A Deep Problem, Part I

Sheldon Burnston

Spring 2003

With a sigh, Grover Treeman pushed the small pile of copper and silver coins into the box and locked it. Business was not too bad at the Rusty Scupper, considering that it was a midweek night and all of Toolibrie was suffering from the lack of trade, not to mention the recent Catastrophe and the Lyfeyian Inquisition. He watched the rest of his staff – his daughter-by-bond Lariandra, Otis the bouncer and Amanda the cook – finish cleaning the taproom and gather the sweepings into the fireplace. The portly, tired man rose to his feet with a grunt and went to pour himself a small tankard of dark ale. He had earned it already, he thought, and the night was far from over.

As he returned to his seat, he reflected on how lucky they were that they didn’t really have to depend on the earnings of the tavern to survive. If they did, they would have had to lower the quality of their offerings, as had most of their competitors. However, the Rusty Scupper had developed a reputation by now of a place to get a beer that wasn’t watered down, a meal that wouldn’t make you sick, fair to good entertainment, and most importantly, safety. Patrons knew that they didn’t have to worry about their pockets being picked or some bullying stranger provoking a fight. Otis and Grover were both big men, and while they were mild-mannered like many big men, they had proven they knew how to handle themselves in more than one brawl. And somehow, Grover’s two daughters-by-bond had an uncanny knack at spotting a dip or a guller, so that pickpockets and con artists found other places to ply their trades. The reputation for safety and privacy brought them plenty of business, even if the serving wenches never seemed to be interested in earning any extra coin for their favors.

Grover wondered what his clientele would do if they knew that he and all his staff were flying under false colors. He was actually Bartholomew, Druid of the Grove, Guardian of the Tree of Life, and Moonstone-holder of Falo, the Clan of the Heart, while his “daughter” Lariandra was Rodin Rae D’Cordelia, captain of the good ship Darkmyste and also Moonstone-holder of Falo. Galen, who was “visiting her parents,” was in actuality Shade Song ri Lomelindele, Baroness of Boren Dur and also of Falo, while “Amanda” and “Otis” were Druids of the local Grove.

Bart, Rodin Rae, and Shade Song had opened the Rusty Scupper about three years ago, when Toolibrie had become unsafe for the fey, and humans who associated with them, due to the inroads of the Lyfeyian missionaries from across the Westron Sea. It allowed Falo, the Druids, and their friends and allies to have an active ear into doings in Toolibrie, both on the surface and in the underworld.

Their normal lines of information, Jomton the Shipwright and Mother Mabel’s House of Pleasure, had both closed up for the duration of the troubles. While Jomton had reopened, Mabel and her girls were having too much fun shocking the poor sisters of the House of Mercy in the countryside to want to come back to their “business.” Otis and Amanda, actually Brother Hawthorne and Sister Laurella of the local Druidic Grove, ran the place with hired local help when Bart, Rodin Rae, and Shade needed to be elsewhere.

There was a faint knock at the door. Rodin Rae was near it and looked at Bart with a raised eyebrow. He nodded, and she turned to take down the wooden beam that barred the door for the night.

Bart turned to the other two in the room. “My children, if you would excuse us now?” he said. “This business does not need you, and you should rest.” He

lifted his hand in the sign of benediction of his Order. “May the Great Tree guard your rest.”

The two Druids bowed their heads in acceptance, and retired to the kitchen, just as Rodin Rae ushered Jomton into the taproom. She greeted her old friend with a peck on the cheek and saw him to a chair while Bart brought a tray with a pitcher of ale, two mugs, and assorted food tidbits. He poured for his friends.

Jomton took a deep swallow, belched and wiped his handlebar moustache. “Ah, tha’s a good’un. Thankee, Cap’n Bar… I mean, uh, Brother Bart.”

Bart looked at his former crewman with a dour glare, while Rodin Rae snickered. True, it was an open secret now that the good and kindly Druid had once been the notorious pirate and reaver known as Black Bart, the terror of the Westron Sea, but he still didn’t care to have it mentioned so casually. However, try as he might, he had never been able to break his former ship’s carpenter of the habit of addressing him as “Captain Bart,” and as he aged, Jomton slipped more and more into his old ways.

It’s starting to happen, old son, the Druid mused, just as Ghost Dancer told me so long ago. While my bond with the Tree preserves me, all my old shipmates and comrades are aging and nearing the end of their spans. I begin to see why he called it ‘the elfin curse’. “Humph,” he muttered to the others, “let’s get down to business, here. It’s late, and Rodin Rae and I have a tavern to run tomorrow. Jommie, what can you tell us?”

Jomton turned to the elvin woman, his wide smile revealing more spaces than teeth. “Lass, that’s a sweet ship y’have a’buildin’, eff’n I say so meself. She’s come through her sea trials right proper, an’ she’ll be ready fer yer usage in less’n a fortnight, if I ken it properly. But she still doon’ have a name, an’ it ain’t fitten that a sweet lady such as her should make her maiden voyage wi’oot a proper name, eh?”

Rodin Rae looked up at him. “Aye, Jommie, I know that. But the naming must wait on another, she who gave us the special wood for the hull. And I have not heard from my sister Angelica in several moons now. So if need be, the new vessel will sail nameless, although like you, I would rather it be otherwise.”

It was Jomton’s turn to sigh. “Eh, lassie, if the Gods will it, then that is what must be. But I have other news for ye, and for you too, Bart.” The old pirate unconsciously leaned closer and lowered his voice, as if he didn’t trust that they were truly safe from being overheard. “Here’s what them Lyfeyian bastards are up to now…”

The three remained at the table for several hours, analyzing and discussing the plans of their sworn enemies. When they found they were going over the same ground again and again with no further progress, Bart and Rodin Rae bid their guest good night, and Jomton went out into the darkness.

Before they took to their respective bedchambers, Rodin Rae looked at her clan brother. “He’s getting too old for this, Bart.”

“I know, Captain, I know. As would I, if not for the Tree’s Grace. He’s lucky that he has Gwillem. At least his son will take up the helm of the shipyard when Jommie finally comes to port.”

“Yes. Well, I’m for bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Aye, Captain, and it promises to be another just like it in the morn. But we will have to do sommat within the week, if we want to finish our business and still be able to be at Willow’s for the Yule gather. May the Great Tree guard your rest, my sister.”

As he lay in his bed, Bartholomew tried to remember what he knew of sea elves. He had spent much time with Shade Song in his youth, some forty or more years ago, and had been foster father to her brother Luthenar for much of the past decade, so his knowledge of the ocean-living Fey was more than most landlubbers would have. He even spoke the Star Cove dialect of sea elvin, after a fashion, and could read their language passably well, but he really knew nothing of this new deep-ocean tribe.

The letter had come as something of a surprise. Rinka Tur, his new friend, had discovered a scroll in her pouch addressed to “Blackpearl,” the sea elvin name that Rodin Rae bore, and somehow she knew when she handed it to him that it was meant for him as well. It told of a new danger for both the sea folk and the land folk, brought on somehow by the Great Cataclysm that had recently shaken the whole world. Once he had a chance to bring it to Rodin Rae at the Rusty Scupper, she too professed ignorance of this tribe of sea elves, but they both felt it was necessary to investigate further into the threat it mentioned.

Well, old son, he thought drowsily, at least you’ll get more use out of the Necklace of the Dolphins Shade Song gave you so many years ago…

And so it was that, less than two weeks later, Bartholomew and Rodin Rae found themselves in a secluded cove, a few leagues south of Toolibrie. Their mounts and belongings, except for what they planned to take with them, would be left with the faithful Brother Hawthorne, who had accompanied them and would be returning to this spot at high tide each night for the next week. The small fishing skiff that would be their resting base was floating at anchor, ready to depart with the tide fast approaching ebb. It had been brought to this bay by one of the sea elves who lived near Toolibrie, aided by the local Druids, and was equipped with food and supplies for a two-week trip.

Wearing only his magical necklace and holding his Druid’s staff, Bart turned to his companion and clan sister. Rodin Rae had not disrobed completely; she was still wearing an undergarment that covered her from chest to knees. It seemed to be some type of linen shift, but with legs like a pair of trews.

“Rodin Rae? Are you planning on wearing that under water? It will only serve to slow you down when swimming.” Bart noticed that she seemed to be looking anywhere but directly at him, and her face was turning some interesting colors.

“Uh, yes I am, Bart. Does that present a problem for you?”

“No, my dear, if that’s what you choose.” Without saying another word, the Druid donned his smallclothes again, and saw his companion noticeably relax. “And now, if you’re ready, let’s begin.”

The two waded out into the surf. Bartholomew took a deep breath, but no more than that, and dove beneath the waves. He felt the tingle pass through his body, signaling a magickal spell taking effect over him, and he stretched his arms and took a swimming stroke. His body shot through the water, much faster than a normal swimming human. Looking to the side, he saw Rodin Rae keeping up with him, stroke for stroke, without the benefit of any magickal device.

Very strange, old son, he thought, she swims almost as well as a sea elf born. Worth looking into, once we finish the business at hand.

They rapidly approached the fishing boat and pulled themselves aboard. With the ease of long familiarity, Bartholomew raised the sail and took the tiller in hand while his companion pulled the anchor aboard. The small craft rapidly made its way out to sea, and before long, their companion on the coast was beyond the horizon. The three-quarter waxing moon gave them plenty of light on the cloudless night, and the sea was deceptively smooth and calm.

For most of the next week, the two companions followed a set schedule, ranging out from their boat as far as they could in separate directions and returning in the early afternoon to eat and rest. This was followed by moving their craft further out into the limitless ocean waters until well after sundown, one at the tiller while the other scouted through the waters, until the time was right for them to take their rest in turns until dawn. Fortunately, there was but one storm during this time, which the pair of experienced sea-farers passed uneventfully.

Still, their scouting expedition found nothing out of the ordinary – no strange sea-elvin, no monsters, no new dangers of any kind. True, the sea revealed beauties and terrors, but of the normal kind. There were sharks and barracuda aplenty, but there were also dolphins and whales and fish and birds. Rodin Rae and Bart quickly fell into the habits of old, passing long hours in silent but agreeable companionship, speaking when the needs of the moment or their mission required.

On the day before their last on – the day they had agreed to turn homeward – Bart surfaced next to the small skiff to find Rodin Rae already there. This was unusual, because as time had passed, they had discovered that she could swim farther and faster than he, and remain under water far longer, so that she had taken to ranging further and further out into the ocean and returning a bit later than he. Moreover, there was a glint of excitement in her eye and in her posture.

“You’ve found something, lass?”

“Aye Bart, I have, or rather, it has found me. At the limit of my search this morning, I saw a sea elf swimming towards me, mounted on a large dolphin. He spoke to me in some underwater language, all whistles and hums, but when I indicated I didn’t understand, we surfaced and spoke in Common. We’ve found them, Bart! This woman, Melindara, who sent me the scroll, is of their tribe! He even asked me if I was ‘the Blackpearl,’ and told me that they have been looking for me for over a moon!

“When I told him that I had a companion, we agreed that he and an escort will meet us here this afternoon and lead us to his people’s home islands! Oh Bart, we must take care! She and her friends are acting without their leaders’ permission, and they can be executed if they are discovered!”

Bart nodded. “Yes, lass, the scroll she sent made that clear. Are you sure that this is safe for us to do, both for ourselves and for them?”

“Bart, we have little choice. We must help them, and at the same time help ourselves and our friends. We must discover what this danger is that is facing us all, and do what we can to eliminate it.”

“Then I shall pray to the Tree for guidance and protection, Captain, and I suggest that you do the same.”

Within an hour, four sea elves riding dolphins and carrying long trident spears popped up through the water with a large, showy display, bracketing the skiff. There were three men and one woman, and none of them seemed to be wearing more than a small loincloth and decorative necklaces and bracelets. The female approached the boat.

“Land-dwellers, you are to come with us. The princess awaits.”

Bart and Rodin Rae looked at each other in surprise. There had been nothing in the scroll from Melindara to indicate that she was of noble birth. With a shrug, they agreed to go with their escorts. Lines were quickly attached to the forward thwarts on the skiff and looped around two of the dolphins. With their riders swimming alongside, they began pulling the craft along the surface of the ocean, and before long it was moving faster than it ever had under its sails. After about three hours, they stopped briefly while the pulling dolphins were unhitched and exchanged with the other pair.

Long after sundown they continued to move through the waters, until Bart could hear, off in the distance, the faint roar of surf hitting a beach. He looked at his companion questioningly.

“Yes, I hear it, Bart. Land.”

Before long, the boat came to a halt, and one of the male sea elves indicated that they would have to swim ashore from where they were. Both Bart and Rodin Rae easily made shore, and the woman and one of the men joined them.

“This way,” the woman said curtly, and started off through the brush. The man took up the rear.

They made their way down a small path through the underbrush and shortly came to a clearing. It was covered with clean sand and surrounded by palm trees. Waiting at a small fire were another female sea elf and two elderly males. The men stood as they approached, but the woman remained seated. In the firelight, Bartholomew could see that both men wore some kind of pectoral device, held to their bare chests with straps. It was a design both familiar and strange; a palm tree in a circle. With a start, Bart realized that these two were Druids; not of his order and training, but Brethren just the same. The greeting they gave him, virtually identical to the sign of blessing he used, was the proof.

“Well met, Brother,” said one. “We greet you in the Fellowship of the Tree, and make you welcome to our Grove. Come, we have much to discuss, while the Lady you brought speaks with the Lady who summoned her. And, of course, you will want to pray…”

As Bartholomew started to go off with the two sea elf Druids, Rodin Rae made as if to call him back.

“There is no need, sister.” The sea elf woman’s voice was low but melodious. “He is safe, as are you. We mean you no harm; rather, we seek your help, as I have stated.”

“You are the one who wrote the scroll? I have so many questions…”

“Yes, sister, I am sure you do. But please, sit here with me, and refresh yourself.” She held out a bowl filled with tropical fruits, and Rodin Rae helped herself.

“I- I don’t know where to begin,” Rodin Rae said. “Your scroll calls me ‘sister,’ but as far as I know I only have a little sea elf blood in me… And there is this danger you spoke of. Does it have anything to do with the ships we have lost? And what can I do about it? And just who are you, and why are you in danger from speaking with us?”

“Patience, sister.” The sea elf smiled softly. “One thing at a time. I will give you what answers I can, but I must first talk of our plight.

“I am daughter to she who rules our clan. The youngest of three, I have no power and no voice in the decisions made by our rulers, since it is thought that I stand little or no chance of leading our people. I, therefore, was not watched as closely as my older sisters were, and I was able to range far and wide through the seas. I have met and befriended many land-dwellers, and learned that even the humans are not all evil in their ways.

“Then came the Great Shaking, six moons ago, when all was made new and yet still remained old. New chasms opened in the depths, and currents flowed in new directions. And from out of the depths came a creature of ancient legend and nightmare, which has laid waste to our home seas and your vessels alike.

“We could not swim against this monster alone, but all our efforts to reach our brothers and sisters of the Eastron Reefs have been in vain. I asked the council and my mother to seek aid among the surface dwellers, but they refused – so set in their ways, like a clam embedded in the coral, that they would rather perish than chance contact with those such as your companion.

“My only hope for help lay with our Ocean Priests. They are of the same faith as your human friend, although they swim with different strokes, and they told me of you. And so I reached out, sending scrolls of message with the few sailors I had come to trust, and prayed that they would find you. As you see, my prayers have been answered.”

Rodin Rae sat for a moment in thought. “Well, I’m sure you think your prayers have been answered, but I am only a ship’s captain, and one without a crew at that. What makes you think I can help?”

“You really don’t know, do you, Blackpearl? There is more in the sea’s depth than the surface would suggest, eh?” The sea elf looked at Rodin Rae archly. She in turn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Besides,” she continued, “you have friends who command great powers. If you cannot help, my people are doomed.”

“Uh, yes,” Rodin Rae responded, “well… perhaps. But you still haven’t told me just what it is that you face.”

“In the morning, my sister. I will take you then to see for yourself. But for now, I ask that you follow me. There is a hot spring where you can bathe, for I know that you of the surface value that, and then a safe place to sleep for the night. Your companion will pass the night with our Druids, and together in the morning you will see.”

It was as she said. Melindara led Rodin Rae to a secluded pool where the water was slightly warmer than body temperature. After a relaxing bath, she was given a warm robe and led to a cave where a pallet over cut brush made a fair bed. Rodin Rae quickly fell asleep, and did not wake until dawn.

Brother Bartholomew joined her at breakfast, and he was uncommunicative about his night. She assumed that what had transpired was one of those “Druidic Mysteries” he had mentioned from time to time, and so forbore to ask any questions. As they were finishing up, the sea elf princess appeared again, greeting them gravely.

“My friends, if you are ready, we will show you the menace before us. Be warned; we are swimming in dangerous waters, so follow our lead exactly.”

She led them to the shore, where they all dove under the waves and swam out into the ocean. Three of the other sea elves were waiting there sitting upon dolphins, with extras for Melindara, Bart, and Rodin Rae. The two land-dwellers were shown how to “ride” their mounts, and told to remain in the middle of the group, for safety. Then they all set off for the open sea.

After a good hour’s swim, the group suddenly dove deep. Bart, caught by surprise, had a bit of difficulty holding on to his dolphin, but he saw that Rodin Rae managed the maneuver easily. He shook his head. One more reason to think there was some truth to the sea princess’ claim.

Deeper and deeper they went. Although the trusted magic necklace kept him comfortable, Bart was all too aware of the hundreds of feet of ocean over them, and the weight of its waters pressed on his mind if not his body. Soon they came to an old, dead coral reef, and the dolphins swam between and under them as if to hide. The elf in the lead held up his hand and they all stopped. He turned to Bart and Rodin Rae and mimed to them for silence. Then he indicated that they should look off to the right, where the sea floor continued to slope downward into the depths.

At first Bart saw nothing. Black waters was all. But slowly, as his senses adjusted, he felt a stirring of the waters rising from far below. It was cold and somehow menacing. And then he saw it. A huge shape, far larger than anything he had seen before, looming up out of the deeps. As it neared, it continued to grow, until he could scarcely comprehend how large it was. It was as if a mountain of flesh was rising up from the deep ocean floor. Its long tentacles, each as thick as the trunk of a large tree, were writhing in front of it. As it passed, Bart could see an eye, larger than his head, darting around. It radiated a cold intelligence and implacable evil. And then it passed.

Bart shivered as he watched it swim away through the waters. He looked over at Rodin Rae, and saw the look of despair on her face that mirrored his own. She, too knew the menace they faced; a creature out of ancient legend. A monstrous fiend to be reckoned with.

Kraken.

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