Chapter 7
An Unexpected Ally
Clay's legs had been turned to stone. All he could do was stare in horror at the loaded flintlock aimed at Wooly's forehead.
"What do you want from us?" Wooly demanded. He was trying to sound strictly indignant, but Clay could tell that he was absolutely terrified. "We don't have any money or valuables. We're practically vagabonds at this point, and there's no need-" The stranger suddenly jumped off of Wooly as though he had been electrocuted and took a couple of steps back.
"Seth?" The question was hardly above a whisper. Wooly scrambled back to his feet, and Clay crept a little closer to shed more torchlight on the situation. The stranger had Clay's slim build and deeply tanned skin but had slate-blue eyes instead of brown. Clay could tell the man's full brown beard had once been braided and styled, but it along with his hair had grown somewhat wild, as though he hadn't had a chance to properly comb it in months. He wore ragged pants and shoes but no shirt, exposing multiple tattoos running up his arms and printed on his chest.
Wooly leaned forward to study the man's unshaven face closer. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open in shock. "Matt?" he whispered back.
"Seth! You're alive, you're alive!" The next thing Clay knew, the man named Matt tackled Wooly again, this time in a full bear hug.
Wooly seemed to be returning the hug just as excitedly. "Matt! I can't believe it! You're actually alive after all this time!" The two men scrambled back to their feet still embracing each other, tears of joy trickling down their cheeks. Clay just stood there, unsure of what to make of this unexpected reunion. He finally cleared his throat.
"Ummm… Wooly, did this man call you… Seth?"
Wooly broke from the embrace and turned to face Clay with a smile as bright as the rising sun. "Seth is my real name," he admitted. "This is my friend Matt: the one I told you about who was with me when I crashed into Captain 'Wiley Riley.'" His smile fell, and he shot Matt an accusatory glare. "He's also the one who said that he would return for me."
Matt looked wounded and somewhat angry. "I did the best I could at the time. Before Riley and his men could catch me, I jumped overboard and swam to the nearest island: Castaway Isle. I must have inhaled more of that incense than I thought, for I passed out when I reached the shore. By the time I woke up, night was falling, and Riley's ship was nowhere to be seen.
"The next morning, I used some loose planks and barrels to create a raft and leave the island. I zigged and zagged for days, stopping at different islands to sleep, gather new supplies, and search for any clues as to where you had been taken. I even managed to work on a few passing ships so I could cover more ground and ask more people. Nothing. After three months of searching, I had practically given up. I had no leads, no clues, and no hope. I may as well have been trying to find a ghost."
While Matt had been telling his tale, all three of them had trooped back up the path to Wooly and Clay's makeshift camp. The moon had passed its highest point on its nightly course and was beginning to sink toward the western horizon. Wooly took a stick and began poking the fire, sending a fresh burst of ashes and cinders into the air.
"I'm sorry if I seemed ungrateful before, Matt," he finally apologized. "I'm sure you did all that you could."
Matt gave a contented sigh and stretched out before the fire. "That's all behind us now. We're together again, and that's all that matters." His eyes swung around and locked on Clay. "By the way, Seth, you never really introduced me to your friend here."
Wooly gave Clay a searching look. "Can I tell him?" The boy nodded. "This is Clay. He was also imprisoned by Captain Riley. He helped me break out today, and he came up with an escape plan just this morning."
Matt's eyebrows rose in admiration. "That's quite the accomplishment," he admitted. "Where is their hideout, by the way? I felt as though I turned this entire sea upside-down looking for it."
"Beneath the Glorious Sea Dog's Tavern," Clay told him.
"Ah, a clever spot," Matt sighed. "It's so overgrown no one would ever think to look there."
Wooly hesitated before continuing. "The reason Clay was captured was that 'Wiley Riley' wanted to cut off his head and sell his skull."
"That's something you don't hear every day," Matt chuckled wryly. "What's so special about your skull?"
"I have… the ashen curse," Clay admitted. "Riley wanted to sell my skull because it would be the first fresh ashen skull anyone has ever heard of."
Matt's eyebrows jumped. "The ashen curse? Have you been meddling in witchcraft or some other dangerous foolishness?" Clay shook his head and explained how he had been scratched by the ashen skeleton on Flintlock Peninsula a couple of days before. "How unfortunate," sighed Matt. "So now, I suppose, you're setting out to find a way to cure your curse."
Clay nodded. "I've been thinking. Someone told me a story about an enchanted dagger that was used to absorb a phoenix. Perhaps if we found that dagger, we could do the same to Flameheart. I was told I had to either kill him or completely isolate him. Maybe sealing him away in that dagger will work."
"It's worth a try," Wooly admitted. "Where is this dagger?"
"That's the problem," Clay conceded. "The last anyone saw of it, it was in a rowboat with the body of the man who defeated the phoenix. The boat was heading south of Devil's Thirst toward the Devil's Shroud."
"Well, we obviously can't go into the shroud after it," Matt interjected between bites of a banana. "No humans or ships can just pass through it like a normal fog." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Although, I can think of a group who might be able to help us."
"Who?" queried Wooly.
"The merfolk," Matt responded.
The sea had been inhabited by merfolk since ancient times. They frolicked beneath the waves like dolphins, and their beautiful haunting songs could reach the ears of sailors for miles. Now, the merfolk were constantly on the alert for those who had been separated from their ships. If they found such a soul, they would swim to the surface and wave a staff that emitted a plume of sea-green smoke, signifying they were willing to carry the unfortunate sailor back to their vessel. They could also deliver treasure that had been pillaged from underwater shrines and treasuries to the surface.
There were also the merfolk' dangerous cousins: the sirens. The sirens and merfolk had hated each other with acidic intensity for centuries. One theory for this long-standing hatred revolved around the two sons of the first merfolk king. When he died, the youngest son had become extremely resentful that his older brother had assumed the throne. Determined that the crown would become his, he led a revolt against the new king. The rebellion failed, and as punishment, the older brother banished those who had revolted against him from the kingdom and used his magical powers to call down a curse, turning them into sirens.
"Although humans and ships can't travel through the shroud," Matt continued, "sea creatures such as the merfolk can pass through without any difficulty. If we can get them to help us, we'll find that dagger in no time."
"But would they be willing to help us?" Clay pointed out. "Flameheart has already threatened to conquer them as well as the humans. If this quest fails, he will strike them even harder for allying with us. That prospect may scare them into not meddling in human affairs."
"We could point out the elemental aspect," Wooly suggested. "Water beats fire, so perhaps their magic would be more potent against him."
"They may fear him making some kind of alliance with the sirens," Matt worried.
"In any case," Clay burst out, his voice betraying his worry, "we need to act now. Time is ticking for me and every human on this sea. We have to at least try making negotiations with the merfolk, otherwise we'll have no chance of securing the enchanted dagger. We can't let it fall into Flameheart's hands, or else he'll use it to release the phoenix and use it against us."
"Clay's right," Wooly agreed. "We have to try something. But now, the hour is late. Let's get some rest and see about building a raft tomorrow morning."
Captain Riley returned to the Glorious Sea Dog's Tavern that night in jolly humor. He had a bag full of at least a dozen cursed captain skulls, ranging from foul to villainous. He couldn't wait to cash them in. As he let himself in through the secret door in the tavern, he could immediately tell something was wrong. He could already hear a faint murmur of voices down the hall. Usually, the members of the Crimson Crypt were hardly seen or heard, but if he could hear them from at the entrance, something had gotten them riled up.
Striding quickly down the passage, he reached the main cavern. This enormous cave served as both a mess hall and a meeting hall for the Crimson Crypt. Dozens of tables with benches stood in rows down the length of the room. Several small groups of occultists were scattered throughout the space, their murmurs of conversation nearly alien to the pirate's ears.
Riley strode up to one group and tapped someone on the shoulder. "What's going on? I've hardly heard any of you speaking above a whisper while you're down here, and now you all are practically clucking like a coop of hens."
The person he tapped just happened to be the man who had been holding Clay before being bitten by the hellhound. A white bandage wrapped around his lower arm was still stained with spots of red. "The sunset ritual was interrupted," the wounded man explained. "We summoned the Soul Seer who found an imposter in our midst, but they and one other individual escaped."
"What do you mean escaped?" demanded Riley in annoyance. "There must have been dozens of you at that ritual, and yet you still managed to let two people escape? Who were the escapees?"
"We didn't get the boy's name," the man admitted, starting to squirm. "Before we could wring any information out of him, the second escapee set off fireworks and-"
"Boy?" interrupted Riley, taking a menacing step forward. "How did you know it was a boy?"
"He was quite a bit shorter than the others, and his voice sounded young," the man reasoned, trying to subtly back away.
"There's a boy in our dungeons at the moment… or at least there's supposed to be!" Riley whirled and charged out of the room. He sprinted through the halls, shoving Crimson Crypt members roughly aside as he descended deeper into the labyrinth of the hideout. When he reached the dungeon door, he flung it open to find a horrible sight. Wooly's cell was empty, and Clay's was now inhabited by the delirious, nearly naked figure of the jailkeeper.
With a roar of fury, Riley leaped into the cage, grabbed the prone figure by the throat, and slammed him against the wall. This snapped the keeper mostly out of his woozy state, and his eyes bulged in terror. "Please put me down!" he squeaked, tugging desperately at the thick fingers that encircled his neck.
"You let them escape!" hissed Riley in a voice that dripped with venom. "You let my priceless skull escape!"
"I didn't mean to," blubbered the jailkeeper, his face beginning to turn red from the pressure around his throat. "Last thing I knew, they were locked securely in their cells and-"
"Where is your key? It certainly doesn't look like they forced the door," Riley pointed out coldly. He dropped the warden, who struggled to his feet, gasping for air. His hand went to his belt, and his face went white.
"Eh… er… my key is no longer here," he mumbled.
"THEY STOLE YOUR KEY?!" Riley bellowed, pounding the cell bars in his rage and creating a dreadful clang that reverberated around the cavern. "What pitiful excuse for a warden are you?! I will see to it personally that you are demoted to chamber pot duty!" The poor warden was reduced to tears at this point, and Riley stormed away, leaving the man sobbing in the middle of Clay's former cell.
Riley reached the main cavern just as the search party that had pursued Clay and Wooly returned. "What's the status of the search?" the pirate snapped.
The leader shook his head. "They managed to evade us. At some point, they abandoned the ship, and we were left chasing their empty boat for at least a dozen nautical miles.
"Which way did they go?" Riley demanded, trying to control his temper.
"South at first," the sailor replied. "Then they made a sudden turn around Thieves' Haven and started going north by northeast."
"Thieves' Haven…" Riley murmured. Why would they suddenly change directions there? A sinister smirk suddenly tugged at his lip. That had to be where they were hiding. Those fools in the search party had been so focused on the boat, they hadn't considered the fugitives taking shelter on the island and sending the boat on as a distraction.
Turning back to the leader of the scouting party, he instructed, "In case anyone asks about me, tell them I've gone to Thieves' Haven to reclaim my prize." He fingered the pistol in his belt. "And this time, I won't be bothering to bring it back alive."
"There it is, just as I remembered it," Chester Ambrose murmured to his wife. The Golden Pondie was approaching the Glorious Sea Dog's Tavern just as the moon was beginning to sink toward the western horizon.
"What if we find those shadowy people?" Tasha worried, pulling her shawl close around her shoulders. "What do we say or do?"
"We'll worry about that when the time comes," Madame Olwen assured her.
As the fishing sloop drew closer, another ship decorated with the red and black trimmings of the Crimson Crypt came bursting out from under the archway and plowing straight toward them. Fearing a collision, Chester quickly dropped the anchor, bringing their ship to a swift stop. The other sloop did the same and halted with its prow nearly touching theirs. A bear of a man leaped the gap between the two ships and landed deftly on the Golden Pondie's deck.
"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Chester, incensed. "You could have gotten someone killed just then!"
"I might ask you the same question," the captain spat back. "I am on my way to collect a valuable skull, and you three are currently blocking my path." Beneath his mask, his eyes suddenly narrowed. "By the way, I don't suppose any of you spotted a boy and fat man running around the sea together in a boat like mine?" He gestured to the dark sloop behind him.
"No we haven't," snapped Chester. "We're searching for a boy of our own, and you're wasting-" He suddenly caught a glimpse of Madame Olwen's face. She was shaking her head ever so slightly with a subtle gesture not to say anything else. She silently mouthed one name: Riley. She had put two and two together and realized that Riley must have overheard her conversation with Clay and was now determined to make a profit off his cursed skull.
Chester got the message slightly too late. His sudden lapse into silence heightened Riley's suspicions. "So you do know something about him!" he sneered. "Why, I wouldn't be surprised if you were his father!"
"Even if we did know where he was," Madame Olwen retorted, "we certainly wouldn't tell it to the likes of you!"
"You're all lying! You do know!" bellowed Riley. In a sudden blur of motion, he reached out with his left hand, grabbed Madame Olwen, and yanked her close to his side. With his right hand, he whipped out his flintlock and pressed the end of the barrel into her right temple. "I still have a bone to pick with you, Madame Olwen, from being so stingy with that skull I tried to sell you the other day," he snarled. He turned to Chester and Tasha. "Now," the malevolent pirate purred, "you will tell me what I need to know, or Madame Olwen will soon be saying a 'how-do-you-do' to the ferryman."