Donn: The Grim Tower
They had done well at Baharna, selling many of the wares they had brought from Dylath-Leen: bolts of multi-colored cloth woven of Ulthar wool, iridescent textiles from Hatheg, apples from Sinara and Jaren, Dylath-Leen’s own rubies and more, traded for the fragrant resins of Oriab’s inner groves, the delicate porcelain fired by the artists of Baharna, and herbs and spices unique to the island.
They replenished food and water, and the Nausheen set sail for distant Poltarnees, riding the Cirque current eastward. The Torrent swept into the Southern Sea from unknown origins, far south of Zar and Theth, splitting into two great currents, the Cirque flowing eastward toward Ophir and Poltarness before circling around past Cydathria, through the Sunrise Shore and back to Theth once again, and the Black Current, flowing toward the Basalt Pillars of the West, past Thalarion and the mouth of the River Yann before crashing over the Cataract at the Edge of the World to fall for eternity, oft carrying hapless mariners to a fate unknown.
They certainly were not the only ship on this route, but they saw no others once they’d left the bustling harbor of Baharna behind.
It should have been a simple voyage, and a profitable one.
Donn set the course to north-northeast, toward for the Isles of Nariel, hoping to avoid the Grim Forest in the center of the Cirque, between Oriab and mysterious Mtal. The ocean current there slowed to almost nothing, and vast stretches of kelp and other seaborne vegetation made it almost impossible for a ship to escape once trapped.
Countless rumors told of ships pulled into the Grim Forest, trapped there forever, crews eaten by the nameless monsters of the kelp forests. It was true that ships sometimes did go missing, but that happened on every ocean, and who was to say if it was more or less common near the Grim Forest?
Donn had seen the vast stretches of kelp floating on the sea, and vague shapes deeper in, hidden in the constant fog. He thought he had even seen a ship, once, but it was impossible to tell for sure—a back shadow in the fog that vanished again even as he looked closer.
He’d decided years earlier that he’d stay well away from the area even if it did cost him an extra day or two. Better late than dead.
The Nausheen was a good ship, a three-masted merchanter of common design. The deck was quite steep fore and aft, the prow with its forecastle and the foremost mast, while aft was the half-deck with ladders up and down, and the helm and its minimal protection, followed by the tiny poop cabin at the stern. Between them was the ship’s waist, roughly as long as it was broad, packed with all the varied dunnage needed by a ship that sails out of sight of land. In addition to the longboat and a spare mast lashed to one side, the cargo hatch and crane were also found there.
She sailed with a crew of about twenty, many of whom had sailed with Donn for a decade or more. Over the year they’d sailed most of the seas, from Dothur in the East to Sona Nyl in the west, from Zar in the south where the Torrent begins to Inganok and Lomar in the twilight of the frigid north. They knew and trusted their ship, old as she was, and their captain as well.
Donn had been with them through it all, leading them through dangerous situations where lesser captains would have failed, and never forgetting to split the profits (and he was always profitable) with the crew.
As soon as the outline of Mt. Ngranek slipped into obscurity, Donn handed the helm over to Yan of Rokol, a muscular man in his mid-forties who had been at Donn’s right hand for years. It was a bit surprising for a man from inland Rokol to exhibit such an intuitive knowledge of the sea and how to sail, but he’d proven his skill countless times over the years. He had no love but the sea, and his weathered face was always turned to watch the wind and the waves.
Hakim, as was often the case, was relaxed on the forecastle, playing an idle tune on his panpipe in the hope of attracting a dolphin or two to frolic alongside. So far they’d only seen one whale, silently breaching the surface to blow and slip out of sight again, far in the distance.
They were still some ways from the Grim Forest, and the Cirque was strong and fresh here—there should be plenty of fish, and plenty of dolphins to eat them.
Rinshallah of Dylath-Leen, a woman almost as old as Yan but was equally trusted by Donn to helm the ship, relaxed nearby. She was napping, half listening to Hakim and half catching up on her sleep in preparation for taking the night helm later.
Donn retired to the poop cabin at the stern and sat down with the list of goods. Yan would have made sure the cargo was packed properly, with the goods destined for Poltarnees in front for easy unloading, but he wanted to refresh his memory as to what they carried, and what changes they’d made in Baharna: cargo delivered or sold, new cargo bought or accepted on consignment.
All the fruit was gone, of course—it wasn’t worth hauling it to Poltanees to face local competition even if it was possible to keep it fresh on the voyage—but rubies were good everywhere, as were Ulthar wool and the iridescent woven Hatheg cloth. And now they carried a good supply of aromatic resins from the trees of Oriab, and a wide range of prized spices from the islands.
He’s also picked up a few cases of the delicate Baharna porcelain, each piece carefully wrapped in straw to prevent breakage, but those pieces were always a gamble: if a rich noble or merchant happened to see and like them they could be immensely profitable, and if not they were hardly worth the trouble. Trader’s luck.
He’d already deposited much of the gold he’d received in payment with Chóng Lán’s factor in Baharna, keeping a reasonable amount on hand for possible purchases in Poltarness, and emergencies. He and Factor Chóng had an excellent working relationship that brought the Factor all of Donn’s skill and intuition as a trader (not to mention a healthy share of the profit) while Donn retained his freedom.
“Captain!”
It was Yan, calling back from the helm.
“Wind’s picking up a tad and I don’t like the look of those clouds,” he continued.
Donn put the papers back into the oilcloth bag and walked toward the helm.
“Wind seems about the same to me,” he mused, “but those clouds are a bit dark, aren’t they? Expecting a storm?”
“Don’t rightly know, yet,” said Yan. “But the wind is changing and those clouds just don’t look right to me.”
“What do you think?”
“Hmm… might not come this way, but if it does it’ll be a big one, I’m thinking,” replied Yan. “Wait a bit longer to make sure, then get set for some rough weather, I’d say.”
Donn nodded. He trusted Yan’s weather forecasts, proven again and again on the high seas, and even though he couldn’t feel anything different about the wind, or see anything especially unusual about those dark clouds on the horizon, he had no doubt Yan was right.
The only question was whether the storm was headed for them, and a few hours later it was unfortunately very clear.
They were in for a rough night.
The crew got the Nausheen ready for the battle, lashing down everything they could, checking the rigging and sails, preparing safety ropes and pumps, securing the hatches, and more. They all ate while they had the chance, because the galley would probably be impossible to use once the stormwaves started hitting.
The ship was already bucking, climbing up the incoming waves to crash through and slide down the other side, again and again in a repeating cycle that shook them all to the bone and had the Nausheen shivering and groaning.
Though it was still afternoon, the gloom was illuminated only briefly by lightning strikes, lighting the crashing waves and the roiling clouds.
Donn joined Yan at the helm as Rinshallah stayed midship to keep an eye on the sails—now almost all furled—and masts. The ship heeled crazily, waves smashing into the crew, soaking them in cold brine, sweeping them off their feet.
Young Timothy of Celephaïs, who had joined the crew in Dylath-Leen only a month earlier, screamed in terror as he was swept overboard, no rope around his waist. It had either broken or, more likely, he simply hadn’t knotted it tight enough.
They were at least a day away from the nearest land. He was gone.
Donn and Yan pulled on the wheel, striving to keep the ship heading into the wind. If they got hit broadside by those waves it could shatter the ship to pieces.
“Klaus! Help Yan!” shouted Donn to one of the old-timers, a sailor from Daikos. Another trusted crewman, he’s been with Donn for years, too.
At his call Klaus pulled himself along the deck rail to the helm, tying himself there on a second safety line.
Once he had taken over, Donn began working his way up the length of the ship, checking on damage and making sure the crew weren’t injured.
In addition to poor Timothy, two other crewmembers were missing, probably swept overboard.
The bulwark looked undamaged, but the railing around the forecastle was mostly gone.
Hakim had tied himself to the foremast, and despite the battering of the waves and the never-ending shock of the bow as it rose and fell, was staring forward as if challenging the ocean herself.
“Hakim!”
Donn shouted, but Hakim showed no sign of having heard.
He struggled forward, almost toppled by a wave that swept over them both as the ship’s prow dug into the next wave before rising once again.
He pulled himself up and grabbed Hakim’s leg.
Startled, Hakim looked down, and reached to help him to his feet.
“You’ll drown!” Donn shouted. “The forecastle is too dangerous!”
Hakim bared his teeth in what might have been a smile, and signed “Join me?”
Donn shook his head and pulled Hakim again. “Come!”
Hakim pursed his lips for a moment, then loosened his safety line. He’d had enough.
They turned to work their way back toward the middle of the ship, only to find they were not alone.
Moksh and Katerina, both old-timers, were hanging onto the bulwark, looking up at the foremast rigging, and one of the new crewmen, a Khemite named Abbas, was getting ready to climb up to help cut a torn sail loose. Katerina was ready to go, her safety line already in place, waiting to show Abbas how it was done.
“Can the two of you cut it free?” shouted Donn, trying to make himself heard over the storm.
The woman nodded, patted the long dagger sheathed at her side.
Moksh checked Abbas’ knots and swatted him on the back. He was ready to go.
The ship plunged into a towering wall of water, the prow tilting up as the ship groaned under the stress, and there was a terrible shudder as the rudder tore loose, or free entirely.
The Nausheen shivered, and veered ever so slightly off course, turning her portside to the pounding waves, and that was enough for the angry sea. The next wave smashed into them like a battering ram, snapping the mast like a toothpick, broken rigging cracking and flying like whips through the air, the fury of the storm at last unleashed.
Donn felt a rope hit him… somewhere… his head?… he lost consciousness.
* * *
He heard voices. He was wet. His head hurt. His lips were salty. It was hot where it wasn’t wet.
A flood of sensation assaulted him, and he realized he had survived.
He groaned, gingerly opened one eye.
The sunlight was blinding.
“Well, I see our captain is back with us again!”
He squinted.
“Katerina?”
“Yes.”
He opened the other eye, slowly sat up.
“Welcome to your new ship, Captain. We call her the Foremast.”
He looked around as he mapped out the contours of the bump on the back of his skull. No blood but it still hurt when he touched it.
He was draped over part of the foremast, along with pieces of rigging and sail and a few boards that he shared with Katerina, Abbas, and Hakim.
“Hakim! You’re alive!”
Hakim signed back: Wet.
“What about Moksh? And the Nausheen?”
Katerina shook her head.
“We haven’t seen them, or anyone else. We could have been swept far away in the storm.”
Nobody mentioned the other possibility, that the Nausheen had sunk.
Katerina had dragged him to the mast, and Hakim and Abbas had managed to grab it themselves. She said that earlier she had seen a floating body, but as it was face-down in the water she’d left it there. There was a little flotsam, but only a little—Donn was hopeful that the ship had survived.
“You managed to drag me up here by yourself?” asked Donn.
Katerina laughed.
“I’m from Euxodia, remember? You’re a lot lighter than a horse that doesn’t want to move.”
“Well, thank you. I am plump, but it’s nice to know that I’ve yet to approach a horse in size.”
He turned to the others.
“Abbas, Hakim? Are you both alright?”
“Busted arm,” said Abbas. He was holding his right arm, wrapped up in a piece of sailcloth with a fragment of spar as a splint, close to his body. “Would’ve had a hard time climbing up here if she hadn’t pulled me up like a fish.”
“So, what’s the plan?” asked Donn. “Hard to see anything from this low, but at least the sea is calmer now.”
“Thank goodness for that much,” agreed Katerina. “But take a look over there,” she added, pointing to one side.
Donn turned to look.
The waves were much lower there, as if something was floating on top… Donn suddenly realized what he was looking at.
Leaves.
Giant kelp leaves spreading over the surface of the ocean as far as he could see in that direction, until… until… until it vanished into that wall of mist.
The Grim Forest!
“And the current is taking us in that direction, I’m afraid,” she added.
Donn lifted his face to the sky, feeling the air.
“No breeze even.”
“Hasn’t been any since the storm blew over,” said Abbas, spitting into the water. “We can paddle with those planks or just wait. And I’m not very good at paddling with one arm.”
Donn stood up, balancing precariously on the broken foremast. He only had one sandal.
“Can’t see anything at all…” he murmured, scanning the horizon. “No ships, no birds, no nothing… except that mist waiting for us.”
Hakim signed something.
“Hakim says we should still be able to see in the mist, for at least a dozen meters or more. I agree, especially with this sunlight. It should burn off some of that mist by the time we get there.”
“And what do we do once we get there?” asked Katerina. “No food, no water, no shade, no boat.”
“We’ll have to worry about that when we can. For now, we just wait.”
They did what they could to cover themselves from the sun. The water would keep them cool enough, of course, but it was salt water, and eventually they’d need something to drink.
They were still all exhausted from the storm, and the heat and humidity sapped what little energy they had left. They drowsed, lulled by the gentle waves.
Donn opened his eyes.
Something had changed.
He levered himself up on his elbows and looked around.
Hakim and Katerina were awake as well, looking equally curious.
The mast was moving through the kelp, leaving a slowly narrowing path of open water behind it as it pushing through the leaves.
Donn glanced at Abbas. He was still sleeping, and looked like he’d developed a fever. They needed to find some water for him soon, and shade if possible.
“Can you see what’s pushing us?”
The foremast was sliding through the water stump-first. The broken-off mast was several meters from where they had been lying, on the spars, and he carefully walked down the mast toward its base to get a better look.
There was something in the water under the stump. Several blobs of greenish-gray moved, about the size of a man, he thought.
“There’s something there pulling us,” he whispered to the others. Hakim and Katerina stayed where they were, on the spars, to help keep the mast steady. If it should roll they’d all end up in the sea again, and if there was something down there pulling on the mast that might not be a good idea.
They were in the mist now, and as Hakim had predicted, it was not opaque. They could see several dozen meters, Donn estimated although it was difficult to be sure with nothing but ocean and leaves stretching off into the distance.
The sun was still shining, somewhere up in the sky, and there was ample light, but the light was dispersed in the mist, leaving everything unusually bright and glistening.
“Can you see what it is?”
“My size,” he answered, shaking his head. “Gray or green.”
“Sharks?”
He shook his head again, and slowly retreated to rejoin them.
“I can’t see clearly, but it looks like they have two legs, kicking instead of swimming like a fish,” he explained. “The water’s not clear enough.”
“They seem to be dragging us deeper in,” said Katerina. “At least we’re out of the sun!”
Hakim signed to Donn that they could get water from the mist easily, too, and Donn translated.
They wrung out their tunics to squeeze out what they could—a surprising amount—and dripped it into Abbas’ mouth. He needed it more than they did, for now.
Their mysterious swimmers, whatever they were, kept up the pace for hours, and finally as the sunlight began to dim slightly as the invisible sun began to dip toward the horizon, they saw something begin to solidify from the curtain of mist.
Donn nudged the others.
The prow of a ship protruded from the kelp to their left, planks splintered and partially covered in some greenish-white mold. Wood, ropes, flotsam of all kinds floating sullenly between, on, or under the giant kelp.
The leaves, a dark green in color, were enormous, usually lying flat on the turgid waves, but buckled up here and there to reveal yellow undersides.
There were more ships, ships of all sizes, visible in the mist, ghost-ships abandoned to the mist of the Grim Forest, still afloat here even as they rotted away.
“Look! Over there!” said Katerina, pointing.
It looked like a wall, mostly gray but with blotches of various colors showing here and there. Odd bits and pieces of timber and less definite objects stuck out of it without rhyme or reason, as if built into the wall itself.
When the wall was only a few meters away the mast drifted to a halt, and the mysterious swimmers vanished into the darkness of the sea.
Hakim gave a low cough to attract attention, and pointed to a large shape emerging from the mist.
It looked to be another merchanter, probably bigger than ever the Nausheen, thought Donn.
It was level on the waves, and seemed almost free of the unpleasant mold they could see covering almost everything in sight.
“It looks safer than where we are now,” said Katerina.
“Plenty of rope,” agreed Donn. “Let’s do it while we can!”
The three of them collected what rope they could, quickly knotting it into a longer piece.
“Think you can make it, Hakim?”
Hakim nodded, hefted the javelin-shaped piece of spar in his hand.
Donn tied one end of the rope to it, and stood back.
It was impossible to run on the mast, so Hakim stretched back and then swept his leg and upper torso into the throw, hurling the spar into the air with a grunt and a thud as his foot slammed back onto the mast.
Donn grabbed his arm to prevent him from falling in, and they watched the spar arc up onto the ship’s deck.
He pulled it back slowly, checking to see if it had lodged on something or would fall off.
It stuck.
Ever so gently, they pulled their mast closer to the merchanter, until they were snug under its bulwark, the rope stretching up above.
“Katerina? You’re lightest, I think. You go first.”
She pulled on the rope to check it once again, then walked right up the side of the ship with ease.
A moment later her head appeared over the railing.
“OK, come on up. I tied the rope up so it’s secure now,” she said. “I’m going to find something to put Abbas on.”
Hakim signed that it might be better to wait and get Abbas up first, and Donn agreed.
Katerina was back in a few minutes.
“You still down there?”
“Thought we’d stay here and get Abbas up safely first.”
“Ah, good idea,” she agreed. “OK, I thought a chair might be ever better than a board. Sit him down and tie him on; what do you think?”
“Should work. You have enough rope up there?”
“Loads! The ship’s deserted and looks sound!”
The chair, probably from the captain’s cabin, came over the railing a few minutes later, with two ropes tied securely to it.
It looked sturdy enough to hold Abbas and not fall apart when they hauled it up again.
They tied him on—he was still hot with fever and unconscious—and waited for Hakim to climb up the rope to join Katerina on deck.
Between Donn holding him steady from below and the two of them pulling from above, the job was soon done.
Donn pulled himself up and got his first good look at the ship.
It was a beauty of a ship, at least half again as large as his own Nausheen. Most of the sails were furled, although one was hanging in tatters. It didn’t look like storm damage, he thought.
He glanced at the helm and stopped in shock at the emblem mounted there.
It was the red dragon of Ys! One of fabled tribute ships! He looked closer, and confirmed the ship’s name carved below the emblem: Syraxal.
The Kingdom of Ys was a dream within a dream, a vast kingdom said to have dominated almost the entire southern coast from Woth and Tor in the west to Cuppar-Nombo in the east. Some said it was merely a legend, a tale spun for enjoyment, others claimed that Ys had been erased by a dreamquake, a massive disruption to the Dreamlands that only a few talented Dreamers realized had happened, let alone remembered.
His father had told him tales of Ys, and how the entire land had sunk beneath the waves in an instant, leaving only the dark waters of the Grim Forest where once gleaming towers of jade and amethyst had risen.
And now he was standing on the
He walked back to the others.
They had Abbas lying more comfortably now, and Katerina had even found an open cask that had collected water, either mist or rain. It was none too clean but it wasn’t saltwater, and more to the point, it was all they had.
“Ever heard of Ys?” he asked.
Hakim’s head snapped up in surprise. He certainly had.
Katerina cocked her head.
“Some tall tale for winter nights, wasn’t it?”
“This ship is from the Kingdom of Ys,” said Donn. “Take a look at the emblem.”
“But it’s just a legend!”
“It’s the red dragon emblem. I think we should have a look around while we’re here, and find out. We need to find food and water, too.”
Hakim shook his head and pointed out toward the wall they had seen earlier.
Its shape could be seen more clearly from the higher deck. It looked like a giant pipe, about twenty meters in diameter, sticking up out of the sea. The top edge was not flat, but rather traced a shallow spiral, gradually rising up out of the sea to climb about two or three meters around the circumference of the pipe. Where the highest point and the lowest point met, the wall was covered with dozens of greenish-gray creatures, scuttling about in and out of the water, sliding over and under each other in their hurry.
They were constructing the wall, steadily raising the lowest part to match the highest edge, extending it a little more around the circumference in a never-ending spiral.
“What are they doing?” breathed Donn. “And what are they?”
“I don’t understand… did they just start building?” asked Katerina. “Unless we got here at exactly the right instant, they should be well above sea level by now…”
Hakim made a sliding motion with his hands.
“Moving!? Hakim says the tower is moving!”
They looked closer, and Hakim was right: ever so slowly, the tower was dropping deeper into the sea. It would be totally submerged in a matter of days, perhaps sooner, unless the creatures managed to build the wall higher in time.
The creatures… they were vaguely human, with two arms and two legs, but that was about as far as the resemblance went. Hands were broad and webbed, with stubby fingers protruding beyond the webbing, and feet were long and flat, ideal for swimming.
Their heads were wide and pointed in front, with mouths stretching the full length of their jaws. Lizards! Or more accurately, frogs, Donn thought.
The creatures ignored them completely.
“Look! Over there!” said Katerina, pointing to another small group of creatures swimming toward the wall. They were pushing a pile of timber, mostly planks and indeterminate fragments, and as they approached the wall they began to pull off individual pieces, and push them against the surface of the wall.
Donn watched closely to see what was happening.
The pieces stuck when they were placed, and began to melt into the wall, absorbed by it somehow. Their substance became the wall, for the most part, with a few rough corners or forgotten protrusions left hanging.
Nearby, another one of the creatures placed a huge seashell, long and fluted, on the wall, and it, too, began to melt and flow, absorbed. Or eaten.
Donn took his telescope out and looked closer.
The wall was made up of all sorts of materials, their remnants etched into the surface. Planks, rope, a few chains, shells, a fish, a… a man’s face?
Donn looked closer.
Yes, it was a man!
He blinked, grimaced.
He was alive!
“There’s a man there! Alive!” Donn said to the others, and pointed.
He looked closer.
He could see the man’s head and shoulders, and one arm, and couldn’t see any wounds. But why was he lying down so close to the waves? His chest, his… wait, where was the rest of him?
From the chest down, his body had been absorbed into the wall!
No belly, no legs, just reddish-grey wall! And him growing out of it like some obscene flower!
“He’s in it… a part of the wall,” he choked. “It ate him, just like it ate the planks!”
He handed the telescope to Hakim so he could take a look.
After a few minutes Hakim handed it to Katerina, commenting that the creatures were ignoring the half-absorbed man completely, even when he used his single arm to try to hit one. Unable to use any force, his blow slid helplessly off the creatures slimy skin, and it continued swimming past with no sign it even noticed.
The man screamed in frustration. And agony?
“Maybe we can rescue him,” wondered Donn. “They seem to be ignoring him completely. And us.”
Katerina handed the telescope back to Donn.
“To end up like that… half alive, half dead, trapped here in the Grim Forest by these things…”
“Why don’t the froggies stick to it? They’re touching it all the time!”
“It must be that slime they’re covered with,” she said. “Whatever it is, it must protect them.”
Hakim signed again, pointing toward the stern.
“Ship’s boat? I don’t notice one, but maybe,…” said Donn, and they went in search.
The ship’s boat was still there.
It was a small single-master, but still seaworthy.
“Shall we try it?”
“If the boat touches the wall it might stick,” warned Donn. “We need some slime.”
“Should be easy enough to kill one of those things if they keep ignoring us, but I wonder how the others will react if we do… I’d rather not have to fight off a couple dozen angry froggies.”
“There should be some spears aboard, maybe a bow,” suggested Donn. “Keep an eye on things and I’ll go have a look.”
He left the others and slipped below.
He wondered what had happened to the crew… there was no sign of a struggle that he could see, and although things were a bit dirty and dusty, everything looked perfectly normal. And deserted.
He found a bow and arrows in the crew’s quarters, snooped around a bit more, and then headed back to the deck.
“Found one. I’m a pretty good shot, unless you want to try,” he said to Katerina. “I figure if we put an arrow or two into one of those frogs we’ll find out how they react, one way or another. And I think we need to know before we get in that boat.”
Hakim nodded.
“You know,” said Katerina, “if this works we might be able to get out of here after all.”
“Yeah, I know,” replied Donn. “Here’s hoping.”
He nocked an arrow and aimed at the stern, let fly.
It struck into the aftermast neatly, just a touch off-center.
Donn grinned.
“Still a good shot even if I am starving,” he said, and turned back to the wall. “Let’s see now…”
He nocked another arrow and watched the creatures toiling away on the wall for a few minutes. At last one stood alone atop the wall, fairly close to the Syraxal, and he shot.
The arrow flew true, sinking into the frog’s chest up to the fletching.
The creature staggered, swiped at the arrow ineffectually with its clumsy hands, and fell into the sea. One leg kicked once, and again, then it was still.
There was no commotion, no shouts of rage, no sudden host of angry frogs… nothing. The creatures totally ignored the sudden death of one of their own, as they had ignored Donn and his companions.
“I say let’s go get some frogs, then,” said Donn. “Are you with me? Katerina, or will you stay and watch Abbas?”
“We can’t do anything for Abbas anyway,” she sighed. “and you’ll need help with the boat.”
Hakim signed he’d come, too, and together the three of them got the boat into the water.
They quietly rowed to where the dead creature floated and pulled it onboard, taking care to stay far away from the wall itself. It was covered in slime, difficult to grasp or pull, but they managed.
“I think we’ll need another two or three to get the boat covered,” said Donn.
“There’s one coming close on starboard now,” said Katerina.
The boat shook.
It had grabbed the boat and was beginning to push it toward the wall!
Donn drew his dagger and plunged it into the thing’s head with a soft, squishy sound, killing it instantly, and they dragged their second carcass aboard.
“I think we’d better get back to the Syraxal while we can… here come a few more.”
Hakim pulled on the oars and the boat shot away, toward the abandoned ship. As soon as they were more than a few dozen meters distant the frogs lost interest and turned toward another piece of floating debris.
“What do you think? One more for good luck?”
“I think we’ll need another one, Captain,” said Katerina. “Let’s just wait for our chance.”
They spun the boat around, watching the creatures and the wall for another loner, and their patience was rewarded after about ten minutes.
A single frog came swimming toward them, probably looking for more flotsam to add to the wall.
Donn shot an arrow at it, but it glanced off its skull, leaving a greenish furrow in the thing’s flesh.
He shot again, and this time it struck home, and it began swimming in a circle, pawing at its head as it tried to dislodge the arrow.
They rowed closer and put it out of its misery, adding it to the growing pile.
“That should be enough, I think. Let’s get out of here while we can!”
They were back on the Syraxal, and the boat raised back up to the safety of the deck, a few minutes later, their prizes stretched out nearby.
They left the boat hanging by the ropes, and used their hands to slather the hull with slime from the dead creatures. It stung, and their hands began to turn red, so they worked even faster, and then washed themselves off with seawater.
“It burns, dammit!” said Katerina, scratching one hand with the other.
“No help for it. Either this works or we’re frog-bait.”
They carefully lowered the boat again, this time with unconscious Abbas lying in it.
Hakim took the oars again, and they slowed rowed over closer to the embedded man.
“My God! You’re… You’re human!”
His voice was a raspy, breathless whisper, but it was human.
“Donn of Dylath-Leen. What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. Kill me, please! Kill me!”
He was weeping in desperation, his lone arm stretched out toward them.
“We can’t get you out of there?”
“It’s gone, it’s all gone… my legs, gone. It’s eating me, and it won’t let me die! Please!”
Donn looked closer… his body wasn’t embedded in the wall, it was an integral part of it… no seam between them, flesh melted to the stony wall without any border, as if a living man had been carved from the same unyielding material as the wall itself.
“But I can’t just…”
Donn hesitated.
“Please! Kill me!”
Katerina couldn’t stand it, and leaned closer to the man, dagger in hand.
“Your name, man! Tell me your name!”
“Corte-Real, Gaspar Corte-Real of Genoa,” he moaned. “Please, for the love of God!”
She reached to grasp his hair, tilting his head back to expose his throat to her dagger.
The boat rocked violently as one of the creatures grasped the stern, knocking Katerina off balance.
She screamed as Donn reached for her, and she instinctively reached out to catch herself against the wall to stop from falling… and her bare forearm touched it.
She screamed again, her forearm frozen against the wall as tiny tendrils shot forth to wrap around it, pulling it tight against the surface. She toppled from the boat, her body slamming into the wall to be stuck like a fly in honey.
Corte-Real reached up with his hand and snatched the dagger from her hand, ripping it across his own throat without hesitation, screaming in fear and pain and release.
Katerina struggled, screaming, and the boat rocked again.
“Katerina!”
Hakim abandoned the oars, striking the creature at the stern again and again until it let go, and drifted off, squirming in silent agony.
Donn drew his own dagger, weeping.
“Katerina… Mistress Katerina…”
She fell silent, the side of her head pressed against the wall, unable to move. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Captain… do it! Don’t leave me here!”
Donn froze, unable to do what he knew he must.
Donn screamed, and plunged the dagger into Katerina’s heart, and again, and a third time, until she slumped lifeless, suspended by the wriggling tendrils slowly enveloping her body.
He collapsed into the boat as Hakim put his back to the oars, pulling them away from the wall with powerful strokes, away into the mist, and the kelp.
The slime-covered boat slipped away unnoticed, sliding over the giant leaves smoothly, the wall and its hideous inhabitants vanishing into the mist once again.
* * *
“You’re damned lucky we found you, Captain,” said Yan. “We found the bodies of two crewmen and gave them proper burials while we were getting a rudder fixed up, but no trace of you until you suddenly come drifting along, all three of you dead to the world.”
“How’s Abbas?”
“We had to cut that arm off, I’m afraid… it was beginning to rot. I think we got it in time, though. His fever is down, and he’s resting quietly.”
“Thank you.”
“Just the three of you, then…”
Donn hesitated, glanced at Hakim.
“Katerina was with us, but she… didn’t make it.”
Donn fell silent for a moment.
“Yan, can you get us away from the Grim Forest? East, west, it doesn’t matter, just get us as far away as you can.”
“The rudder, such as it is, is working well enough for the time being, and we’ve got enough sails and rigging left… We’re closer to Baharna than anywhere, and should be able to make it there without any problem. We can get her fixed up proper there.”
“Baharna… yes, that would be fine. Please, at once.”
“There may be other poor souls floating yet…” protested Yan.
“Now.”
Donn glanced at Hakim again, who signed in response.
“This is the last trip for Hakim and me, I think… from Baharna we’ll return to Dylath-Leen, and I think we’ll not sail the sea again.”
“Captain Donn, abandon the sea!?”
Yan was shocked.
Donn shivered.
“I hope to never see these waters again…” he whispered.
Yan stared at him in disbelief for a minute, then spoke up quietly.
“And the Nausheen?”
“It’s yours, free and clear,” said Donn.
“I couldn’t accept…”
“And to ensure that she gets repaired properly, Captain Yan, allow me to make a contribution to your profits for the trip, and to the crew for their service.”
He reached into his wallet and pulled out a handful of gold coins and gems, and dropped it into Yan’s hands. He stared at it.
“How did…? What…?”
“Never mind where or how, Yan. I would not have others go seeking what we found,” said Donn. “But Hakim and I have more than enough for our needs, and I feel it only just to repay you for saving our lives.”
“Captain…!”
“No, I am Master Donn now, and you are the captain of the ship, Captain Yan.”
Yan was speechless, a few tears appearing at the corners of his eyes.
“I… Master Donn, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I can never…”
“Don’t, Yan. Take it and prosper with our thanks. Just get us back to solid land!”
Yan hurriedly stuffed the treasure into his own wallet and walked to the door, turning to bow once more, then hurried up to the deck.
“Klaus! Back to Baharna! Get those sails up!”
Donn reached out to Hakim in a wrist-shake, silently weeping.
The ship canted, the sails boomed as they caught the wind, and they were on the way home.
END
