21 Seagulls

THE MONASTERY

Almost a month after they first entered the jungle, the crew finally arrived at the mountains of Loriax. The thunderbolts were so close now, that the men despaired. They couldn’t even talk anymore. They communicated through gestures and signals and just a few words in between the thunderbolts. None of them had seen anything like this. Perhaps only Ginom, if his claims were true.

The sky had permanently turned a deep purple color, and the crew walked on the steep, rocky paths on the sides of the mysterious crater on the center of the mountain. The eye of the Sentinel. Mascardi didn’t know what lay there, and he also didn’t want to risk finding out. His thoughts often raced back to the settlement. The journey had lasted longer than they’d anticipated, but there was no other choice. He only wished the return would be easier. They wasted many days on the rough paths, doing circles. Ginom was a good guide, but after all this time, even he couldn’t find the path that would lead them to their destination.

Tonight, though, they were in high spirits. Ginom had found a path made by goats and he was convinced it would take them to the monastery. Everyone had believed him.

Indeed, that night, through the continuous thunderbolts that hammered the mountains, the stone-built monastery appeared before them.

“There!” Ginom exclaimed excited. Plants and branches had scratched his cheeks and arms. He smiled like a child when his words were confirmed. They all howled in joy for a moment, but Mascardi cut it short, reminding them of the importance of silence even in a place like this.

“Let’s take a look,” he said and led the way.

The old monastery was a stone ghost. Whatever life it’d once hosted, it’d disappeared by now. Its wide windows had fallen victim to the wind, that’d battered their wooden frames. Old stones had piled up, worn by the passage of time. The two-story building dominated a high hill, surrounded by trees.

Mascardi paused outside the old oaken door. The thick wood’s color was pale, its paint faded, peeling off in places to reveal new coats inside. An old brass knob hung on it.

“Odet, a torch,” the captain ordered, and the young man lit one and gave it to him. Mascardi sheathed the trident on his back, held the torch with his left hand, and with his right drew out his curved sword. He turned to Vario and urged him forward. It was his way of telling him it was time to earn his coin.

The muscular man moved eagerly forward and grabbed the knob. He pushed with his body, and finally the door gave in to the pressure. The way it opened revealed it had stayed sealed for a long time, many years.

The monastery smelled of old wood, humidity, and a hint of wine, as if a cellar was nearby. Creaks upset the quiet, and Mascardi rushed to light the way, scared, only to see rats skittering away in the shadows.

They walked into the main hall. The torchlight created a halo around them and gradually revealed their surroundings, pushing back the dark veil that had taken roots in the old monastery.

Mascardi walked parallel to the pale walls and started lighting up any torch he found wedged on them.

One by one, the flames multiplied, and life returned to the room. Melted candles and old ceramic utensils made their appearance on long, wooden tables; each had a dozen chairs around it. Symbols were painted on the walls, spirals and similarly shaped runes. Mascardi wished old Karil or Basco were there with them; they possessed relevant knowledge.

“Captain,” young Aruzo said softly while standing by a table. Mascardi went to him. “Is that blood?” he asked, showing a big old stain on the table.

Mascardi shrugged. “It could be,” he said indifferently.

Stone steps led to the upper floor, and another thick wooden door led to another room. Mascardi pushed it carefully and the door opened, squeaking.

The mice retreated as if by unspoken agreement. There were hundreds of them, rushing towards the corners of the room that appeared before them. Old barrels, others open and some still shut, smelled of spices, mold, and humidity. The mice were having a feast on them.

Mascardi froze. A skeleton lay in the middle of the old room. There wasn’t a trace of skin left on it, and even the bone over the nose and around the eyes had been eaten away.

Odet did a gesture to ward off evil and murmured a prayer. Some of the others mimicked him.

“So?” Mascardi said lightly. “What did you expect? Hugs?”

Nobody said a word. Mascardi himself wasn’t as composed as he was trying to appear. He didn’t know what to expect, but this quiet made him nervous and his instincts kept gnawing at him.

In this big room that looked like an old kitchen, there was an old wooden hatch. The crew gathered around it and Mascardi took a deep breath.

“Let’s try upstairs first,” he said. “I’ll feel better knowing what lies above our heads.”

The group left the room and went up the stone steps. The upper floor revealed a number of symmetrical bedrooms with straw mattresses and symbols everywhere. The thunderbolts’ light flashed through the windows and the torch wasn’t needed now, but Mascardi felt safer near the live flame.

“Who lived here?” Ginom wondered as he stepped around like a panther, without relaxing at all.

“Demons,” Baltan answered fearfully, and received a glare from the captain, who didn’t like intimidation. He felt the crew was a single organism and knew fear was a spark that could quickly catch and spread.

“There’s nothing here,” Vario complained, breathing hard in the dark. Mascardi didn’t miss the frustration in his voice. Vario was in a hurry to find a treasure, since that was what he’d been promised.

The captain added this new concern to his long list but answered nothing. There was no room for carelessness, not yet.

“This place smells like death,” Baltan said again, and this time, transmitted his fear to the others.

“Baltan!” Mascardi scolded him.

“Forgive me, captain, but I feel it in my bones. There’s something here.”

“There’s something here? Nothing’s here,” Vario mocked him, raising his voice.

A fight started brewing. Fear and irritation and tiredness had taken a toll on them all, and that energy needed an outlet.

“Time to see what’s downstairs,” Mascardi intervened, wanting to divert that energy to something more productive.

When they stood over the hatch once more, the captain knew he would find answers behind this dark door. He didn’t feel excited anymore though, but afraid; a bad feeling had settled in his stomach.

His expression changed and the crew saw compassion on his face. “Keep your eyes open down there, lads. Remember, earth is like the sea. Its worst secrets lay hidden in its lowest places.”

He heard nothing from them in reply, not even their breathing. The men switched to smaller weapons, sensing they would probably find themselves in narrower spaces. They were many and they were afraid, and Mascardi realized they had a lot in common with the mice around them. When he looked at them a moment longer, he knew all of them were thinking the same thing.

“The seagull eats the mouse,” he said smiling and touched the hatch’s handle. He nodded at Vario, and he slipped his hand through the other handle. Together, they groaned and pulled, and the hatch groaned in turn, but finally opened. Dust puffed up like a cloud and everyone coughed and waved it clumsily away. 

Below, more stone steps led into the belly of darkness. Cobwebs decorated the passage. Not even mice went near it; nothing lived down there, as if life itself wasn’t welcome. The little creatures didn’t even approach because they knew better. They knew Baltan was right. Down there, it smelled like death.

***

Darkness suffocated the torchlight. When it spread like a cloak around them, Mascardi heard their teeth clenching. In a few motions, he relit the flame that’d been flickering, struggling to stay alive.

“The air is thin,” he observed as he walked in this new, low-ceilinged space.

His foot kicked something. Everybody stopped.

“Bones,” said Baltan, and he was right.

There were so many of them. On the stone, damp ground there were bodies, many bodies, countless even. They proceeded deeper into the room; it was huge, but there was nothing in it other than the skeletons. They were all near the wall on the one side of the room. Rusted knives lay next to them, swords, even axes.

“Weapons didn’t make a difference,” Odet said wistfully, holding up a small sword.

“What killed them?” Ginom wondered but no one could say.

Their steps had slowed down now, silent and cautious as they explored every inch of the place. Behind them, a ray of light escaped from the floor above through the stairs and unfolded like a golden pathway till the end of the steps. The light was quickly smothered afterwards though, as the crew walked the periphery of the room, exploring it.

“Nothing,” Vario said nervously. “There’s nothing. All this trouble for nothing.” He hit his fist against the wall; his chains rattled loudly.

“Easy, Vario,” the captain cautioned.

“Easy? Easy? This is as easy as it gets!” he complained. “It’s as quiet as the grave in here!” His words echoed on the walls. There was something in his rough voice that disturbed the quiet; Mascardi was trying to avoid that. He could feel some kind of danger lurking.

“I can’t understand what the use of this room was,” the captain went on.

“What do you mean?” Odet asked.

“There’s nothing here, only bodies,” he waved the torch from one side to the other. The fiery tongue moved and illuminated shadows and cracks. “I can’t understand what they used it for.”

Odet shrugged. “Perhaps some kind of cellar?”

“It doesn’t smell like a cellar; it doesn’t look like a cellar. It doesn’t look like anything. It makes no sense.”

“Captain, better come to terms with it, this may have been the most useless journey we ever made,” Baltan spoke up. “At least at the settlement we would get…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Vario’s growl startled them all. The colossal man marched towards Baltan. His anger had reached its peak and he needed to take it out on someone.

Baltan stepped back hastily, fumbling with his sword. His bad arm moved nervously.

“Easy, Vario!” the captain called, in vain. The big silhouette didn’t seem to slow down. “Vario!” he said again. “Stay back, that’s an order.”

“We’re not on your ship,” he answered through his teeth and let his chains drag on the ground, producing their characteristic sound.

They didn’t need light to know that Baltan had paled at that threat.

He stepped backwards, feeling the room shrinking, until his back hit the wall. Everyone heard the thump; Vario was almost upon him and nobody knew what it would take for his wrath to be spent. 

“Vario, no!” multiple voices called at the same time. Vario raised his arms, the chains looped around his forearms; Baltan extended his sword, but his frightened expression couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

Suddenly, a wet, deep sound startled them. Baltan felt himself leaning backwards. “What the…”

The wall behind him started melting, and the next moment, it was sucking him in. Vario couldn’t believe his eyes.

Baltan screamed, and the crew screamed with him at this horrific sight. Mascardi thrust the torch forward, unable to believe his eyes. The entire wall on one side of the room seemed to be moving. The damp stones seemed to be melting in front of them, and from within, humanoid figures, dismembered and merged together in one entity, started moving. Three crewmen fled screaming, and if someone barked an order, they never heard it.

Vario had frozen. The wall was alive, made from dismembered bodies that seemed alive, mashed up into a blob of flesh weaved by nightmares. Arms slithered out of the blob and pulled Baltan in, and within a moment, the old knight disappeared inside the wall.

Mascardi stared, his mouth trembling; Odet was crying, and even Vario mumbled incredulously.

“Attack!” the captain cried out, and the rest cried out with him.

He struck the blob with his sword and it seemed to be howling. Mascardi felt as if he were cutting through flesh; blood gushed out, along with mucus, nauseating him.

An arm shot out of the wall, wielding a spear. Before he could react, the spear pierced his shoulder. Mascardi cried out and tried to retreat, but the blade had gone through his shoulder and had stuck on his leather jerkin. He was pulled closer, and two more arms, dissimilar, appeared and started drawing him towards the wall.

Ginom’s whip ripped through the air and coiled around Mascardi’s neck. Choking, the captain made rattling sounds as he was trying to breathe and resist the arms that were pulling him. Ginom pulled at him, Odet struck with his sword and cut one of the arms, relaxing the grip.

Mascardi recoiled and fell on his back. He removed the whip from his neck and took a deep, ragged breath. Odet dodged an axe blow from the other arm and stepped back.

“How many of them are in there?” he yelled without expecting an answer, but with his one good eye saw something that broke his heart.

It was Baltan. It was the headless body he saw first, and then the head further away, moving its mouth and eyes. He was inside the wall, dismembered but alive; he’d become part of the nightmare.

Odet burst into tears. Even Mascardi nearly broke down – he couldn’t imagine an abyss worse than this.

When they retreated a few steps, from one moment to the next, the living wall froze and became a piece of granite once again, plunging the room in total silence.

“But where…” Mascardi’s question remained unfinished. The sailors that’d fled returned, regretful. Mascardi said nothing to them. He couldn’t criticize them for bolting after something like this; he was just glad they’d returned.

He lifted the torch again; the flame had survived. They all drew their weapons tentatively. When he was five feet from the wall, it became alive again. Its slaves’ otherworldly cries haunted them again. The wound on Mascardi’s shoulder made him dizzy; his balance was off, but adrenaline was washing through him. He started fighting with his sword against the wall’s arms and their weapons. The crew came to his aid. Their cries filled the room.

 “Slay it!” Odet yelled and all of them rushed at it like demons.

The wall was fighting them; the awful arms were skillful and had plenty of weapons. There were ten pairs of arms in there, and Baltan’s body made eleven. One arm disarmed Odet and a sword slashed at his stomach. The young man groaned and tried to escape but he’d been pinned down. Ginom, with his dagger, risked his life to reach his side and help him. His back and cheek got scraped, and the next moment, he felt the arms were so many and so fast, that there was no escape.

It wasn’t an equal battle; heads popped out of every conceivable spot on the wall, looking through their horrific sockets. The warriors’ feet got stuck on the fluids that streamed on the floor from the disgusting wall and its blob of flesh.

Mascardi lost control again. A shield deflected his blow – he’d never expected seeing one coming out of the wall; he slipped on the fluids and fell. An arm dragged him by his foot, and the next moment, the captain was sucked within the wall. The last thing he heard was his name from Ginom’s mouth.

Vario rushed forward like a bull. He let out a battle cry that would shame a demon, and crashed on the wall with force, pummeling it with his fists. In a moment of madness, the wall seemed to become thinner and the bodies within it appeared to break. Vario pulled the unconscious captain out of the blob and dragged him on his back, until Ginom pulled them further away, into safety. He was alive.

Vario remained entangled in the arms. He grabbed his axe and started cutting, slashing diagonally in a frenzy, each time on a different side, chopping at the wall like a log. The voices of the soulless bodies screamed, fluids spattered left and right, and Vario carved a path, thinning the wall further.

A spear was buried deep in his belly but that didn’t stop him. He cut off the arm that’d wielded it and the weapon clattered on the floor. The others rushed forward and started distracting the rest of the arms. Vario yelled again and cut something that felt like a tendon. When the piece of flesh was severed, more fluid than ever spilled on the floor and the wall started collapsing. A moment later, it started falling like a tower of sand as the voices howled and the arms and legs of the wall waved around, unable to hit or catch anything.

Vario fell on the floor and his unconscious body rose along with the blob created by the wall’s dead body. It was dead and motionless now, a fence of flesh that lowered enough to reveal the other side of the room. The torch had been extinguished, but the room wasn’t completely dark. There was a glimmer in the dark, countless little shimmers from the overflowing chests of gold further back.

The unimaginable battle was over, but everyone’s minds would be haunted by it forever. Mascardi suffered from such a shock, that he was nearly unable to take care of the last part of the mission. Vario was better, but his injuries urgently needed Alaoso’s care.

Without Vario’s help, carrying the load would be hard, but none of them minded the weight. It was a big treasure. Mascardi couldn’t estimate its total worth exactly, but it was surely enough for his plan’s first step.

After some rest and tending to their injuries, the crew split the burden between them in a fair fashion and started the journey back to the settlement.

***

The journey back was slow and hard. Nevertheless, day by day, the crew’s mood improved, and that veil of horror gradually slipped away from them. They all still thought of the monastery though; during the nights, many cried at the memory of the dismembered knight. Mascardi and the Seagulls had discovered that there were more horrible monsters than they’d originally imagined, and they could be found in the most unexpected places.

They returned to the settlement days later. Vario and Mascardi were lucky enough to not have their injuries infected. They felt better, both in body and spirit.

When the two groups of the crew united in one again, they sat at a tavern and exchanged stories. Basco explained to Mascardi what had happened the past few days; the Aquats they’d had to kill and the fact that people were a hair’s breadth away from turning against them. Dizan, however, had done a really good job in presenting them as noble and brave, and he was sure these events could also be polished and become quickly known through music.

The musician had fallen into a deep state of melancholy after the last events. Slaughtering the tribe of water elves had cost him a part of his soul, and his eyes were permanently shadowed now. He presented the captain with his desire to not use his music again, but Mascardi refused and Dizan didn’t insist. His job had just begun, he said, and they all had played a part in this madness. Baltan knew that better than anyone, he’d added one day. Dizan didn’t argue further after that.

A few nights later, having left the crew to regain its strength both physically and mentally, the time had come for the next steps to be discussed. Mascardi hadn’t entrusted anyone with his plan because he wanted the first step to be completed before that. Now that this had been done successfully, despite the losses they’d suffered, he gathered Basco, Karil and Dizan in a room to brief them.

Some objections and suggestions about the gold and its distribution started the conversation, but Mascardi cleared the air quickly.

“The gold you see isn’t available. A small part of it will be shared between us equally, but the rest is already spoken for.”

The men couldn’t believe what they heard. “Who is it supposed to belong to?” Karil asked.

“Is it the king?” Basco asked, equally in the dark.

“Are you drunk?” Mascardi answered smiling. “We will use this gold to establish our position in Loriax. I have already sent relevant messages to mercenary agencies.”

“Mercenaries?” Dizan asked and Mascardi nodded.

“Paper swords isn’t the best thing, but they’re more reliable than pirates.”

“Barely,” Basco added smiling.

“But they are, Basco, and we need men.”

“What’s the plan, captain?” Odet asked with an eagerness that pleased Mascardi. The young man seemed to have grown through the hardships. Even his face looked different, lined and battered. His usual whining had been pulled away like a curtain, and he seemed eager and more alive than ever.

The captain placed his hand on his shoulder. “The plan remains the same,” he said. “We will claim the islands. All the islands.” He stood up, looking at each of them in turn. “But not for the king.”

The silence that ensued was electrified. Karil smiled sardonically.

“We will claim them for ourselves. We will become lords of the islands and Lothen will become the Lion that chases after its tail.” Whistling and cheering followed his words. Karil banged his fist on the table ecstatically; even Basco grinned like a child.

“We will pay an army to hold the island under our banner. Until the Lothenians realize what’s happening, we will have claimed another, maybe two more islands. We, the Seagulls and no one else, however many of us are left, will claim them. I swear by the blood of the Luvar and the Amar and the Sentinel itself.”

Karil stood up solemnly. Mascardi bowed his head at him, acknowledging his loyalty. The trusted circle of the archpirates came closer.

“I will tell the men,” Mascardi said. “I want them to know where we’re going and what we’re doing. I want them to know that the bards will be singing of us not because I say so,” he looked at Dizan, “but because we will truly become a legendary story. We will make history, brothers. And become rich in the process!”

More cheers. They howled like wolves, and whoever heard them from outside couldn’t imagine what reason a few killer sailors had for celebrating.

“There are plenty of islands out there and only the gods know what nightmares haunt them. It won’t be easy. Ginom, though, says that the worst monsters wake up in the winter, and we have enough time to get rid of most of them before fall. If indeed we succeed, then the rest will be easy. We’ll have the army, the power and the land to face whatever Lothen and the gods throw our way!”

The last words weighed heavily. Karil didn’t like to curse at or challenge the gods and his expression bespoke of it, but the captain’s words played at the strings of his heart and he remained reservedly happy. Odet didn’t seem to be afraid anymore, and all of them experienced an anxious kind of impatience that made them feel more alive than ever.

They embraced, drank –even Mascardi–, yelled and shared the news with the rest of the crew. A long celebration followed on the island, with the crew genuinely joyous and the residents inadvertently joining them.

The days passed peacefully on the Island of Thunder and it soon became known that Mascardi Berio was the lord of this place. People greeted him respectfully, and every day, they gazed beyond the cliffs in the north, waiting for new ships filled with mercenaries. Mascardi didn’t need to wait for them before he departed. He wanted to buy time. There were many miles between them and their next destination; the seas were vast and the crew’s moral high enough for them to act and fight as one.

21 Seagulls –less now– sailed from the Port of Thunder towards new seas, leaving behind a curtain of thunderbolts and the heavy sun sinking behind the cliffs of Loriax.

The afternoon of their departure, the captain received a strange visit. The dark-haired woman that’d been staring at him in the tavern after the killing of the residents, appeared on the beach just before the ship sailed. Her angered expression had changed, revealing beautiful cheekbones beneath almond-shaped eyes and raven-black hair. She wore a dress and walked barefoot.

“What are you doing here, lady?” Mascardi asked, chuckling at her sight as the last man boarded the ship.

“You killed my husband,” she said, but Mascardi didn’t react. Something in her eyes told him he had no reason to worry.

“I’ve killed many of those,” he admitted, shrugging. “I’m sure one of them will one day kill me.”

The woman arched an eyebrow; something inside Mascardi fluttered at the sight.

“It could be a woman who kills you.”

Mascardi smiled, seemingly agreeing. Behind them, the men jeered and howled like dogs. The woman smiled too. She had many pretty teeth.

“The men are calling me, my lady. What can I do for you that I didn’t do all this time I spent here?”

His hair fell in front of his mouth. He knew the effect he had. That woman, though, was closer to his age, beautiful and stronger than the women of Lothen.

“I want to come with you,” she confessed, and Mascardi hadn’t been expecting that.

“Why?”

“Because there’s nothing for me here. You killed my husband. Now, I’m your responsibility.”

Mascardi scratched his jaw. “I’m not very good at my responsibilities,” he admitted. “Especially in certain departments.”

The woman wasn’t discouraged. She revealed a small, one-handed crossbow.

He flinched. “I hate crossbows,” he grunted.

The woman smiled. “It’s not for you, don’t worry. Now, help me up, captain.”

Mascardi felt helpless. He couldn’t even think, let alone react. Without meaning to do so, he offered her his hand and helped her on board. She walked with unexpected ease. Standing further up, the men watched incredulously.

Vario is going to kill me. That was the first thought that crossed his mind, but for some reason, he did nothing. He climbed on the deck after her and removed the board.

Had the Lover or the Two-Faced Man appeared now? Or had the cards already told their story?