Prepared for Sacrifice

Day 8, June 6th 703 CR

As it had been Pols who had so succinctly told the dragon off that evening, it came as no surprise to Zyn that the very first thing he woke to the next morning was the sailor screaming his head off, screeching like a frightened girl. Instantly filled with dark yet curious glee, he awoke and was greeted with the sight of the squat sailor sitting stiff and upright where he had been sleeping, now screaming... and bald. As in completely and utterly smooth scalped, even his eyebrows were gone; the whole thing looked distinctly odd as Pols was now crowned by a cap of exposed pale skin. Even his normally shaggy limbs were smooth as a baby’s bottom, flailing about wildly in frantic panic before swinging down, gripping open his pants and staring aghast.

Packing around like a gaggle of hungry vultures the others piled in around in some morbid shoving match to see just what horrid spectacle Xayk had done in the night. The dragonhad talked about testicles a lot the previous night, had he gone and...

Zyn joined the others clustered around the squat sailor, and saw...

“Um... wow,” Lum said profoundly.

Grumiah blinked. “He got that too?”

“Well, I guess when he decided to make you bald he took ‘from head to toe’ to a whole new level of literal,” Zyn commented. Pols was too shocked and stupefied to respond. Beside them Parn peeked his head in to get a closer look, slightly pushing Zyn aside, who did a double take at the mage’s head. “Uh, Parn, your hair...”

The mage instantly felt at the top of his head and widened his eyes at the Mohawk he was now sporting.

“Wait, what in the pagan hells?” Lum asked as he caught sight of the unorthodox haircut.

“You... neither of you felt anything during the night?” Zyn asked. “Do you remember anything at all?’

Pols shook his head, still in shock. “Nothin. Nothin at all.”

Head scratchings followed. “How’d he pull this in the middle of the night without the slightest peep?” Lum wondered, “I mean there’s not a hair left on your body?”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Pols muttered. “That crazy ass dragon...”

“You were the one who demanded he shut up last night,” Lorian pointed out.

“But how does that explain the mage?” Grumiah asked.

The answer came quite suddenly from behind. “Simple, he doesn’t look quite as drab,” the dragon spoke up, startling the whole lot of them. “Now he’s got flair!” Xayk exclaimed as he sat on his haunches grinning like an idiot, wearing a motley, haphazardly stitched and thrown together hat made out of several different colors of hair.

Pols’ eyes, already wide, practically bulged out of their sockets. “H-hey! That’s my hair, that’s mine!”

“Nuh-uh,” the dragon retorted, “Mine now. I think it makes me look quite fashionable,” he declared as he adjusted the impromptu wig on his head. “Well, we gotta get going, we’ve got a cave to explore!”

A collective wave of moans and sighs ushered, causing the dragon to look at them confused. “What’s the matter, you guys sick or something? Well, as they always told me as a hatchling, ‘the toast is radiating and much too soggy.’” Without further ado Xayk snapped around, knocking Zyn and Lum over with his tail, and promptly marched off in the direction of the cave.

“The toast is... what?” Grumiah asked.

Lorian shrugged. “Perhaps it’s better that we don’t ask.”

---

Heading in to the dark and totally unknown abyss in the bowels of that cave, the men naturally reached for the assorted spears and torches they had been fashioning; indeed it seemed like they never stopped making due to their many abject failures, but Xayk insisted that they were unnecessary. Zyn and some of the others thought otherwise and wanted to be on the safe side, but thoughts of doing contrary to what the dragon said seemed... unwise.

And so for the third time Zyn entered the cave, watching his surroundings progressively darken as they left the light of day behind. It got to the point where they were almost walking blind before Xayk unleashed his ambient light spell, revealing the dragon this time as a short, wrinkled old geezer sporting a frown so deep it looked engraved on his face. And, of course, on top of his shriveled otherwise bald head sat the impromptu wig made of Pols’ (and probably a little bit of Parn’s) hair. “Well let’s not be waitin’ youngins,” he rasped rather crotchedly; he even had a walking stick that he started swinging about to emphasize his points, a walking stick that Zyn couldn’t help but notice was blindingly loud purple. “We gots us a door to open!” he declared as he knocked Lum aside with his cane for no good reason.

Having been through the passage before, Zyn figured that the descent would progress quicker, but in truth each rockface looked exactly like the one before it, and time seemed to crawl just as slowly heading down as the last time. This wasn’t particularly pleasant when considering the experiences they had had with this cave already and what horrible nightmares they could only imagine lurked behind that massive door. The mood was sufficient to kill any jovial banter between the sailors, though in truth Pols probably would have been unusually silent anyway what with every last follicle of hair being shaved from his body.

“Now,” Xayk’s old-man voice rang out, “we’re here.” Indeed, now they stood before the massive structure, looming like an underground gate to a realm of the undead, or perhaps even one of the pagan hells themselves. Xayk called Parn over who sighed and hurried onto the small slab of stone opposite their host. And they began chanting.

The men sat tight, trying not to think about their most recent brush with evil (or at least evil sounding) spells atop the island’s main plateau just a couple days before. And here they were, waiting for the dragon to mess with magic some more so he could use them in whatever twisted goal he had wound up in that crazy mind of his.

Minutes dragged on and on with nothing but chanting between the two magic users, and the rest of them just kind of stood there; when their legs inevitably started to ache this changed to sitting and lounging around. One or two times the sailors tried to get a conversation going, but it never got going more than one or two sentences before fading back into the silence.

Finally, after what had to be over an hour, Xayk suddenly called out “Ding dong done!” And with that a soft glow suddenly lit up the door and with a great whoosh of air the massive structure swung open, though other than that the whole process was eerily silent. The door’s opening revealed at long last what lay on the other side, which appeared to be just more cave. No one moved though, as if taking in the scent of the air beyond to check for the smell of evil. The only thing Zyn could smell was that of moist, dank cave air, which still in and of itself made him less than at ease.

“Alrighty youngins, ain’t no use sittin here till all o’ ya start decomposing!” Xayk explained before hobbling off down the dark passage himself, taking his light spell with him. Not wanting to be left in the dark, the six men scurried after like a pack of ankle biters hurrying after their owner.

Huddling together so close that several times they almost crashed and piled up, the men followed Xayk as they descended into the foreboding depths, ever watchful for whatever evil was lurking around the next corner waiting to swallow them whole. They crept forward in whispered silence, though they worried somewhat about the light Xayk was casually throwing around. Lorian asked the dragon about it, but Xayk didn’t respond at all to his queries.

The rock walls subtly morphed in appearance the deeper they went, and soon a near constant dampness prevailed in the air along with several accompanying smells they couldn’t quite describe.

That, and the walls started to glow.

“Hey,” Grumiah whispered delicately, “What is that?”

“What’s what?” Lum asked.

“That,” he pointed ahead, “up there, the walls are bluish for some reason.”

Lum squinted his eyes. “I don’t see nothing.”

“I do,” Zyn offered, “Um, Xayk?” he offered as gently as was humanly possible, “Could you, uh, turn down your light a bit?”

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but Xayk offered a wry smile... of sorts. It also kinda looked like a devilish, hungry grin. “Ah, you youngins wantin’ to see them mushrooms, aren’t cha?” he said as he obligingly dimmed down his light.

“The what?” Parn asked. Xayk merely pointed ahead as his ambient light disappeared entirely.

At first it seemed as though his entire world grew dark, but the very faint blue glow they had spotted gradually grew brighter. Irregular, organic looking formations of an eerie incandescent blue glow shone in the dark, giving a surprising amount of light off.

“Those are mushrooms doing that?” Grumiah asked in awe.

Parn, surprisingly, was the first to approach the glowing fungus. “Definitely a fungus of some kind. I know of alchemists who would sell their own arms and legs for ingredients with this property.”

Immediately Pols squirmed through the others and started grabbing some of the mushrooms, stuffing large quantities into his pants. “What?” he asked innocently, “If we ever get off this rock we could make a bit of easy money.” The sailor promptly stuffed his pants to the breaking point with the stuff, rendering his resulting gait somewhat awkward.

Parn offhandedly remarked that many mushrooms had toxic side effects, and the glowing property itself might have other unforeseen side effects. Zyn casually added that he heard of men whose manly parts had succumbed rather poorly to new and unknown alchemical ingredients.

The squat sailor felt his stash oddly, then dropped a few of his prizes on the ground, then a few feet along as they started forward again he dropped some more mushrooms; then some more. Finally Grumiah had to chastise Pols for clearly marking the path they were taking with discarded glowing mushrooms for all to see. Pols protested that he was also making it so they themselves wouldn’t get lost, and Xayk just pointed out that as long as they followed him and “said sweet things” to his ears they didn’t have to worry about getting lost.

“Now why am I going to be worried when I go to sleep tonight?” Lum whispered.

The next few minutes were uneventful until Xayk suddenly signaled for them all to stop, a command with which they complied with, dead in their tracks. With only the ever present but irregularly placed glow of the mushrooms to guide them, they watched with bated breath for any sign of movement in the tunnels ahead and beside them. “Something’s down there,” Lorian whispered, pointing down a passage to the left, causing everyone to hunker down slightly. In utter silence they sat for long agonizing moments as they watched, and indeed something did move down the passage. As they watched though, it didn’t appear as anything at all normal.

“What is that?” Grumiah whispered as quietly as possible. Something was moving, but it seemed to be floating lazily through the air.

“Is that... a fish?” Parn suddenly asked.

Before any of them could respond, Xayk brought up his light spell just a smidgen, revealing a long scaled fish swimming right through the air.

“That’s... not something fish usually do,” Zyn remarked.

“Ya think?” Lum responded.

“What the pagan hells is this?” Pols whispered. “I don’t know about the rest of you but this cave seems pretty messed up to me.”

“That...” Parn searched for the words. “That is a large amount of magic. It cannot be anything random, something such as that would have to be rigorously aligned and laid.”

“You’re saying someone left spells down here for fish to just float through the air as if it’s nothing?” Lum asked. “Deliberately? Seems like an awful waste of time.”

“Or,” Zyn pondered, “maybe it isn’t meant specifically for fish.” Turning to Xayk, he asked “You said something about mer and wereorcas yesterday?”

“Yup,” Xayk smiled, twirling his cane, “That I did.”

“Well now I’m just full of excitement,” Pols muttered. “Can’t wait to meet these folks.”

“Don’t worry youngin,” Xayk said, “with luck we will.” Pols scowled in response.

Leaving the floating fish behind them, each step farther down seemed to tighten the air’s grip upon them, as if it were trying to squeeze the life out of them. It was almost a tangible presence; Zyn felt like he could just reach out and touch the lingering taint in the air.

And ominous clicking sound echoed somewhere ahead, causing them all to freeze in place once again.

“That would be blorgs,” Xayk said.

“You mean it’s the same as what attacked Lum?” Pols asked.

Xayk merely nodded in reply.

“Are they going to bump into us?” Zyn whispered.

“That’d be a bit unlikely,” Xayk responded, “Blorgs ain’t the smartest things in the world. You kinda have to bump right in front o’ them. Or get ‘em riled up,” he added seconds later.

The seven of them gave the distantly clicking creatures a wide berth, or at least as wide a berth as they could be sure of with this confusing cave. They went wherever Xayk lead them, and that path was ever twisting and turning, going this way and that, curving around so many times that Zyn and the others were hopelessly turned around and lost. Even if they wanted to turn around at this point, they simply wouldn’t be able to find their way out of this labyrinth, the only one who knew the way out was Xayk... right?

Looking at the dragon in his rather strange old-man guise, Zyn briefly entertained the terrifying possibility that Xayk had no idea which way he was turning.

“Uh, Xayk?” he asked, “You do know where we’re going, right?”

“Oh, you worrin ‘bout getten lost? Don’t cha worry, the monkeys that’ve been eatin bunches of these funny mushrooms know exactly where we’re goin.”

Xayk proclamation did not exactly cheer the mood of the men. Zyn was about to mutter a curse when further down the branching passages they heard what could only have been someone else’s voice. Again they froze, though this time there was an added urgency to the action. A voice meant something that could think, could react, get angry and skewer them. Such fears were only added to when the voice became voices, and Zyn swore they were louder. More silence, during which the men were frozen still as statues. Yet again the voices came back, even louder and closer.

“Hunker down, now,” Grumiah whispered as quietly as possible. Zyn found a particularly dark alcove completely shielded from the soft blue glow of the mushrooms, the light of which by now his eyes had adjusted to quite well, and laid down absolutely flat. He stilled his breathing and stayed still watching and waiting as whatever it was now silently approached.

They didn’t have to wait long. A mere five feet in front of him through an intersecting passage a dark shape slid past, glistening oddly in the dark, a shimmering like that of hundreds of tiny water droplets, shining as diamonds. Splotches of white were interspaced among it, especially along the underside. On the whole though, it was largely indistinct in the dark except for the large head with a neck that was so large it seemed a part of the body, and the thick arms that hung alongside, ending in webbed hands. There was also the complete absence of legs. Instead it, like the fish they had encountered earlier, moved about horizontally above the floor, a giant, shimmering fluked tail lazily waving up and down behind it. Immediately following was a similarly shaped creature, moving with a lazy indifference to its surroundings, completely oblivious to the possibility that there were intruders just feet from it. The both of them passed by without the slightest indication that the seven interlopers were even there.

Zyn held his breath the whole time and nearly forgot to breath until they passed. Living creatures of myth had just “swam” through the air not feet away from him. Even though he had just been introduced to a dragon not two days earlier, the amazement was no less.

No one moved for the longest time, just laying in wait for the coast to be clear. Not until they had not heard anything for a good five minutes did they so much as stir, checking this way and that making absolutely sure that they were alone. “What the hell were those things?” Pols whispered harshly.

“Whadya think they were?” Lum said.

“Those were lycanthropes?” Parn asked.

“Well they sure weren’t altar boys,” Grumiah declared.

Only minutes later a bit further down they heard more voices, and lo and behold something floated past about twenty yards ahead. This time though, their form was much more human, albeit still with a large fluked tail rather than legs.

“I’ll be damned,” Lum whispered. “Actual merfolk.” Beside him Grumiah chuckled. “What?” Lum said somewhat defensively.

The quartermaster just smiled. “You sail across the seas enough times, you merfolk quite often. And I mean mermaids and not just the men.”

“You sure those that was a mer?” Pols asked. “Aren’t they supposed to have scaly... er, tails? That one almost looked like a dolphin.”

This time it was Lorian who smiled. “That’s what the tales say they look like,” he said with dripping irony.

“Are we sure that was a simple mer?” Parn asked. “Cannot lycanthropes change forms though?”

“Wait,” Lum said, “wouldn’t... are you saying those wereorca things were merfolk?”

Lorian nodded. “Generally, they are. And as to Parn’s question, they can indeed do so.”

“Then those two we almost bumped into were mer too, at least once upon and time, anyway,” Zyn said.

“That one that just past wasn’t any lycanthrope,” Xayk cut in.

“How do you know that?” Pols demanded.

Xayk didn’t reply, he just stared off into space as if looking for something, fiddling with his cane as he silently twirled it through the air.

“Um,” Lum whispered to the other sailor, “he is a dragon.”

Feeling his bald head, Pols just shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

“So, what then?” Grumiah tried to think it through, “Those are just normal, unaffected mers living right side by side with the cursed ones in the same cave?” he said dubiously.

“I did talk about this yesterday already youngin,” Xayk said ever so testily, causing them all to take a collective gulp.

“So why are they tolerating each other?” Lorian ventured.

“Don’t cha remember? That’s the whole reason we’re down here; to find out exactly that.”

Dusting themselves off, they continued following the dragon who now seemed to be in a turning frenzy; as the tunnels branched all the more as they descended they turned around more than a band of drunken fools. Just when Xayk turned around about three times in a row, he darted his wrinkled form toward a small alcove only about three feet tall but extremely wide, wide enough almost for all of them to scrunch down side by side. This in fact was exactly what Xayk then insisted they do, eliciting a few grumbles, Zyn included. But they got down on their knees and followed Xayk through.

Some scrapes and shoulder scrunching later, the midget sized tunnel blossomed out into a somewhat large, dimly lit chamber beyond. It was here that Zyn could almost taste the taint in the air, filled with an unspeakable foulness that caused several of the men to cross themselves with the sign of the yew. Was this the source of what he and Lum had felt just days ago? Regardless, it seemed likely that whatever it was Xayk was interested in (somehow Zyn doubted that it was simply the reason the mers and wereorcas were coexisting; there had to be more to it than that), this could very well be it. Which meant that no matter what any of them thought of all this they were coming along for the ride.

Peeking past the edge that was now visible, Zyn saw the short passage open out about five feet above the floor of the chamber. With walls adorned with sculptures long since faded to time and dust, the entire hall was dimly lit, with the exception of the center, where a large chiseled altar lay, flanked on the near side by two floating individuals in ornate, jeweled garments. One, on the left, appeared to be a wereorca, the other a “normal” mer (as if such creatures could be considered normal). If he had to guess, Zyn would have surmised they were both priests of some sort, what with their elaborate clothes and the fact that they passed between them a large ritualistic looking knife decked with jewels. Though their backs were turned toward the men as they huddled in their dark squat alcove, the tension between the lycanthrope and his “normal” counterpart was obvious; as the normal mer priest passed the knife and the were accepted it, they both held the stabbing implement for the same moment, neither letting go. A brief look of challenge passed between the both of them, and for a moment Zyn thought someone was about to get stabbed. The mer let go of the knife though, and turned to say a few words in some unknown tongue to the altar.

Zyn craned his neck to see past the two priests to the altar itself. The tongue he was speaking sounded wholly unnatural to his ears, a thin, high pitched collection of whistles, buzzes and trills. What was he talking to; was he uttering some kind of spell or curse?

At that moment the lycanthrope bobbed its tail and swam away (Zyn still couldn’t quite get over the fact that they were swimming through air) revealing the altar had an occupant, and quite an unwilling one by the looks of it. A mer was bound by hands, neck, and tail by taut chains that had to have been biting into his flesh; cuts and countless bruises splotching his otherwise healthy frame. It wasn’t clear just what those two priests had in mind for the poor bastard chained to the altar, but it wasn’t liable to be pretty.

The lycanthrope uttered more strange words in his high airy voice, and a strange light lit directly above the shrine; some crystal that had been dark before suddenly lit with a blinding light. For a moment the men were worried that they’d now be seen, but Xayk motioned for them to hush. As Zyn blinked his vision was almost entirely occupied by the singularly bright crystal; it was not one that illuminated well and only the altar and its immediate surroundings made clear by it.

Whatever it was, it gave Zyn the heeby jeebies. Its light was less illumination than the fierce burning of souls, encapsulated in suffering. If there had ever been an evil object that Zyn had laid his eyes upon, this was it. The chained mer seemed to sense it too, squirming against his shackles in a futile effort to put any distance at all between him and that abomination. The wereorca priest laughed at the captive’s discomfort, then ushered a few more words causing the crystal to darken once more.

The mer priest snatched the crystal from its resting place, uttering a few profanities from the sound of it, prompting a couple of jeers from his counterpart. Watching each other distrustfully, they both hovered cautiously out of the chamber, leaving the sacrificial victim behind and alone to contemplate his fate.

“What do we do?” Lum whispered. Zyn turned to Xayk to see if he had anything to say, but the dragon merely watched the chamber almost impassively. Grumiah gazed at him, waiting for the dragon to say his piece, but Xayk remained silent. Finally, Lorian gestured for the others to follow him as he crawled back a ways to ensure that their voices did not carry into the chamber.

“Keep your voices down,” Grumiah cautioned, “we don’t know how our voices will carry in this cave.”

“So are we just gonna lay here and let that poor bastard rot or no?” Lum suddenly demanded.

“Oh yeah, and just what are we gonna do?” Pols demanded back, “just waltz right down there and spring him ourselves?”

“Why not?” Grumiah said. “There’s no one in there right now; he’s completely unguarded. If we were to ever spring this guy, now’d be the time to do it.”

“And we’d sneak him out how?” Lorian asked. “He’s obviously of some importance to them being a living sacrifice, they’re not going to miss the fact that he’s gone.”

“We could sneak out the same way we got in,” Lum pointed out. “We got down here without raising any cries of alarm.”

“Yes,” Lorian conceded, “but that was because Xayk led us down here past them.” The men were silenced by that remark, and all eyes drifted to the old man who continued to stare out into the sacrifice chamber.

Zyn sighed, then just spat out what they were all too afraid to ask. “Well Xayk? What are you going to do?”

Xayk turned around and gazed at them curiously. “You all look like grown men to me, I ain’t here to babysit you whippersnappers.”

Figures.

“Er, ok then,” Lum said, “Let’s grab that guy and get out outta here.”

“Hey, hey,” Pols objected, “and we just know the dragon’s gonna just guide us out again?”

“Watch how ya talk about yer elders, youngin,” Xayk shot sternly.

“Well are you going to guide us out or not?” Zyn demanded, politely of course.

Xayk seemed to ponder this for a moment before replying, “Would you believe me if I said no?”

Pols made a slapping motion across Lum’s head. “See?”

“Well, you really shouldn’t believe me all the time,” Xayk added.

Lum blinked. “Sooo, you’re not saying you won’t guide us?”

“No.”

“What?”

“No as in no I won’t not decline to not negate an answer that doesn’t not end in a resounding no,” Xayk insisted. “Whadya think I meant by it?”

“Er...”

“Look,” Zyn said, “If Xayk wants to screw us over he can do so at anytime, and if he does there isn’t much we can do to stop it anyways. So let’s just go and prevent, I don’t know, human sacrifice from occurring?” With that sudden declaration he turned about and proceeded to sneak down into the sacrifice chamber, the others too stupefied to stop him.

“Hey!” Pols hissed after coming to his senses. “It isn’t really ‘human’ sacrifice, you know?”

“Yeah,” Lum said, “He’s a bit different and all, but then again so are you and that hasn’t stopped me from saving your sorry behind all these years,” and the bearded sailor promptly followed after Zyn, and himself was trailed by Grumiah.

“Come on Pols,” the quartermaster commanded. “We’re here now so we might as well do some good.”

“Oh damnit,” Pols muttered, “Why do I always end up with the crazies?”

In a minute all six of them were crouched low on the floor of the sacrificial chamber, sticking to the shadows, to be joined by Xayk who effortlessly and silently jumped down. The shrine’s illumination was principally from the mushrooms, which seemed to have been cultivated to grow around the altar providing it with a great deal of light. This in and of itself made approaching the altar itself risky, but Xayk insisted that the coast was clear. Shrugging, Zyn and the sailors exchanged looks, during which Pols grumbled heavily under his breath, and they all scurried straight to the altar. Here’s hoping the dragon isn’t screwing us, Zyn thought.

The mer chained to the altar caught sight of the men and craned his head as far up as his neck brace would allow. Absurdly huge, black eyes widening, he said something in some alien tongue to them as they approached, and Zyn couldn’t help but wince at the more than desirable volume.

Lum made a slashing motion with his hand, hoping the mer understood. “Just keep quiet, fishboy, we’re here to get your ass outta here.”

“I’m not a fish, nor am I a boy,” the mer responded rather irately in Common. At least they wouldn’t be having a communication problem. Thank Eli for small mercies.

“Stow it, fishboy,” Pols shot. “Ain’t a good idea to get into silly fusses with the people who’re here to rescue you.” They finally reached the captive, tied down with his chains which they began feverishly undoing.

Snapping the last of the off, Grumiah helped the mer up and declared, “Now come on, we’ve got him so we’re getting out of here now.”

“Uh,” Zyn said, looking at Xayk, “If that’s alright with you.”

Xayk suddenly grinned, which didn’t quite make Zyn feel better. “Only if you dance with me!”

Zyn wasn’t quite sure how to react to that one. “Er, does... now?”

“Nah, maybe a bit later. Right now we have to get back and have a party with Steve!”

---

Several times during the long, dark journey back to the surface several resident lycanthropes and mer came close to crossing their path, but the men had the good fortune of not being detected. Zyn suspected Xayk could possibly be doing things to help their stealth along, but he of course could ascertain nothing for certain. The mer they had just rescued seemed to have no problems floating around until they apparently hit the end of the levitation spells that had been laid out; one moment he was hovering through the air and the next he... wasn’t. With a solid slam he splatted right onto the ground atop Parn’s foot.

“Gotta watch out, fishboy,” Pols grumbled.

“He couldn’t have seen that coming,” Grumiah insisted. The mer continued to make sharp glares at the sailors. Part of Zyn couldn’t blame the mer for viewing his rescuers with unease; to him they were a completely alien people who spoke strange and acted stranger. If he himself were in such a position he might have acted the same way.

The end of the levitation “lines” that had been laid out meant their liberated captive had to be carried the rest of the way up, a duty that Zyn and Grumiah ended up taking, seeing that the merman objected like a woman at the wrong time of the month at the prospect of either Lum or Pols carrying him, apparently still smarting from their first words with him. He wasn’t exactly light either so Zyn was quite winded by the time they all scurried past the great stone door.

“Why are we stopping?” Parn demanded as they all took a momentary break. “Will not those things follow us?”

Xayk responded with a chuckle, which in his old-man guise sounded more like a long wheeze than anything else. “I’m not thinking they’ll quite be able to. First, the levitation enchantments ended quite a while back, and if you’ve been paying any attention to our watery friend here, you’ll see why that might give ‘em a bit of a hard time.”

He ceased speaking, ushering in empty silence in response. “And second?” Grumiah asked.

The quartermaster’s question was promptly answered with a sudden whirring of air, followed by the massive door swinging closed like it were made of flimsy wood. “Well then?” Xayk asked nonchalantly, “Are we going to just sit here or head back up and grab some grub? Cause I’m starvin’ and Steve gets all bitchy when he gets hungry.” For whatever reason none of them wanted to see or even contemplate a “bitchy” Steve, so Zyn and Grumiah hoisted the merman up again and carried, up... and up... and for a change up some more. By the time they hit daylight Zyn’s legs were about to fall off, and with no more than getting Lum to help their liberated prisoner along he unceremoniously plopped to the ground.

It wasn’t so much that it was a heavy job carrying the mer all the way up, though it was a handful, than it was that older, more chronic pains that were asserting themselves. Balling his fists, Zyn breathed to offset the terrible discomfort in his abdomen, a clenching, tightening sensation that had more than enough force to physically knock him out. Indeed, it had done just so in the past on numerous occasions.

“What’s with you?” Pols asked as he saw Zyn on the ground clutching his belly. “You go off and eat something you shouldn’t have?” Though he was more or less civil, an aura of hostility was never far off, waiting for the slightest provocation. Of course, the fact that the sailor was now utterly bald made his visage more or less humorous, making it easier to not be irritated by him.

“Nothing,” he replied, “Just some stomach cramps.”

The short, bald sailor didn’t look quite convinced, but he just grumbled something incomprehensible and went away, leaving Zyn in peace to deal with his pains.

A good five minutes were enough for his abdomen to stop constricting. As he hefted himself off the ground, he noticed Parn standing a good distance away, trying and failing to not look like he was gawking at Zyn, who silently chuckled to himself and approached the mage. It wasn’t to say anything about Parn’s gawking, rather he had something different in mind.

“When we were in the cave, could you see the levitation enchantments?”

The mage blinked at the somewhat out of the blue question. “What?”

“The levitation spell,” Zyn repeated, “the one that the whole cave was filled with; could you detect it?”

“Well,” Parn said, pondering the query. “I did somewhat; there were difficulties separating it from the surrounding energies, but—”

Zyn held his hand up to stop the mage before he really started to ramble. “So you can detect enchantments?”

“Er... Mage sight is not something I’ve especially studied, but if I am concentrating hard enough,” he paused catching himself rambling again. “Basically,” he shrugged.

“Good,” Zyn declared. “Have you noticed if there are any other magic lines about, especially on the surface?”

“I have noticed some things, but it is all very... strange. I cannot fathom most of it. I suppose Xayk may have laid down spells during his exile here, but...” He eyed Zyn somewhat worriedly. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing,” Zyn assured him, not wanting to mage to fret and freak out. “Just... keep an eye out for anything suspicious, especially if it looks new.” He started to turn away before a thought bubbled up in his mind. “While you’re at it, check the campsite; see if there’s anything residual from his little... exploration into being a barber. He had to have used some kind of magic to do what he did without waking any of us.” Parn felt his own head at the reminder, his own Mohawk prominently serving to reinforce the dragon’s unpredictable qualities.

Deciding to catch up with the others and their emancipated prisoner, Zyn headed off toward the beach where he presumed they had taken the mer so he could get wet again or somesuch; he had to be more in his element in water, right? Turned out they had made a beeline right for the closest strip of beach and were all congregated around their guest like bunch of children crowding around a storyteller.

The merman seemed more interested in relaxing than talking however, feasting on a freshly caught crab, raw of course, lounging in the shallow water as the waves lazily coaxed him up and down.

“Well this is just obscene,” Zyn complained to Lorian as he approached. “Tell me he caught that caught that crab himself,” referring of course to the fiendishly horrible luck the cast aways had had capturing the devilish crustaceans the last several days.

“Calm yourself lad,” Lorian said. “Being an underwater being makes it just a tad easier to catch things that live underwater, no?” he said with the barest hint of a sardonic smile.

Grumiah apparently decided that their guest had had enough time to get over his captivity to stretch his limbs. “So, now that we’ve saved your hide, you mind telling us your name?”

The smooth skinned being regarded the quartermaster curiously, though he wasn’t apparently still completely over his ordeal. In contrast to the stories about these underwater people, the merman in front of them wasn’t quite a simply a man’s upper half with a fishy, scaled and fluked tail. In fact, as they had also seen in the other mers in the cave, his skin more had a light rubbery look to it, not unlike that of a dolphin, with huge bulbous eyes that gave the face a somewhat disconcerting appearance

“My name is Sreenii...” his high, airy voice started but trailed off, casting his strange gaze upon them all one by one, and the finally on the water as it lapped upon him. “You have my thanks for freeing me,” he said at long last. “Had I remained their captive, I would have met a most grisly fate.”

“So we surmised,” Lorian spoke up. “So then, just who are ‘they?’ We saw several lycanthropes and normal members of your kind, working side by side. Needless to say we are all quite confused, and we would appreciate it if you could shed some light on the situation,” he said diplomatically.

“Evil.”

“Pardon?” Grumiah asked.

“There is a simple reason why those two groups tolerate each other. As you seemingly know most of my kind hate and despise those who would let themselves be touched by such an abomination as ‘lycanthropy,’ as you call it. Even the fringiest pods of my people shun them.”

“Would this be... an extreme group, or pod, we’re talking about?” Zyn asked.

“Quite,” Sreenii replied. “Though they only consort with the wereorcas in their common worship.”

“And they’re worshipping something... bad down there, I take it,” Zyn surmised.

Sreenii’s face contorted in a grimace. “More vile than you can imagine. I could not see much for myself, for obvious reasons,” he said as he rubbed his wrist which undoubtedly still ached from the chains that had only an hour ago held him fast. “But I could smell deadra summoning in the air, and other foul echoes I could not identify.”

“Oh that’s just wonderful,” Pols grumbled. “Devils; what else are we gonna run into on this crazy-as-hell island?”

“And whatever they’re worshipping, they’re using human... er... sentient sacrifices to do it,” Lum observed.

Sreenii glumly nodded. “Yailea, my... you would call him an oath brother in your tongue. Several days ago we were both captured; I have not seen him for some time.” The mer shook his head, apparently trying to shake off his feelings with it. “There have been stories, rumors among the seas that this island is tainted, home to evil, but we did not think we were that close when they came and overpowered us. At first we confused by the sight of untainted Maeril swimming in tandem with wereorcas, and they used that confusion to their advantage.”

“Well they certainly have no love for each other,” Lorian commented. “Those priests who were hovering over you were quite agitated by the other’s presence.”

“To be united by hatred is... a fragile alliance at best.”

Unprepared for the sudden and booming draconic voice, Zyn and the others snapped around to see the dragon calmly setting on his haunches, back in his normal form, and still sporting the wig made of Pols’ hair. How was he so quiet?

To Sreenii, of course, the sudden appearance of a dragon was a completely new and unexpected complication, and he recoiled accordingly a few inches back in the shallow water.

“Ugh, damnit,” Lum cursed, “Do you have to keep scaring the crap out of us?”

“Of course I do!” the dragon insisted. “You should always be on your guard for the unexpected moments in life, like what I’m about to do right now!

Immediately the entire group tensed and felt the urge to almost faint, waiting for whatever spontaneous act of insanity the dragon was about to unleash upon them. As they froze like statues they held themselves still so long their muscles started to cramp and belated realization came that they needed to breath; they also belatedly realized nothing actually happened.

“...Wait,” Lum said at last, “What did... did you do anything?”

“Of course!” Xayk pointed out, “I sat here breathing and looking at you in a slightly odd way! You have to be ready for stuff like that!”

The men, and the merman, looked at each other in a confused and totally noncomprehending fashion. “What’s that—” Grumiah began.

In that very instant Xayk rushed forward, right at Zyn. He barely had time to widen his eyes before the dragon launched his muzzle right into his face... and kissed him. The giant reptile’s mouth was so large that the smooch cusped almost the entirety of Zyn’s face up to just below the eyes; his skin felt like it was being wrenched off at the suction. The scaly texture of the lips caused panic to burst for a moment, awakening a primal urge to shriek in terror and flee, not that he could do any such thing as the dragon held him in place, his giant taloned hands holding him by the shoulders. In his complete inability to struggle, Zyn frantically repeated through his mind that Xayk was a dragon; even though he was a reptile and had scales he was a creature that had very distinct limbs and did not crawl across the earth on his belly. After a terribly, agonizingly, arduously long moment, Xayk released, snapping Zyn’s neck back, a motion that was accompanied by a heaping helping of the dragon’s spittle and the most horrible breath he had ever encountered.

Gagging ferociously and smattering his face like a poison had been splashed on it, Zyn’s balance collapsed and he with it in the aftermath of the dragon’s sudden and bizarre act. “What was that?” he coughed.

“Aw, can’t we give the cute wittle human a cute wittle kissy?” Xayk replied as if he were baby talking a puppy.

“You...” Sreenii said with some measure of awe. “You are that dragon—”

“That dragon that eats purple children of flamboyant consumers of mass quantities of cake?” Xayk finished for the mer with an excited glint in his eye. Sreenii just mouthed wordlessly in stupefied reply.

“What dragon?” Grumiah said. “Have you heard something about a dragon living here?”

“Just...” Sreenii mouthed, unable to take his utterly bewildered gaze off Xayk. “There was a dragon that invoked the wind god Dvalin’s wrath; there were stories that he was exiled in this part of the sea.”

“Those rumors are of being the true type,” Xayk smiled using what had to be deliberately botched grammar. “I be here.”

“He, uh, apparently banged some woman this Dvalin was keen on,” Grumiah explained. Sreenii could only stare in yet more bewildered shock.

“I... see,” The mer said as he attempted to digest what he had just been told.

“Whatever he did,” Pols complained, “We got shipwrecked on this island and now we’re all stuck here along with him.”

“Is there some reason you... slept with this woman that Dvalin had claimed? Did he not announce his intentions?” Sreenii asked.

“Of course he did!” Xayk exclaimed. “He’s always like that, going around strutting his masculinity like it was a third leg. He went and made this big huuuuge fuss, so naturally I had to do something about it!”

Sreenii just stared. “Are you mad?”

“Most absolutely definitely!” the dragon declared with a grin. “Madness never hurt anyone! Well, maybe a few people, but they got over it. Except for maybe the ones who didn’t get over it.”

“I... see,” the merman said profoundly. Turning to the men, he said, “I hope none of you are specific disciples of the wind god.”

“Uh, no, we’re all Followers,” Grumiah explained.

Upon this declaration the mer cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, albeit more in confused than anything else. “I have heard of this term, but I must admit I do not fully understand it. You are different from those who worship those who call themselves Gods of Light, yet you do not worship the Lords of Darkness either. Which gods exactly do you serve?”

“Eli, of course,” Lum said as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

Somehow unsurprisingly, Sreenii did not quite comprehend. “I have not heard of that name before. Is it a name for one of the other gods? Or is it an altogether deity that is worshipped as on other continents?”

Though his confusion was no doubt natural, his ignorant stumblings made some inadvertent but rather crude insinuations. Pols, of course, was irked by them instantly. “We worship the Creator, fishboy. You know, the big guy who made everything? Not some pretend false gods of wind or sea or whatever that some hacks conjured up.” Zyn couldn’t help but grimace at the stark feather-ruffling indictment, even if he sympathized with it somewhat.

The appellate “false gods” of course was less than complimenting to the merman who took it with sparks of fire in his large eyes and bristling. “As I told you before, I am no ‘fishboy.’ I am a Maeril, and my Lord Wvelkim is as real as you or I. Every day he leads and cares for my people. How could it be possible to deny his existence, or that of any of the other members of the Pantheon?”

Oh boy, Zyn thought, rubbing his forehead as if that would lessen his grief at hearing this argument. He had met few Lightbringers his lifetime, but he had had this very argument himself with those few individuals, and each time it proved merely agitating and fruitless as no one had walked away convinced of any merits of the other side.

“Cause people, mer apparently included, love to make stuff up,” Lum interjected. “No one on their own seems to want to admit that Eli the original Creator’s still up there guiding things,” the sailor said with conviction, displaying a religious passion Zyn found somewhat surprising.

Sreenii shock his head disbelievingly. “What are you ‘Followers’ taught growing up? The essence that created the world expended itself in the act of creation. How could it have continuing power, much less influence in the world?”

“’He’,” Zyn suddenly found himself interjecting with ire. “’He,’ not ‘it.’ I can tell you with certainty that Eli’s as real as you or I, and everyday he cares for not just men, but everything in the world.”

If the merman was taken aback by Zyn’s reversal of his own words and example, he didn’t show it. “Then where is the power of the still present Creator? Wvelkim has power, I have seen it myself.”

“I’ve got power too,” Zyn shot back, “I’ve got power to move my own legs or smash a rock. If I had a sword I could threaten people to do what I want. That doesn’t make me a god.”

Sreenii, predictably, was unconvinced. “It is not merely power, it is righteousness. The Sea Lord and those like him have the forces of the world at their disposal, to act as—”

“They see fit?” Zyn interrupted.

The merman ignored him. “-as the forces they represent are naturally inclined to follow. It-”

“And what if that those forces are messed up or fallible to begin with? Blind men don’t make good guides.”

Bristling with indignation, Sreenii stared Zyn down. “Everyone is colored somewhat by the world they live in. There is no one who acts beyond the forces that compel them.”

“What kinda shit are you talking about?” Pols demanded but Zyn cut his hand through the air in a swift and forceful motion to cut the sailor off. If he wasn’t quick or smart enough to keep up with the conversation then he shouldn’t take part.

“Well, that’s the whole point of Eli guiding things,” Zyn said softly but with constrained, flaring anger. “Who better to watch over all us fallible little beings than the omnipotent being who made us all in the first place?”

“What is the point of having an omnipotent infallible being to guide the world if that world is fallible itself? Should not a god that is all powerful create a world that has no complications? My god looks after is in the here, and in the now, not in some vague otherworldly manner.”

“Hey, look fishboy,” Lum angrily cut back in. “You tell us this much; if your Wvelkim really is so powerful and so ‘godlike,’” he used the term mockingly, “and in the here and now, then tell me why he can’t save your shiny little ass when you get captured by demon worshippers?”

“I can tell you this much,” Sreenii said with insufferable smugness, “The lack of devotion to real gods among you Followers explains why I hardly hear of your kind at sea. The people of Wales and Sathmore give Wvelkim, the lord of the sea, and all the gods, devotion and reverence. I see the lack of devotion among your people is why they make such poor sailors who apparently are too busy shipwrecking on remote islands to actually sail the seas.”

Such an insult sent all three of the sailors shouting at once at the mer who stared back defiantly. As he looked them over his turned his gaze back to Zyn, who stared back with equal determination, doing his best to keep from escalating the situation with blows, although he was seriously wondering why he should bother refraining.

The dispute would have devolved just so had not Lorian interposed himself between them and held up his one hand. “Enough,” he declared simply and forcefully. “None of this is productive in the slightest way other than to vent a heaping helping of hot air.” With that sharp, paternal indictment, the sailors, Zyn, and Sreenii shut their mouths.

“Aw, why’d you have to stop?” Xayk whined like a disappointed child in the background. “It was just starting to get interesting,” he sat down and pouted. “You know, a few fists thrown, an arm or two ripped off, maybe some evisceration; who knows, perhaps even some skull-fucking afterwards.”

All the fight was suddenly sapped out of them in a way that not even Lorian could have hoped to match as they all fidgeted uncomfortably and somewhat... disturbed.

Sreenii eyed Xayk, again totally taken aback, but as he stared this time an idea seemed to go off in the back of his head. “You are here, trapped on this island because this... dragon,” he said at last, obviously considering a different, perhaps slightly more insane word, “has been exiled and cannot leave.”

“You have a point, or do you just enjoy stating the painfully obvious?” Zyn asked.

“I have a point,” Sreenii said irately, which with his thin high pitched voice sounded almost comical, “And it could involve a way off this island for you.”

Instantly the merman had their attention. “You’re offering what?” Grumiah asked.

“I could have Wvelkim appealed to by my people to act on your behalf to the wind god Dvalin, ensuring the dragon...” he stopped at the mention of the beast again, unable to resist casting a wary, anxious glance at Xayk’s direction, “that the dragon can fly you all to the mainland unmolested.”

Who said that Xayk wouldn’t at some point molest us? Zyn wondered. But he also knew that Sreenii wasn’t going to just offer something that good out of the goodness of his heart, especially after the heated exchange that had just occurred. “And in return?”

“The dark caverns below, as you have seen, are infested by a great evil. But it is principally based upon the sacrifice of sentients that it all is empowered; through a crystal, which you no doubt saw taken from the altar just before you unchained me,” the mer said, trying to momentarily forget his pride being wounded at being rescued by the men. “This crystal is the key to all their vile work. Destroy this, and you will have done Wvelkim’s people a great service, a service that would not go unnoticed.”

It was a bold offer, to be sure. It all sounded of an arrogance so forceful it had to be based on the power of a most powerful (and legitimate) winning hand, or conceived in excessively foolish hubris. The merman that sat on the beach in front of them certainly looked smug, and from his offer he seemed to have just such a winning hand. No doubt Sreenii was deriving a great deal of satisfaction for laying out their fate before them to chose. The one real question was whether it was genuine.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Lorian said, his face unflinchingly neutral. With that he gestured with his one hand for them all to gather in a circle.

“Can he really promise that much?” Zyn laid out the most important question.

Pols was obviously convinced of the negative, and still smarting from the argument. “Fishy little pagan’s just trying to get us killed,” he whispered harshly. “There’s no way after we made off with the demon worshipers’ next intended victim that they ain’t going to be prepared down there.”

Probably,” Lum said, stroking his beard, “probably, but we gotta ask ourselves; are we just gonna lie down and spend the rest of our lives on this shithole island? Sorry, but I ain’t voting for that?”

“Oh yeah?” Pols challenged. “And he’s just going to go run off to his people to appeal to one made-up god to appeal to another made-up god to call off this curse that the dragon’s found himself with?”

“How do you think Xayk got exiled here in the first place, Pols,” Grumiah challenged back. The bald midget shut his mouth, but it was clear he didn’t like the concept of having to accept even the existence of the beings that called themselves gods.

To the right Parn spoke up surprising Zyn who hadn’t seen him approach; the last he had seen of the mage was minutes ago when the two of them had their conversation about enchantments. He must have shown up in the middle of the argument when they were all too busy to notice. “But they must know of our presence; they could be waiting for us to go through that door.”

“It is desperate,” Lorian said, “full of danger, but consider our total and utter lack of a better alternative... unless you wish to ask Xayk if he has another idea of course.” Pols obviously wanted to reply, but his complete baldness even now served as a reminded of the dragon’s unpredictability.

“Well when you put it that way...” Grumiah said, staring off into the sea. “We can’t stay here, that’s for sure, so I say we go for it.”

It did seem that they had no real choice to Zyn too, but to give in to that smug mer... “We could be walking right into a hornet’s nest in there,” he said.

“Hornets taste delicious with soy sauce,” Xayk declared, interjecting his long neck and head right into the circle.

Jumping, Grumiah shook his head. “Fine, I’d assume you’d do anything that would help yourself get off this island. How much can you do to help us?”

“Nothing,” the dragon replied. “And everything.” Zyn raised an eyebrow to the dragon’s cryptic remark. Usually he was silly or nonsensical, if terrifyingly unpredictable; how smart was this dragon really? “But, all things considered, I’d really like some variety in my diet, and you guys are too much fun to eat! Yet.” he said with an innocent grin.

“Hey,” Lum said, “this is your mess, you could take care of those demon-worshipping beasts licitly-split just by yourself, right?”

Xayk frowned. “But that wouldn’t be any fun! I can’t make all the world’s problems go away by myself, that’d be cheating and boring!” Great, this dragon loved to make things difficult. “But, I do wanna see the Lypomese islands at some point, that’s what I came out into the middle of the ocean in the first place for,” he leveled his gaze with the men in a clear message. What this dragon plotted in his crazy mind was indiscernible, but one just couldn’t argue with him if he set his mind to something.

In the end, though, the men agreed, over Pols’ objections of course, to go ahead.

A one man, or rather one dragon, party promptly ensued as Xayk spontaneously hollered and swept his massive wings out. With a great burst of wind his huge form lifted itself into the air and began cavorting about recklessly, performing all kinds of complex, improbable aerial maneuvers that by all accounts should have sent him pummeling into the sand. By some strange quirk of fate, however, the air continued to keep him aloft.

“Now how does he not just plummet right into the ground?” Lum wondered aloud as Xayk literally coasted along his back in a most ungraceful fashion through the air.

By some twisted luck, the dragon’s ears, even as they were barreling through howling upper level winds, caught the human’s musing. “Because I’m so stupid I forgot about gravity! It’s easy!”

Having heard such talk over the past few days more than once, Zyn and the others more or less accepted it as normal for the dragon, though they were no less creeped out by it. Sreenii predictably, was less than accustomed to it. “I find it hard to believe that there is such a thing as a dragon who has no dignity,” he said has he watched the dragon carelessly collide with the tops of the trees.

Xayk, however, seemed to have the best ears in the world as he snapped his whole body around instantaneously, spun about and landed with thud right smack in front of the shocked merman. “Of course I have pride you silly aquatic dolphin person type thing! I’ll have you know I’m quite accomplished in many areas; why I’m probably the world’s king of yodeling, binge drinking and flatulence!”

“Wait,” Zyn said with some nervousness, “what was that last—” He couldn’t continue that statement the same as he could not breathe, for at that moment something ungodly awful penetrated his nostrils. “Oh god!” he gagged and ran for the water. The others had no time to gawk or laugh as soon they too were engulfed in the hellishly pungent odor that burned their noses and made their eyes water profusely. Sreenii, being a mer had it easy for when the horrible stench assaulted him he, after momentarily gagging, flipped himself over and shoved himself completely under the water. Even though the men lacked the critical attribute of being able to breathe underwater, they could at least hold their breath as they dunked themselves under to escape the stinging, burning fumes, much to the squealing delight of a certain flying reptile.

---

Turned out there was an annoying aspect to Sreenii’s proposal in addition to the dangerous ones; he had to get back to them on it. Apparently he had to run (or rather swim) off to go plead their case before whatever passed for leadership among merfolk to subsequently plead their case to the sea “god” Wvelkim, who would have to go convince Dvalin to let go of a grudge long held to a certain promiscuous and utterly mad dragon. Any one of those junctures could conceivably hit a brick wall, and part of Zyn wondered if such a wall were hit whether Sreenii would just swim back and straight-faced lie to them so he could have the demon worshipping problem of theirs dealt and preferably get bunch of arrogant landlubbers killed. Zyn expressed such reservations to his mentor, but the old goat had the gall to chuckle and actually state it was a possibility. He reminded him, though, that ultimately Sreenii would have to con not the six cast aways but Xayk, a somewhat diceyer if not altogether impossible proposition. Strange as it was, Zyn had some reason to be thankful for the dragon, though he’d only ultimately be thankful after he was standing on the mainland.

Work continued for the rest of the day on this and that, basically making sharpened spears even sharper and testing them on each others buttocks. They ended up having to produce more pitch for torches as Lum and Pols engaged themselves in a dispute over women they had met years before and were thousands of miles away, resulting in Pols smothering the whole lot of the black substance into Lum’s hair while the latter was taking a snooze. After a prompt midget beating, they labored for a good two hours trying to strain the crap from local uncooperative wood when it was remembered that they had Xayk’s light spell during the descent and the glowing mushrooms in the labyrinth itself. Parn nervously asked what if the men got “separated” from Xayk (as if none could figure out what he meant by that), but it was pointed out that if that happened they wouldn’t be able to navigate back through the confusing maze by themselves anyway. This of course caused Pols to again voice his sharp discontent with the plan to which Lum dumped on his bald head a coconut shell filled with piss. This succeeded in causing an all out brawl between the two sailors, and was only stopped when Xayk exclaimed, “Ooh, a pissing contest!” and promptly... joined in.

The two sailors were not allowed to rejoin the others until they had rinsed thoroughly in salt water so that everyone else didn’t have to gag constantly at the wretched acidic stench. Clearly, anything that originated from inside the dragon’s bowels was not something to be shared with the light of day.

Clothes became and issue after it was quickly determined with uneasy queasing stomachs that the sailors’ garments had been irreparably “marked” and had to be done away with, preferably with fire. This got rid of the smell, but it left the small fact that Lum and Pols were now less than modest in a way that they could not help. Zyn’s laughs were met with smacks upside the head by both of them. The most that could be managed were some ungainly palm leaves, so they both just gave up and strutted around the island naked. Pols discovered that being completely bald head to toe made certain areas very sensitive to the wind, and ended up half the time hunched over protecting himself. Lum at least was still hairy and so didn’t suffer quite so much, though both did have to endure enduring laughter from the others, except for Parn obviously who was too embarrassed to giggle. That, and Xayk kept on whistling wolf calls and several times acted (they all hoped it was acting) like he was hitting on them.

Obviously they couldn’t continue to go around completely nude, so suggestions started being offered. At one point it was suggested that they dig up Bresan’s grave and scrounge his clothes, but the thought of digging up the deceased sailor really didn’t sit well with any of them, nor would the garments smell all that well themselves after being worn underground on the dead man for nearly five days.

Ultimately, it was Xayk of all people who came up with a solution. Delivering dinner for the cast aways, this time a giant swordfish of some kind, the dragon kept staring at the naked sailors whilst simultaneously attempting to goad the others into gang raping them. When Grumiah pointed out Xayk’s preponderance for inappropriateness, the dragon shrugged and said life was too short to be appropriate. He did, though, skin the fish and then hurry off to his Cliffside cavern, only to emerge an hour or so later with two unusual items.

“You made... fish scale clothes?” Zyn asked stupefied as he examined the garments.

“Just pants I’m afraid,” Xayk replied, “I’d like to have made more but I used the rest up.”

Lum and Pols both looked over their new replacement pants, amazed that aside from the fact they were made from fish scales, they looked more or less like pants. Truly, this dragon was... not what one would expect. At all. “And,” Grumiah said, “You used to the rest of the hide up on what, exactly?” unable to quite hide a sense of apprehension.

The grin that erupted on the dragon’s snout was less than soothing. “Why I made something for Steve of course!” With that, he snapped around and grabbed something, spinning back about with a familiar coconut that was stitched on its bottom to a gown of all things.

“Er, is that a dress?”

“Yeah,” Xayk admitted, “Steve happens to be a transvestite. I berate and belittle him all the time for it, but, see, now I have a bargaining chip. If he gets bitchy on me again I can just eat his brand new dress!”

“...ok?”

“Oh, and don’t worry about those pants. They might be a tad uncomfortable, but they won’t break. And I most certainly would never curse or enchant them with undesirable side effects from the ungodly amounts of magic I used in making them so fast.”

Both sailors froze, looked at the fish-scale pants, then looked at each other long and hard.

Before long dusk started to settle and with it the cool breezes of evening. Despite this, Lum and Pols both steadfastly refused to clothe themselves with Xayk’s gifts, leaving themselves quite cold and miserable in the process. As usual, they compensated with banter and jeering, regaling all sorts of foibles accumulated from over the years, even goading Grumiah into recalling something of interest. Giving in to their continued pressure to expound upon something he had let slip while onboard the ship, the quartermaster starting relenting.

“And,” Lum said as he repressed a slight shiver, “you let yourself get caught up by this how?”

“I was... rather drunk, I didn’t know any better.”

“Hurry up,” Pols urged, “get to the part where this fight between you and the priest came to blows!” Zyn just shook his head, grinning.

“I stood up and I repeated that I thought the music was awful. We exchanged some words, then he revealed that his brother was the musician in question.” Pretty much all of them except Parn gwafawed at that. Well, him and Xayk of course, who was sitting a way from them all a good distance, watching intently with those orange eyes, occasionally twitching his tail back and forth. There was an undeniable intelligence in those eyes as they glistened in the firelight, a mind cunning as it was unpredictable. It was moments like these when Xayk more than at any other time scared Zyn. It was when Xayk the buffoon and that monstrous, dark creature on the storming mountaintop could be seen in the same eyes.

Fortunately the laughter of the others served to at least somewhat distract him from such concerns, and he tried to follow the quartermaster’s story. “What did you say to ‘em?” Pols asked eagerly.

“Told him that’d be the kind of music they’d be playing in hell to torment all the sinners.” Resounding laughter filled the campsite at that.

“So it came to blows,” Lum surmised. “How’d it go?”

“Well...”

“Don’t tell me you lost to him,” Zyn said with a grin forming.

“...I was drunk, remember?”

Again the cast aways degenerated into fits of laughter, even Parn cracked an embarrassed smile.

From there the conversation drifted, predictably right to where none of them really wanted to go but what they were all invariably thinking of.

“What if we open the door and they are all simply waiting for us?” Parn asked.

“I’d get an extra meal in that case,” Xayk responded, “but I doubt they’ll be waiting for us along the way down.”

“And just why not?” Zyn demanded. “They know by now their captive is gone; they have to suspect us on this island. Sreenii said you’re the dragon that’s known to be here; wouldn’t they try and respond in kind should that door open again?”

“Weeeell, there’s the slight problem that they don’t know about that door,” Xayk offered.

“How couldn’t they?” Grumiah asked.

“Oh trust me, they’re ignorant little fishies when it comes to that door. Yes, fishies... with teeth. But, the point to be made is that we won’t get caught going down.”

“You’re sure of that?” Zyn demanded.

“As sure as I am that Steve enjoys various inappropriate sexual fantasies about other fruit,” the dragon offered. Needless to say, their fears weren’t quite put to bed.

“Hey,” Pols said, “here’s an idea; why do we have to go with you at all? Can’t you just go down there without any... er, ‘measly’ humans to gum it all up?”

“Well, I could list a couple dozen reasons but I’ll just go with the fact that I’m lazy.” When the snorts came Xayk added. “Hey, I’m the centuries old dragon here; I can do things however I like to, damnit!”

There really wasn’t much point further arguing with the dragon, though Pols tried and was promptly sat upon, fortunately he wasn’t squished or (seriously) injured.

With night then totally upon them, Lum at least relented and put on the garments Xayk had fashioned for him, saying that if the dragon really wanted him cursed he’d just find a way; Pols continued to refuse, insisting the dragon was playing with them, getting kicks out of it whenever they fell for his traps. Zyn didn’t pester him much about the issue; if the sailor’s obstinatence caused him to have a chilly uncomfortable night, he was more than happy to let him deal with those consequences. To tell the truth about Xayk, though, Zyn wasn’t sure what to believe about him. He was insanely dark, and yet... almost thoughtful all at the same time. Whatever secrets those orange eyes held, they were a force unto themselves. Zyn shrugged off and to find Lorian.

“I’m curious about something,” Zyn began as he sat down next to his mentor who laying on the beach gaping at the constellations above.

“That... is not something that surprises me,” Lorian offered, his voice strangely distant. Come to think of it, the one armed man had been somewhat usually silent for the past few days. While he had been keeping back and letting the others expend most of the hot air most of the time, he had been quieter ever since they met Xayk for some reason. In fact his mind almost seemed to be in a different place. Granted this island was an unsettling place that had no doubt done more than enough to push them all a little off kilter, but still...

“You know a little of the beings the Lightbringers call gods,” he said in the same tone he would call a usurper a king. “Do you think this Wvelkim will agree to this bargain we’ve found ourselves stuck with?”

The fresco painter didn’t take his eyes off the stars as they imperceptivily drifted through the heavens. “Perhaps.”

Zyn cocked his head and regarded his mentor with scrutinizing eyes. What was with him? Suppressing a sigh, he let his gaze follow the stars as well. “You’d think sailors of all people would be the type to believe in beings that controlled the seas.”

“Mmm,” Lorian replied softly. “There are always exceptions, always...” he searched for his next word thoughtfully, “possibilities. And Grumiah seems to at least have a healthy respect for such things.”

“Yeah,” Zyn conceded. In many ways Grumiah was one of the easiest to figure out among the cast aways. “But I didn’t expect to see Pols and Lum go at it like that. The fact that they defend the strict line of the Ecclesia... I can see them defending ardently what they do believe, but that’s not something I’d have guessed. Especially Lum.”

The old man was silent for a while. “He walks behind cheerful banter, that one. There’s things he doesn’t want people to see. Thoughts of his family weigh him down.”

Zyn nodded, recalling his conversation with the sailor just before they had first discovered the cave several days ago, but was somewhat surprised at Lorian spelling something out so plainly. Usually he made his student work for conclusions, not hand them to him. “They almost sounded like the priests, insisting that the false gods are outright fabrications and don’t even exist at all.”

Lorian chuckled softly. “Not much unlike our underwater friend seems to regard Eli.”

“But I’ve never understood why the priests insist so much on saying the pantheon simply doesn’t exist at all,” Zyn said. “The Canticles keep referring to them over and over again not just as idols but as dangerous adversaries. Wouldn’t it... wouldn’t it be more effective if the priests said they existed so that the Ecclesia could make a more active guard against them?”

“You will find that interpretations, including those on the Canticles, especially those on the Canticles, are as numerous as those stars up there,” he waved his hands at the sky. “So, though, you believe the Lightbringers’ gods exist?” he asked with some measure of amusement, though never taking his gaze off the sky.

“...I think ‘gods’ isn’t the proper term. A more accurate description would be a bunch of hoodlums and usurpers; spirits with power, but spirits that consciously and deliberately take more respect than they are owed.” Zyn had not always disagreed with the priests on this position.

“Yes,” Lorian said. “Yes, it’s nice to know that the petty vices that consume mankind are not limited to mankind.”

Zyn regarded his master curiously. “So, you’re just agreeing with me?”

The painter took his time before responding. “The Celestials and Fiends, as they are sometimes called, could very well be described as usurpers in one sense, and likely have a certain hubris about them.” Then a wry smile crossed his lips. “But just as there are those of us are fools and usurpers and there are those who are not so much, there are perhaps some among their kind who are not quite blinded by arrogance, complacency and conceit.”

The rather sudden and out of the blue statement caught Zyn off guard and did its fair part to unnerve him. In the nine years that he had travelled with the man he had never voiced opinions so... unique or colorful, not like this. Sure, he had his patient, measure, and somewhat odd insights, but to be talking about pagan gods so...

“You aren’t drunk or something, are you?”

A deep chuckle straight from the belly was the response, again something Zyn hadn’t heard from his mentor in a long time. Maybe the dragon’s crazy really was rubbing off. “What’s the matter, can’t real human beings say things like that?”

Zyn thought for a moment before answering, “No,” just to be contrary.

“Ha!” Lorian let loose another laugh. “You see that’s one thing I’ve always liked about you, what gives you that spunk, that drive that just ignites when pressed against. It gives you an edge that can give you an advantage in this world.”

“Ok,” Zyn said as he stood up, “Ok, you discovered some way to ferment coconut milk.”

“What?” Lorian asked nonchalantly as he adjusted his view to look at his student. “Is there really something wrong with the way I’m talking?”

“Don’t ask me questions that you know how I’ll answer, old man.”

Lorian shrugged. “Don’t I do that normally anyway?”

“I- You know what, screw you!” The fact that Lorian didn’t respond to that particular phrase in and of itself wasn’t surprising, the fact that he started humming a drinking song to himself was and confirmed that he was in a funk or something, he just wasn’t normal. Instead of arguing further, he tossed a pebble or two at his relaxing mentor’s head then headed off.

Plopping himself back down in front of the fire, Zyn just started as it crackled and wafted, noticing as Lum finished bugging Parn about something before the sailor finished or gave up, after which he deposited himself in front of the fire next to Zyn.

“What were you bugging the mage about?” Zyn asked.

“Aw, nothin’ much, at least nothing that came to anything. I was just trying to see if he could help us out some with our up and coming ‘expedition.’”

Zyn turned to cast a glance at Parn as the mage fiddled with a hunk of fish meat, apparently busy being a picky eater while he was at it; he was so preoccupied that ended up losing his grip and dropping his food into the sand. As he stared dejectedly at his dirty meal, by the fire Zyn just continued with the conversation. “I don’t suppose you were able to wring any offensive spells out of him.”

The sailor scoffed in response. “I’d have better luck trying to quench my thirst with all that seawater out there,” he gestured at the ocean that ultimately surrounded them on all sides. “Just what is that mage supposed to be good at anyway? Everything seems to be ‘not his specialty.’”

“Enchantments, actually; possibly some other stuff, none of it very glamorous or flashy.”

“So Eli gives us a mage on this loony trip, but not one that can actually do anything,” Lum chuckled without mirth.

“The priests say Eli works in mysterious ways,” Zyn ruminated, “But sometimes I think He’s got about as strange a sense of humor as Xayk.”

“Heh, I’ve yet to meet a priest who’ll admit to that,” Lum said. “They all keep trying to reassure me that it’s all fine up in Heaven but ‘beyond our means to discern’ or some crap.”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to blame them for telling us stuff like that,” Zyn offered. “If they told everyone that that came to them how scary the world really is they’d cause more panic than anything else. Not exactly the most constructive thing to do.”

“So you think priests, or anyone with a lot of power for that matter, should just sugar coat things for all of us? Like, say, if I had a terminal disease, they shouldn’t tell me that I’m gonna die soon?”

Zyn scoffed just a little. “I didn’t mean anything like that.”

“So what do you mean by it?”

Picking at some sand, Zyn paused as he tried to order the thoughts in his mind coherently. “People shouldn’t gloss things over or make problems less than they are. There’s a way to tell others things they need to hear, but there’s also wrong ways to do it. Plus,” he added, “I think Eli is pretty mysterious enough that it’s genuinely hard to just explain how He does things.”

“Eh, probably,” Lum said as he rubbed his beard.

“And,” Zyn said as another thought came to him, “Sometimes us little mortals aren’t all that smart. Even if we’re told something point blank we don’t always listen,” he said, echoing Lum’s own arguments from the discussion they had had just a few days before. “Just look at the Predecessors,” he gave an example, referring to the people Eli had chosen ages ago as his Chosen People, that is until they failed to listen to His commands one too many times.

“Yeah,” Lum said, his voice becoming strangely distant.

Oh great, him too? Zyn thought. He didn’t need someone else going loopy tonight. “What?”

The sailor looked at him apologetically. “Hm?”

“You suddenly got a weird look on your face.”

“...Oh. One, just... nothing. It’s just talking about Predecessors, it brought back some old thoughts.

Zyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he asked, his curiosity raised.

“Just...” Lum trailed off, looking like he was debating saying anything. “My family was once Yehudim.”

Now that Zyn hadn’t seen coming. He didn’t allow himself to dwell though, swallowing his surprise at the sailor’s admission of his family being of the Predecessors. “Was?” he repeated.

“A long time ago, when I was just a wee little toddler,” he held his hand out to show how short he was talking, “They converted at some point around then, and we never really talked about it much at home.”

Though he shouldn’t have, Zyn’s thoughts toward one question that his curiosity wouldn’t let go of. “Was it... voluntary?” he asked, daring to give voice to his somewhat marginal thoughts. Granted, it probably wouldn’t really affect how he thought of the sailor. If anything, this was actually just the sort of little question he should know; it was always the little turning points in people’s lives and how they reacted that did a great deal to define them. Such was one of Lorian’s most persistent admonitions.

The sailor shrugged. “To be honest, I have no idea. I just know my parents brought us up to be good Followers of the Way. We’re still talking about the same all-powerful god, after all, so I guess none of us really risked anything by becoming Followers.”

Zyn swallowed and shifted, diverting his attention to pushing some rocks around at his feet. Judging that that avenue thoroughly explored, it was perhaps wise to not expose it to further light of day just yet, lest they hastily reopen old wounds. He decided to find another point to discuss. “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “I never really had much in the way of family,” he said at long last. “Just my mother’s parents and some really distant cousins.”

As he hoped, Lum took this as an invitation to divulge his own history. “Didn’t have too much of an extended family. At least that we ever talked about or met,” he added quickly. Zyn caught the undertone in the extra sentence of a subject intended to be brushed aside quickly. “Had a big enough of an immediate family to worry about,” he added with a fond smile. “Seven brothers and three sisters; now that was a hectic childhood.”

“Lemme guess,” Zyn said, “You were the scourge and noisebox of the village.”

Lum laughed at this appraisal. “Not quite, there were a few rowdier and larger families in the village if you can believe it, but we had our fair share. It’s this little place along in eastern Pyralis called Veybrean east of Dorbearn. Me and my brothers would try and pick fights and challenge some of the other boys nearly every night. I swear there was always someone causing a racket in that place.” Now he was getting into it; Zyn just laid back and let the sailor tell his story.

I remember,” Lum gestured with his hands, “I remember this one time we broke into a neighbor’s barn to try and get some fresh milk for some girl my older brother Dorlan was keen on. We were a little drunk at the time.” Zyn snickered at that no doubt important detail.

“And we snuck in, all macho and ‘ain’t we so skilled to pull this off’-like, thinking that we’d waltz right in and just milk us a cow, and we...” he started breaking down laughing, “Dorlan tries to milk the thing, but nothing comes out. For five minutes he keeps trying this, and we’re getting worried that the farmer’s gonna get suspicious at the lantern lights and noises coming out of his barn. Finally my brother gets something to squeeze outta this cow, and we’re all wondering why the milk looks weird, so we get Clovis to try and bring the lantern up so we can get a good look, and the idiot trips over a shovel and causes this huge ruckus. Then, right then the farmer comes snoppin’ around and spots us, charging like a maniac with his pitchfork.”

Zyn’s smile widened across his whole face as he found himself joining the sailor in degenerate laughter.

“He’s comin’ at us shouting, ‘I’m gonna bash and cut you into little pieces and leave you for the dogs to eat!’ Naturally us boys just bolt into a panic and we scatter this way and that like mad. Another of my brothers, Murdock, ends up running clean into a support beam and just goes *bam!*” Lum clapped his hands together, “knocking him flat out cold! So we’re all busy trying to drag his carcass outta there before we get screwed, only someone trips over one of our lanterns and just ‘whoosh,’ a pile of hay just engulfs itself in flame. His whole barn nearly goes up ‘cause of this shit.” Lum nearly fell over laughing; Zyn too as he got caught up in the chaos of the events.

“So,” the sailor tried to regain his composure, “The farmer got distracted by the fire long so that we nabbed Murdock and the bucket of milk out, and Dorlan’s all exhausted, we’re all fritzed and just plain tuckered out from the getaway. Then Dorlan starts trying to act like the conquering hero, acting all big and bold,” Lum imitated an overconfident strutting voice, “that he’s gonna just take a little sip of his hard won prize. So he takes the bucket, leans it back to take a sip, and the next moment he just spits the it out like poison and the whole bucket gets flung wide and we all get drenched. He’s all choking and coughing and we’re all shaking ourselves off, when we realize that that stuff didn’t smell at all like milk Turns out the ‘cow’ he tried to milk wasn’t a proper ‘cow.’”

Zyn practically fell on his back collapsing in hysterical laughter. “So,” Lum coughed as he tried to stop laughing, “The rest of us just get pissed so we beat him and go tell him off to the farmer; Dorlan of course rats on us while we’re at it, so we all get punished for weeks helping this guy out on his farm; meanwhile Dorlan’s girl just up and loses interest and fall for this other kind who was this huge rival of his,” Lorian continued laughing as he stared off into space. “Ah, those were the good old days.”

Perhaps it had been because he hadn’t dwelled on the past in a long while, or maybe it was because of the stress of this island and what awaited them in the near future. Whatever the case, the story had just rolled off the sailor’s tongue, and Zyn had been quite caught up with it.

“That’s the problem with the good old days,” Zyn said, “Always were and aren’t any more.” Truth be told though, it was more something he had an only a superficial belief in than anything deep. Few were the attachments to his past that he looked on with melancholy.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Lum agreed. “Sure with I could have those days again.”

“Why couldn’t you sometime? Once we get off this island why not pop back at home and rouse some more chaos?”

“Don’t I wish...” Lum whispered almost to himself.

Sensing something more, Zyn pressed on. “Something wrong?”

“No; nothing, just... those days were a long time ago; a lot of people who were there aren’t anymore.” He sighed. “That’s all in the past though. Now,” he added with a smile returning, “Now I’ve got two little bundles of joy and a wife waiting back home for me.”

“How old?”

“Oh, not very big at all, the oldest, little Lum Jr. he’s only yay high,” he held out his hand to about three feet. “Got my mischievous side, much to the missus’s chagrin,’ he said with a wry smile. “Then there’s little Deloris. She’s new to the world, not even a year old yet.”

“Just two for now?” Zyn asked, “Or are you planning on more?”

“Wish we could; Deloris tore up my wife a bit at birth, almost lost her. We... had kids before Junior, but... they didn’t survive their first year.

Zyn fixed his gaze on the rocks at his feet uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

Lum didn’t respond right away, just letting the fire crackle and burn in front of them. “Anyways, little Deloris, she’s got her first birthday in a month. Course, I’ve been at sea so long I’ve never even actually seen her. Just a letter or two from my wife is all the news of her I got.” He shuffled about and lay on his back. “I wanna get back there, just to be there in time for her birthday. She... she deserves that at least.”

Rather than say anything, Zyn kept his mouth shut, if for no other reason than he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Afterwards Grumiah came along and suggested everyone get to sleep, to save their strength for whatever was to come for the next day. Zyn moped off, feeling quite fatigued himself and tried his best to sleep once again on sand and palm leaves. His mind was restless, however, so he couldn’t fall asleep right away.

Just before he dozed off, but after the others had zoinked out and the fire reduced to smoldering embers, with even Xayk having flown up to his Cliffside cave (presumably to sleep, although come to think of it Zyn had yet to see the dragon sleeping even once), an old familiar acquaintance paid him a visit. In retrospect, it was long overdue, but its abnormally long absence only made Zyn more unprepared for it.

An iron tightness gripped his chest, causing his diaphragm to squeeze and ache every time it moved. Leaves crumpled in his strangling grip as he tried to work through the crushing clenching, commanding himself to breathe slowly and deliberately. Almost ritualistically he fell into a breathing routine, doing his best to ignore the pressing, searing pressure against his sides.

It was perhaps a good ten minutes before it subsided, though it had not disappeared altogether. No matter, it was tolerable enough that he could sleep on it. Casting his eyes around, Zyn saw no one else had been awakened by his episode. Just as well, he thought, closing his eyes and doing his best to fall asleep, which he did in short order.

---

There was never any indication as to why it was here, though one may as well have asked why the sun shone bright and the sky was blue. That knife... that darkness... the whole setting was just always here, always waiting.

Was it waiting for him?

Perhaps, perhaps not. In any case there was more waiting for him this time than a bladed weapon and a wall of black. For the first time there was something... other.

A streaming veil of color flowed like so many rivers, curling and gushing forth with raw, primordial force that stripped all comparisons that could be made of it. It was a prism, a kaleidoscope through which bountiful energies flowed and frothed, something that was no mere magic or trickery. It was as if he were glimpsing some fundamental aspect of the universe through which all existed.

The there was the dragon. In stark contrast to the every other repetition of this dream, in addition to the streaming flows there was Xayk. This was not a Xayk he was familiar with, however. Or more accurately, this was a Xayk had had only glimpsed in fleeting images and faint glints of the eye. Not even on the storming mesa had his eyes gazed upon the apparition that stood before him now. That one had been dark and obscure; this time the dragon’s eyes shown, white-hot, a radiating, piercing orange hotter than a deadric furnace, broadcasting cunning twisted intent with the terrifying intelligence to back it up. The beast’s serpentine form coiled around itself, its dark scales glistening like that of snake, sending no end of shivers down Zyn’s spine. It was as if evil and wisdom had spawned a child together, and the dragon’s gaze tore Zyn apart, dissecting him at will.

And worse was the smile, a broad line twisted in a feral, wild, but at the same time purposeful grin.

And yet...

There was something else. Within those orange, glowing eyes, and that crooked smile, the dragon had... feeling. Zyn swore that the dragon had a strange empathy in that face, though strangely it did not seem to be in spite of the malice. It was almost as if...

The beast’s... no, the being’s eyes shifted, turning to the knife and the darkness that lay before the human, ever demanding his choice. The dragon turned his eyes back to him and smiled, a knowing smile that was unlike any he had ever seen before.

Still, though, no words were exchanged, the dragon just stood there, waiting.

Waiting for a choice.