Neither guard nor coeurl stood at end of the winding tunnel beyond those doors. Barrels lining the stony walls greeted them in groups of two or three, betraying no sign or sound of the intruders. Beyond them lay a longer chamber within the depths of the grotto. It spanned further than Ever could see, to no fault of hers. Darkness veiled the ceiling, rendering it imperceptibly high, an errant stalactite piercing through it at scattered intervals. Beyond yet one of many barrel stacks, Ever spied an elevated sitting area. The pirates had built it themselves with planks of wood, an endeavor that took, at the very least, a few weeks time.
They had been here all along. It was a gathering place, a makeshift canteen. Rounded tables stood with matching chairs upon the elevated plane. Crates had been stacked, in varying heights, adjacent to its borders. These all signified an activity continued through several moons in the year, if not years beyond. Worse was the shadow hanging like fog over the chamber, pierced faintly by lanterns sitting upon the tables. Some illuminated empty wine bottles of green and blue. Others threatened to burn out, flickering dangerously low.
"D'ye think the Cap'n's alright?" asked a pirate with a bow strapped to his back. He looked to his Roegadyn companion, seated at the bottom of the wooden stair. They were a breath and a barrel apart from the adventurers, who were not so well-hidden that they could not be seen.
"He'll be fine," said the Roegadyn, waving his hand. He rose to stretch his legs. "Ain't the first time. He must've pissed off one o' the wenches."
We'll have to kill them. Her gaze moved beyond the pair, up to the three… four… five pirates eating above. No doubt there were more one could spy from atop the platform. There's too many to simply tie up and leave.
A hand came to rest upon her arm. Ser Archer, owner of the hand, whispered, "You alright, lass? Yer goin' pale."
Ever brushed away that square, meaty hand. "I'm fine. We may be outnumbered."
"I'll admit, I am a bit nervous," piped Papaya, raising her head. Eyrisunn frowned at her, then looked back toward the conversing pirates, prompting the Lalafell to watch in kind.
"It's alright t' be nervous," said Ser Archer, as though Papaya's voice had belonged to Ever.
"I've probably killed more people than you," spat Ever. Her gut wrenched at the lie.
The archer laughed low and shook his head. "Ye didn't exactly go fer the kill with ol' Madison."
What if I can't? Ever bit the inside of her cheek. Of course they will kill us if we don't, but what if I can't bring myself to do it?
"Ye have t' want it," said the archer.
"Want what?" Ever asked.
"Want t' live," said Ser Archer. "Yer will t' live has tae be stronger than his. That's the only way t' survive. Ye ken?"
Reluctantly, Ever nodded. "Yes. I ken."
"Of course you can," hummed Papaya, suddenly smiling at them yet again.
Irate, Eyrisunn turned to address them, his brow furrowed and fissured like a deep canyon. "You must not hesitate to kill a tempered man, Miss Starfall. He has lost his agency and the chance to redeem himself. What's more, he will seek out others and kill them or worse—have them tempered as well. Now, we are dutybound to Baderon to see this investigation to the end. It is not mere survival, but keeping one's word that makes a man, a man."
Ser Archer raised his nose. "Aye, talk honor an' duty all ye like, it don't make killin' any bit more glorious. At least be honest about what yer doin'."
"If you don't like killing," said Ever, "and you aren't here on Baderon's account, why did you bother coming?"
"Oh, I like killin'," said Ser Archer. "I like Baderon, too. I jes' don't like bullshit."
Eyrisunn huffed. "Ignore him, Miss Starfall. A madman must not always be taken at his word."
Is he trying to mentor me? Ever frowned. And 'mad'? Is he really?
Lumpy mewed, perhaps confused at the shift in the air. He squirmed, struggling to escape Papaya's grasp, but she held fast to him.
"Oye!" cried a Reaver from the platform. He pointed directly at the conjurer. "We've got company, ye ninnies!"
His crewmates moved at his command, drawing forth their arms and darting down the stairs. The Roegadyn at the bottom sprung to his feet, taking up a sword and shield. Eyrisunn wasted no time, charging to meet the threat where it gathered. His blade sang against the onslaught as pirates mobbed all around him.
"Quickly," urged Papaya, raising her cane. The archer was already flinging arrows.
Ever nodded and drew her scepter. A web of lighting sprang from the head of her staff and spread over the seething mob. With great effort, Ever directed the electricity away from Eyrisunn, for aether knew no difference between the body of a friend or a foe. Mercifully, the force of the magic filled her mind, seizing much of her focus. It spared her the anguish of considering the pain she inflicted upon her foes, even as they trembled with the malicious bite of magicks. It spared her, too, the joy of it.
Eyrisunn was pushed upon the platform, then across it. Ser Archer followed slowly, for the range of his arrows was compromised very little. Miss Papaya, however, ran across the platform with a cry of concern, snapping Ever away from the pull of her potent spells. She followed them, stumbling up the stairs, determined not to lose sight of them. Then, there was a hand upon her arm.
"Where d'ye think yer goin', Pretty Miss?" hummed the pirate, yanking her back toward the stair. He wore a crimson bandana. A gold tooth glittered in his slimy smile. At his back, a small crowd of pirates began to grow, hunger burning in every man's eye. "Our friends will keep yers busy!"
"Let go of me!" demanded Ever, feeling her magicks disperse. "Let go of me or you'll regret it!"
"Star! Look out!" An arrow came shooting past her neck, thrusting itself into the throat of her assailant. The pirate clutched at his neck, falling into the arms of the man directly behind him.
Ever wheeled around to find Ser Archer. Her brow creased. "What did you just call me?"
Miss Papaya, finding a fair point between nursing her shield-wielding knight and the rest of her companions, spared a moment to blow back the rest of the pirates, who clamboured upon the stair, with a great gust of wind.
"Star," replied the archer, uncertain. "Ain't that yer name? Starry Everfall?"
"I am not a cosmic waterfall!" huffed Ever. "My name is Ever Starfall, as I very clearly stated before!"
"That's what I said," insisted the archer. "Selwyn Evenfall!"
"That's not even close!" cried Ever, raising her scepter to club him in the head.
Miss Papaya's spell of wind could not flow in perpetuity, for she was compelled to suspend it in favor of bringing aid to the faithful paladin at the fore of the party. The pirates at Ever's feet were quickly climbing the stair, shouting and laughing and whistling, full to the brim with murderous confidence. It was at that precise moment that Ser Archer narrowly escaped Miss Starfall's ire with a swift step to the right. In his place, an eager pirate rogue took the full brunt of Ever's attack, losing consciousness as soon as he felt its sting.
"It's Ever Starfall," continued Ever, viciously kicking the man aside. "You know, like a falling star!"
"... OHHHH!" The archer's face lit up.
Ser Eyrisunn, seeing his chance, rushed toward the new pirates. Papaya doused them in another discouraging wind.
Then, the archer squinted. "Is that… even a name?"
"Of course it's a name!" cried Ever. "It's my name!"
The audacity of his question moved her to snatch a bottle of wine from the table behind them. With all the strength she could muster, she tossed the bottle and, furiously, wailed. He was so irritating, this ridiculous mystery of a man. It made her deaf to the scream of the poor unfortunate upon whose head the wine bottle shattered. Then, a deeper rage ran through her blood, hot and dry and hungry. At her fingertips crackled the beginnings of a fire. It burst from the pirate's head, a great plume of flame, and quickly spread over the mob with wild intensity. Two… Three… Four of the crewmates fell to their knees, howling in pain as the fire ate their flesh. The smell burned in her eyes and her nose and her throat. She was still not used to that damned smell.
The archer, that audacious heathen of a man, let out a loud, rolling laugh. Every one of his teeth shone, and his eyes glittered like crystals. She balked at the sight, undecided between outrage and disgust. Her freehand fist clenched, welling with the desire to throw a punch at him, not that it would do any good. His head—nay, his body entire—must be made of stone, for he was magnificently sturdy and about as dumb as a rock.
"Grand!" cried Ser Archer. "Just grand!" And he flung more arrows, seemingly unwise to the waves of unadulterated rage emanating from his magely companion.
"And, Ser Archer," chirped Papaya. "My name isn't Papaya, by th way… It's Pudada Puda!"
Ever stained to hear the Lalafell's plea over the shrill death cry of yet another enemy. Still, she managed to make it out. How could she have ever believed that anyone could be named after a fruit? Would she have believed 'Kiwi Kiwiwi,' too?
"What'd ye say, Miss Papaya?" asked the archer, looking up from the man under his foot.
"Focus!" bellowed Eyrisunn, thrusting his blade through the heart of a skirmishing foe. Out slid his bloodied blade. "My life is at stake, lest you forget!"
"There's too many of them!" cried Pudada, suddenly surrounded. So small was she, she had been shuffled about in the chaos. The hungry blades of pirates encircled her, drawing closer by the minute.
It was then the archer grew stern. Wild sparks of magic dripped from his arrow. Ever could feel the force of his spirit pulling upon her own aether in turn; but why should she let him have all the glory? So replied she, with the full force of her soul, by pulling back on the magic upon which he drew. He doubled back in shock as the aether left him, clearly dizzy, yet somehow not unseeing. His eyes found her, as did the magic, crackling all the iridescent colours of a sunset from the tip of her scepter.
Thus was the shape of her scepter transformed. It grew to the length of a crook, woven together in lights of emerald and violet hue. This was her moment. Books of histories and poetries had regaled to her such tales of triumph. Like this, she could take a step into that distant fantasy world; so, blazing with the combined powers of her companions, she lowered her staff.
Skyshard, they called it. Pieces of the sky fallen to the earth. She stared in awe as the crook melted away. True to the spell's name, it called forth would-be meteorites of mottled-together magic to rain down upon their foes. The breath left her lungs. The dust cleared. All about the party lay strewn bodies beaten into pools of blood.
Ser Eyrisunn let down his weapons with a sigh of relief. "Bless you, Miss Starfall. Bless you."
Ever pressed her lips thin. There were dangers ahead and more blood to be shed. Had she the will to witness death over and over again? No, no. It was too late to be quibbling about that.
The acher, for seemingly no reason, burst out laughing. "Grand! That was grand!"
"Thaumaturgy is most impressive," agreed Pudada, smiling brightly. "It certainly doesn't bear a dark reputation for nothing!"
I did enjoy it, came a whisper in Ever's ear. The magic still warmed her blood.
"Drastic times call for drastic measures," said the Elezen, stepping off the canteen platform. "Speaking of which, Miss Pudada, you ought to let that couerl cub go. Its squealing and whining nearly cost us our lives."
Pudada's smile contorted, fearful and reluctant. "You can't be serious, Miss Starfall. It is only a babe! If we leave it…" She was raising her arms, as though to hold up the poor cub; however, it was gone, and she stared at the space between her hands with uncomprehending eyes.
Ser Archer, ever the hero, placed a wailing Lumpy between them.
"You found him!" gasped the conjurer.
"Why on earth did you bring him back!" Ever snapped.
"Oh, have a heart, Miss Starfall," insisted Eyrisunn, who had only then pulled himself together. "Surely the pirates will mince him to pieces, should they find him."
"Don't be so dramatic," said Ever. She turned away from them, searching the cold floor of the grotto for a more useful reply. The glimmer of a small, metal object caught her eye.
"He's an investment, miss," said the archer, cheerily. "We save him now an' a couple o' years down the line, he grows big enough tae save us."
Ever wrinkled her nose and stooped low to fetch the object.
"You think he could?" supplied Pudada in her stead. "What if he does wish to run away? I didn't even notice when I lost my grip on him!"
"That's how children are born, my dear," asid Eyrisunn. "Screaming bloody murder and flailing like a fish out of water. You ought to raise him like your own, Miss… Pudada. A loyal friend is a rare treasure in this world, no matter what his shape."
"This key may open the Captain's chambers," said Ever stiffly.
The archer kicked the large, Roegadyn's corpse at her feet. "He does look the important sort, if he's the one what dropped it."
"Who," corrected Ever. "Who dropped it."
"He did," said the archer, pointing.
Pudada and Eyrisunn chuckled to themselves, but their magely companion was having none of it. Ever huffed and continued surveying the area.
The path split to three, leading to doors along the rugged, unyielding walls. The guards for these portals had undoubtedly heard the ruckus and joined the battle; but this was difficult to ascertain, given all the crew looked alike in arms and attire. Worse still did every door bear the same make and colour.
"There's women behind this one," said the archer, his ear to the door.
Eyrisunn hurried to his side. "They must be prisoners."
"Or wenches," spat Ever, joining them. Then, she slipped the key into the lock where it turned without a hitch.