Chapter 5 - Trouble on the Deck.
Moving toward the storage bay, deeper into the hold, Varus found himself snooping on more conversations. Many of them revolved around the mundane aspects of life aboard a ship, the uncertain future ahead, and the scarcity of supplies—challenges he felt that affected everyone, even the royalty. The occasional visits of inquisitorial magisters for interrogation provided a contrast to the buzzing noise of the crowd. Among the many voices, a particularly loud group of dwarves caught his attention. As he was making his way further towards the bow side, he inadvertently caught wind of what they were up to.
Seated on a bench, the broad dwarf sat completely upright, positioned opposite his slimmer counterpart. He wore an admiral hat, eyes closed, palms facing up on his knees. His beard flowed in a cascade of meticulously braided plaits, each adorned with golden medallions. The slimmer dwarf, though shorter, sported a chest full of hair and a distinguished mustache, wearing a worried expression.
"It was one of them, I know it. They are trying to kill us one by one. Can't you see it?" the slimmer dwarf prodded his hat-wearing companion.
"Gil, you're still going on with that?" the elder dwarf shook his head and reached for his ale.
"They care naught for us — mere cattle to them. None among us would turn on our own. Yet they pick us off, one by one," Gill's voice carried in a whisper, though its roughness echoed through the air, audible even from a distance.
The elder dwarf cast a wary glance at the magisters before leaning in to whisper, "Can we skip to the part where I reassure you, and you keep quiet? Stick to the plan." With a brief nod, he then glanced down, scrutinizing his notes.
"You accuse me of madness, Beast? Ha! You're the one lost in delusions," Gil, the slimmer dwarf, retorted, his voice rising.
"Mad? No. Insufferable? surely." Beast replied a hint of amusement in his tone. He raised an eyebrow as Varus approached. "Listen up, lad. Do you hear that?
"A dwarf," Varus muttered under his breath. People often said they were expert seafarers. He recalled reading about them during his days posing as a clerk— now those were the good old days.
Leaning against a sturdy pillar, he observed them intently, then closed his eyes. His ears sharpened, senses heightened, attempting to distinguish the waves of sound washing over him. The unintelligible chatter of shipmates, the creaking and groaning of the vessel from floor to ceiling, and the thunderous boom, crash, and crackle of waves assaulting him, intermingled with the sea's own murmurs of discontent.
"The sea sounds angry. The ship is bearing the weight of nature itself," Varus noted as he said it aloud.
"Yes, but that isn't anger. It's...," Beast gleefully smiled as he cocked his ear to the other side, then grinned. "Anticipation. She senses something. I'd hold onto my breeches if I were you, mate. Continue to listen closely. There, now...Just like that..."
Closing his eyes, Varus focused further and let the ambient sounds on the ship fade away. A hint of a squeak could be heard, and then another again.
Beast's eyes snapped open as his countenance broke into joy. One great paw clapped Varus on the back; the other caught him before he lost his footing.
"I knew it! Aye, this is good news, boy. Good news. It's the sound of the wheel. Squeaks whenever the helmsman jerks it clockwise, which means we're heading east," Beast, touching his beard, whispered, "By my burning beard, that means... Yes! only 10.34 nautical miles to Fort Joy."
"Your beard seems to glow with magnificence rather than burn with fervor. But I can't help but wonder, what draws your excitement towards Joy? I haven't heard anything positive about the place," Varus remarked skeptically, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.
Beast, with a hearty laugh, clapped Varus on the back. "Aye, so you've got eyes as well as ears, eh?! You'll go far, mate. Even here. As for me, Joy ain't my final destination." The dwarf leaned back from the table and stroked his beard, gold medallions jingling merrily. His eyes rolled over to Varus. "That be all. Thank you kindly, boy!"
Seems like he has an escape plan on the offing; might check up on him later. Varus marked him for future use.
Reaching the storeroom and taking stock of the space led Varus towards a door that was locked from the other side. The lock was jammed badly enough that his lockpicks were useless here. As he perused the contents, checking if anything was worth taking, he found portable cooking pots, bedrolls, and a few sturdy ropes that could be useful in setting up temporary camps. There was also another bag that he could sling over his back.
While going through the items, he overheard another conversation between a sourcerer and a magister.
"Never thought you'd end up as a prison guard, Vik," Varus overheard the conversation, the voice seemed somehow familiar.
"That's right, I always knew you'd turn up rotten, Ben-Mezd," replied the magister. That did it, from the looks of it seemed to be a sourcerer Varus knew.
A scruffy man lounged against the wall with scarred arms folded. A sly smile played on his face as he stared at the magister guarding him. Noticing Varus, he straightened and beckoned for him to come closer.
Hocking a phlegmy gobbet in his general direction, the sullen magister settled back to his task of glowering at Ifan and now...at Varus.
"Watch your back, new fish. There's a murderer on board, and I'd bet three months pay it's this tramp Ifan," the Magister named Viktar glowered.
Varus shook his head at his accusations and retorted, "Waters has handed me the investigation. From what I know, Finn died at the hands of an old witch named Windego."
"You sure about that? No wonder I saw a squad of magisters taking an old woman towards Magister Williams," Viktar continued eyes wide, "Strange, Waters wasn't among them."
The next stop was at Magister Williams anyway; he would test the waters then. Rolling his eyes at Vik, he made his way towards Ifan.
Ifan leaned in and adjusted Varus's collar with a sharp tug, balancing its weight so it no longer pressed unpleasantly on his neck. Ifan winked, "Pinches less that way, right?"
The man might have gotten older and may have fallen out of grace, but Varus would not fail to recognize a veteran legend among men. "Ifan ben-Mezd, as I live and breathe."
"Do I know you? Oh... you look like him. Are you Perceival's son?" Ifan gathered a laugh of melancholy and looked at him.
"Yes, I am. Your tales against the Black Ring are legendary," Varus nodded.
"Subjects of great exaggeration, I am sure. I have heard of your father's passing - my condolences. He was a good man," Ifan touched his hair and rubbed a few streaks.
Varus nodded, "He died with dignity, among his friends. Why did the magister suspect you of murder?"
Ifan looked back at Viktar and sighed, "We used to know each other, more's the pity. I was his commander many many many moons ago. Isn't that right, Vik?"
Standing far back from Ifan, the magister drew one finger across his throat in an elaborate fashion but said nothing. Ifan grinned, flashing pointed white teeth.
"Same as he was at fourteen years old. The only difference is somebody gave him a bigger sword, and now he's Johnny Big-Pants."
Varus began to feel a certain pressure in the air but shrugged it off. Continuing, he asked, "You have roamed the world; do you know more about where we are being headed?"
Ifan nodded, "The Joy? I've heard a lot. Nothing good. No surprise there, since Bishop Alexandar runs the show," his voice slowed as he pondered, "Wonder if we'll get to meet the ringmaster himself."
With a pang, Varus began to feel the pressure increase drastically, almost as if all the mana was being funneled toward a particular direction. "Looks like somebody is refueling their reserves. Large reserves, that's for sure," he felt goosebumps as his skin hair rose up, his source well empty due to being bound by the collar roared in rage.
"Large reserves usually imply a formidable mage. And — my senses are tingling. And source... can't be good," Varus closed his eyes and focused further, heightening his senses toward the pathway of funneling. Surprisingly, it was on the other side of the locked door here, towards the other side. Near Magister Williams - if Siwan's directions were right.
He could hear their voices, the magisters, and someone else.
"Keep those bolts trained on her. And if she tries to make an escape, shoot to kill," one magister took out his sword from the scabbard, its sound screeching in Varus' ears. But he could still hear the following conversation.
"You seem to be on edge, officer. What on earth is the matter?" an old lady questioned, her voice seemed to be filled with wisdom and kindness. A voice that Varus recognized.
Shit. Varus picked up his sack and rushed out of the storage room, leaving Ifan and Magister Viktar in a daze. His destination was the other side, towards the bow area.
"Is this how they fucking plan to handle a Sorcerer, especially one as potent as her? Luring her into a trap, only to stoke her willingness to wreak havoc as she wills it?" Varus cursed aloud as he swiftly replenished his own reserves, resetting the cooldown period of his abilities. Alerting the others was a minor concern compared to the imminent threat. Ignoring the presence of everyone else, he navigated the holdway, noting the diminished presence of the Magisters as he moved through.
Meanwhile, within his mind, he honed in on the ongoing conversation in real time.
"Murder most foul, and I strongly suspect - you have something to do with it," the Magister pointed his blade towards her.
Rushing forth towards the VIP cabin, Varus saw a Magister patrolling the corridor. The Magister was slightly bewildered when he saw Varus hurrying through and remarked carefully, "You farin' okay, sir? or here to register? Magister William is just about done with the last passenger. You can head on in. William can get you sorted fast."
He paid no heed and swung open the main door.
"Well, do you now, Officer? Perhaps you are absolutely right," the old woman smiled at the Magisters, her eyes icy cold at the sight of their numbers.
And in that moment, Varus finally laid eyes on her. Standing in the center of a vast hall, the sorcerer commanded attention, her gaze unwavering as she faced a group of nervous-looking Magisters. They held their crossbows at the ready, while she stood defiant, being interrogated by an officer of high stature—presumably Magister William.
"So you admit it then? You murdered that poor fella?" William remarked with rage, his sword shaking.
The old sourceress laughed and clapped, "All these little games just for this. Yes, I did. But of course, that was only the beginning..." Windego turned her head and gazed at Varus standing further, her grey eyes peeling straight at him, dead center at his forehead. "There are others whose lives must end."
Magic began to coalesce around her, hot arcane essence melting the cold, producing steam that shrouded the entire room. Blue cracks appeared in her body as the source coursed through her, circling her collar. Bleeding blue from her eyes, nose, and ears, Windego began to laugh joyously.
"Good gods, the woman's mad!" William turned towards Varus and barked, "You there, Sourcerer! Go and fetch Magister Siwan! We need to do more than collar this maniac: Need to shackle her hands, head, and feet."
Varus sighed; it was already too late. She had stopped refueling a while ago, meaning she was most probably ready now. Silently, Varus stopped his own replenishment and began casting the spell formulas. Observing her, he tried to stall for time — "Sourceress, what did you mean by your last sentence?"
"It means your journey draws to a close. But do stick around for the finale, though. Because..." Windego reached for her collar and with a great crack, broke it down to powders. With nothing trapping them anymore. Source sped up transposing around her body at an exponential rate and began exploding in short bursts. "— I am just about to create a scene."
"Men! Subdue her, quickly! If she casts Source, Voidwoken will come! They'll end us all!" William screamed as his crossbowmen began shooting at her.
As the bolts soared through the air, Windego's grin widened with wicked satisfaction. "Precisely." With a swift motion of her hands, Magister William was sent blasting through the air, an attack of psychokinetic magic that blew away the bolts along with it. A massive blood rune materialized on the ground, sapping the power from those unfortunate enough to be within its reach, which just happened to be everybody.
Varus swiftly jumped into the fray, focusing his palm on William, and through chains of magic that no one could see, pulled William's body towards him with greater force. Using his other palm, he hurled an entire fucking large table in the hall towards her.
Windego, wreathed in crystalline flames, swung her hands, propelling the fiery projectiles not only at the table but also at Varus and William's men. The hall erupted in large flames, obscuring visibility and plunging everyone into a fiery inferno. Varus had no more luxury to focus on anyone else, even as the smell of charred flesh entered his nose.
She was well prepared, Varus observed. The effectiveness of crowd control was evident here.
Seven thick tentacles burst forth from Varus's back, tearing through his shirt. Rising from the ground, he assessed the damage. A monstrous concentration of source energy lingered where Windego had stood.
"Lucian's balls, she's trying to condense a source bomb!" Varus exclaimed. Determined to intervene he aimed at her again as his tentacles rushed towards her while his open palms began compressing magic.
"Telekinesis, Almighty Pull!" Thousands of invisible chains locked onto Windego this time, attempting to yank her towards him. But before they did so, Windego released her hold, and an enormous amount of concentrated source exploded, blasting apart everything in the vicinity, even ripping apart the rooftop of the deck.
A torrent of concentrated source shook the entire ship, causing a catastrophic explosion in the cargo deck and at the rear.
Varus turned pale, as he tried to evade the force but ultimately failed. His body was flung far away hitting two pillars and then the wall. Grievously injured and his vision cloudy, he tried to fortify his body by covering it with tentacles, the last thing he heard before blanking out was the sound of something alien rising from the sea itself and the collective screams of terrified people.
A/N: Obviously, can't defeat Lv. 10 Character as Lv.1