Chapter 4

The pentagonal chamber was dim, cool and dry. Its walls were of dressed stone and there was no visible door. The only light came from the multicolored glowing lines etched on the floor, walls and ceiling. Standing at each corner of the room was a humanoid being, dressed in red robes and holding a crystalline sphere on which their concentration was focused. The beings were not human, looking rather like orcs, except taller and more intelligent, with higher foreheads and better posture. Scro.

One of the Scro war priests raised his head and spoke to thin air, "The shield has been breached in the northern hemisphere, eastern quadrant. Just one ship penetrated, most likely powered by a furnace or several furnaces. "

There was a long moment of silence, and another voice answered out of thin air, "It's those pirates again, I expect. Very well, maintain watch and increase magneto-etheric force to sufficient levels to support double the number of patrol ships. Also, send word to Makkakahn base to hold all available spelljammers ready for immediate launch."

The war priest who had spoken bowed. "It shall be as you command, General."

The Stormbreaker flew slowly through the Venusian night, invisible and nearly silent. On her deck, the Captain and the First Officer gathered around a bard, who was holding a crwth in his arms. Above the instrument hovered a blue-glowing arrow. It pointed ahead and slightly down. If you were to look where it pointed, you would see two glowing patches in the night. One glowed with the yellow-white of magically generated light: the Scro capital city of Gnazkhibad. The other was an odd, sickly greenish glow some miles from the city. Careful examination of the arrow would show that it was at this second glow at which it pointed.

Cap stared at the green-glowing patch glumly. "Is that what I think it is?"

The Captain nodded, looking grim. "That's the Ghostyards for sure."

Mister Red looked puzzled. "The Ghostyards, what are those?"

Cap sighed slightly. "You know how the Near Empire got started, don't you? How the southern elves, the Oerth, crossed the flame barrier that divides Venus in half in their flying ships, and taught all their arts to scro tribes of Northern Venus, including how to build spelljammers? Who promptly used them to raid Aearth for slaves and booty?"

Mister Red nodded slightly. "I've heard a bit about it in Pahara."

Cap looked pensively at the greenish blot as ship approached it. "Well, the elves of course, being elves, were horrified by this behavior, and attempted to take back or destroy all of their gifts. The scro had built a huge shipyard outside of Gnazkhibad -- practically a city in itself, and had guarded it with everything they had learned from the elves. The elves couldn't destroy it by direct attack, but they couldn't let the scro keep their fleet of spelljammers either, so they called up a god of wrath, and him curse the place. Ever since then it has been an accursed place, and death to enter."

Mister Red blinked. "And that's where the treasure is buried?"

Cap sighed. "So it seems."

Mister Red looked over at the Captain. "This is going to be hard, isn't it?"

The Captain smiled a tight little smile. "We've done hard before, and most of us are still alive."

Mister Red nodded slowly. "True enough, Captain, true enough."

They soon reached the green-glowing area. The Stormbreaker slowed and carefully hovered over an area full of stunted and oddly-twisted trees near the glowing area. The Ghostyards themself seemed to be full of a thick fog, hiding mostly whatever was within, only occasionally allowing a glimpse of ruined stone buildings.

The ship's cook -- who, strangely enough, also happened to be a cleric of Pelor -- came up on deck and stood next to the Captain, and examined the green glow through narrowed eyes.

The Captain looked the cook curiously. "What do you think it is, Margaritte?"

The cook frowned slightly. "It's a negative energy field of some sort. I suspect a couple of minutes in it without protection, and you'd be dead -- or worse. Possibly much worse."

The Captain frowned. "We have protection, don't we?"

The cook nodded. "We have four amulets of Death Ward, which should do the trick."

The Captain nodded once and turned to her first officer. "Mister Red! I, our fine bard, Cook and Naf will enter the yards -- you will be in command in my absence. If you find it necessary to move to avoid scro patrols, we will check back here every twenty-four hours, and we will leave the usual signs. Clear?"

The big half-orc was clearly not happy with this idea, but he also clearly knew better than to argue. "Aye-aye, Captain."

The Captain turned to regard Cap and the cook. "The two of you suit up -- we'll assemble on the quarterdeck in half an hour."

Since Cap was staying with the Captain, he simply followed her back to her cabin. She went right to her equipment chest, and dumped the contents on the table.

Cap looked at her quizzically. "Wouldn't it be easier to use the bed for that?"

The Captain shook her head, and began to unbutton her shirt. "I have a better use for it."

Cap raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The Captain slid out of her shirt and began to unbutton her breeches. "As do you. It won't take either of us more than ten minutes to get ready, after all."

Cap began to pull his shirt off. "I see."

As it happened, it only took them five minutes to get ready, and they were still the last to reach the quarterdeck.

All of them were in their armor (chain for Cap, the cook and the Captain, breastplate and greaves for Naf) and bore their weapons, and Cap carried the crwth as well. The cook handed out the amulets and made sure each of them had them securely fastened around their necks.

They lowered themselves by rope from the Stormbreaker (Cap almost managing to fall, to the quiet amusement of the crew), then walked up the edge of the green glow. They paused while the cook blessed and prayed over them.

The cook looked at the Captain, a very serious expression on her face. "I don't like the look of the green fog, Blackie. Pure negative energy would be glowing black, not sickly green. I think the amulets will protect us, but just to be on the safe side it might be best if we stayed in there no longer than an hour."

The Captain nodded gravely, and pulled an elaborate gold pocket watch out of a pouch. "It's just before the stroke of midnight -- my lucky time, and moment of my birth! We'll do our best to be out by one, then. Naf! Take lead, I'll take rearguard, Capability, you take left flank, Margaritte, take right flank. Move out!"

Close up the yellowish-green fog looked oily and slimy some how, but it rolled away from them (or their amulets) when they approached. But it still made it hard to see very far.

It was deathly quiet inside the fog -- even the wind did not blow. As they moved inward, following the glowing blue arrow hanging over the crwth, they passed a number of stone buildings. All were in an advanced state of ruin. There was no sign of any life: no animals, no plants, not even mold or fungus. The ground beneath their feat was an odd mix of mud and stone, but even the mud lacked its proper smell. Everything seemed completely sterile.

Soon they came to the actual shipyard. There was cradle after cradle containing smashed spelljammers. However, even though the cradles and the broken ships were made of wood, and thoroughly soaked, there was no sign of decay. The wood could have been freshly broken, except there was no smell, no smell at all.

Cap looked at the broken ships curiously. "I wonder what happened to their helms."

The Captain laughed. "The elves took them, of course. Even with the curse here to 'protect' them, leaving them here would have been too much of a risk -- after all, the scro have clerics who can cast Death Ward, too."

Cap nodded. "That makes sense." Then he realized something else was missing. "Why aren't there any bodies here? Wouldn't this field have killed anyone present?"

The cook spoke up. "No, it would have converted them into undead -- wraiths to be exact."

Cap looked around nervously. "Are there hoards of wraiths lurking around here somewhere?"

The Captain shrugged. "From what I've read, a great fear fell upon the scro in the shipyards, and they fled for their lives before the curse came down. Mind you, I don't know if all of them made it out. If some didn't, it might explain why no one lives anywhere near here. So keep alert!"

The moved on, following the arrow above the crwth deeper and deeper in the yards. Ahead, a small castle or large tower loomed out of the mists. It has once boasted a formidable gate of rune-etched steel, but it had been shattered and lay in rusted pieces on the ground.

The Captain raised her eyebrows in surprise. "According to my charts, this was the building in which they stored the helms before installing them in the ships. I would have thought the elves would have found and taken or destroyed every possible thing of value in this place."

Cap looked at the arrow. It pointed straight through the gates and down slightly. "Well, that's where the treasure compass says to go."

The Captain muttered a quick spell, and pulled out her sword. "Then, that's where we're going."

The courtyard of the tower was rough with rusty metal fragments and shattered stones. The tower, its doors completely gone, loomed ahead in the glowing fog. When they reached the door, Naf pulled out his two-handed sword, which began to glow a surprisingly comforting pure white. The fog did not seem to like the sword's glow, and retreated from the half-ogre in oily billows.

Naf moved slowly up the stairs. The Captain gestured Cap back to the rearguard position, and she and the cook moved up behind them. The only sounds were their breathing and their feet on the stone, the only scents stone, water and rust. Naf stepped into the doorway, looked around and shook his head slightly, and spoke, "I know you're there. I can feel you waiting, watching. Why don't you come out and play? Or are you cowardly as well as dead?"

That's when the scro wraiths erupted out of the ground and walls.

Cap practically leapt into the air as immaterial fingers reached out of the mud and stones for his feet. But before any of them could touch him, the cook's strong voice boomed out: "In Pelor's name, be gone, things of evil! The sun banishes you! The earth rejects you! The Lord of the Sky bids you return to the underworld that spawned you! Go!" And the fingers reaching for him sunk back into the ground.

The wraiths backed off, but more and more of them boiled out of the tower. They seemed unwilling to approach too closely, but they began to fill the courtyard and the 'air' above. Cap looked nervously at the Captain, who was smiling a tight, hard smile that was only slightly less scary than the wraiths. She murmured, "A target rich environment; I like that."

Suddenly fire boomed out on both sides as a Fireball went off to the left and a Flame Strike came down to the right. The wraiths swarmed forward, but an invisible wall held them back, and more fire exploded among the fog. Then Naf, gentle, strong Naf, leapt forward, his great sword glowing an eye-hurting white, screaming a battle cry in a grating, unknown language, his sword harvesting wraiths like a scythe harvesting wheat. The cook, her mace glowing like the sun joined them, while the Captain cast fire spells to either side with that frightening smile still on her face.

Cap stood in the middle, crwth in one hand, rapier in the other, looking for a clear target in the maelstrom of fire and magic, but there were no wraiths within reach. None of them made it with reach either, all of them being destroyed in less than half a minute, except for a few that fled. Silence descended, and he sheathed his sword.

The Captain rubbed her hands together gleefully. "Ah, nothing like a brisk workout to get the blood flowing, eh, Capability?"

Cap looked at her ruefully. "I wouldn't know, having just been a spectator for the whole business."

The Captain patted him on the shoulder. "I prefer to think of you as the reserve, myself."

They formed back up and entered the tower. No wraiths appeared this time. The inside was damp, dimly lit by the glowing fog, and smelt only of wet stone. The décor was limited, martial and practical -- in other words, typical scro work. They followed the crwth's arrow to the central staircase and headed down toward the basement. Someone had been there long before them, and had smashed every door to flinders. They began to encounter corpses of scro as well, very odd corpses. They looked almost fresh, but leached of color. Even the damp had not touched them.

When they reached the bottom of stairs, the arrow continued to point down, not at the corridor off to the side as expected. Cap frowned in puzzlement, while the other three stared at him expectantly. Cap walked around the base of the staircase, watching the arrow. It continued to point at the floor, just past where the stairs ended. He stood in thought for a long moment. No one disturbed him. Then he swung the crwth into position, and began to play the tune that activated the treasure compass.

There was a long pause, then the floor just past the end of the staircase silently vanished away, showing a continuation of the staircase downward. They headed down, with Naf in the lead.

This time the staircase ended in a small room containing only a rune-covered iron box. The Captain stepped forward to examine it carefully, frowned, then shook her head. "Why would anyone go through the effort of creating a treasure compass for a spelljamming furnace? Yes, they're valuable, but not that valuable."

Naf was examining the furnace with a frown on his face. "It doesn't look quite right to me, Cap'n. The door's been welded shut -- how are you supposed to feed the magic items into it?"

The Captain's eyes narrowed suddenly and her smile returned. "Good spot, Naf. This might be worthwhile after all. Let's get it back to the ship and see."

Naf picked the furnace up without any seeming effort, holding it comfortably under one arm. Cap rather doubted he could have picked it up at all.

They headed back to the where they had left the Stormbreaker, keeping a sharp eye out for the wraiths, but their trip was uneventful. Uneventful, that is, except for the ship's complete absence when they got there.