strolled along behind.

‘You!’ the creature gaped, astonished. ‘How did you…?’

Kellanved shrugged modestly, waved his walking stick. ‘Oh, it was nothing really. I just—’

‘Enough,’ Dancer cut in. To the beast: ‘Who do you work for?’

‘Go to the Abyss.’

Kellanved planted his stick into the sands and sighed his disappointment. ‘You really should cooperate.’

‘I will tell you nothing. Nothing.’ It struggled to raise one little hand, thumb and finger pinched together. ‘See this? You are this. Tiny. A flea. Nothing. Shadow will swallow you.’

‘We shall see.’ He nodded to Dassem and Dancer, and the two grasped the thing’s feet and dragged it off.

‘What are you doing?’ it demanded. ‘What’s going on?’

Dancer directed Dassem to a dark hole exposed among flagstones in the middle of the ruined building. They held the bat-like creature at the hole’s lip.

Coming along behind, Kellanved offered, ‘One last chance. Who is in charge here?’

‘Kiss my furry—’

Dassem and Dancer let it fall. They heard it thump to the floor far below.

‘What’s this?’ it squawked. ‘Bodies? There are bodies down here!’

Kellanved nodded to the stone that had covered the hole and Dassem began edging it towards the space. ‘Do you wish to talk now?’ he called.

‘Only if you join me!’