They sound of rushing water came from somewhere ahead of them, the rock underfoot mossy and slick. Semari was still mostly useless, her arms limp and useless, and also looking very pale and in need of a drink. Janaxia was still unable to call upon any magic, meaning that the only fighters were herself and Parth.

After the reek of vomit and dead monster-bug-thing, anything else was an improvement, and the moss seemed to be mundane and not hostile, hallucinogenic or otherwise dangerous. Some ancient ruins loomed through out of the darkness; fat, bulbous pillars with any ornamentation now eroded away or swallowed by moss. Semari was now staggering along, eyes shut and having to use Parth for support.

The source of the noise was easy to find, as they came to an endless-looking abyss, stretching further than the eye could see, inky-black water rushing past fast enough to splash spray onto the shore. A stone pier extended out over the water, treacherously slick underfoot, some kind of tablet or plaque at the far end. After making sure Semari wasn’t going to do anything stupid (not without being more conscious), Stathis cautiously approached, blade at the ready in case of hidden guardians. The tablet was a huge block of stone, glints of metal catching the firelight.

Stathis ordered. ‘Bring the light over, I need to look at this!’ With excessively careful footsteps, Janaxia approached, carefully planting each and every step, careful not to turn her ankle or trip and fall into the water. ‘Hurry it up!’

It was probably a good thing Janaxia didn’t have any magical abilities at the moment, or she would probably have shot Stathis, if the glare she gave her was anything to judge by. At least it was only wet stone, not bug guts or worse, and if she was going to wear something with heels on the job!

Now the torch was closer, she could make out the remnant of an inscription, half-shapes of letters where the spray had rubbed the metal away, leaving only the barest edges of shapes visible. She ran her fingers along the shapes, trying to figure out the text: “To cross the… something sea, then…”

‘It’s from the Sagas. Yurenius Hornslayer, of course. “To cross the darkest sea, then drink, and offer your world”. It’s from the time of the Bloodfire Wars, when there was awkwardness with demons and suchlike.’ Janaxia made it sound like some minor family squabble, although she probably knew which members of her family had been on which side.

‘So, murder-cult or just old poetry?’

The long pause before an answer indicated that the answer was going to be some variety of ‘both’.

‘It’s a complicated subject. Of course, there are many differing opinions.’ Janaxia sounded very blasé about something that had probably claimed countless lives.

‘You can give the history lesson later. Are we going to have to fight some demons or whatever, or is this a puzzle situation?’

Janaxia carefully ran a hand along the surface, carefully feeling in, holding the torch close to get a good look – although there were the remnants of other text, it was even more badly corroded. Well, at least the thing wasn’t splashed with blood. As she checked it, Stathis saw a light approaching, a pale speck over the endless darkness, distance and speed impossible to judge. As Janaxia continued to examine the tablet, it got closer, shifting from a tiny speck to a larger glow, heading straight for them. Stathis moved in front, wishing she had her armour and shield.

It approached, skimming over the water, becoming visible as a raft, moving with clearly magical speed over the water, light coming from a magelight that somehow functioned, despite the supressing aura. A robed figure, was acting as pilot, holding a long pole in the water to direct or power the raft, all that was visible of them being a grey shroud-cloak wrapped about a thin frame. Janaxia had the sense to duck behind the tablet, just in case things turned to violence.

The raft came to an unnaturally swift stop, becoming absolutely stationary in place. The pilot shifted slightly, face hidden in darkness. Stathis could see that their hand was pale, almost ivory white, skin stretched thin over bones. Their punting staff, loosely held in the other hand, was no simple stick, but was a long shaft of pale white wood, embedded with metal discs, the top holding a glowing sphere.

They held a hand up, and showed a tattoo inked onto their palm, symbol of an open eye, the pupil a jagged crack, making it look like they had a hole in their hand. The figure spoke, voice quiet, but their enunciation was precise and cultured.

‘All that seek passage must pay the toll, and drink of the darkness.’

‘Has anyone else passed this way? A group of people, probably flashily dressed?’ Stathis wanted to check they were hiding the right way before paying anything.

The figure didn’t respond for a moment, long enough to make Stathis wonder if it was actually alive, or some form of magical guardian, unable to respond outside of certain commands, before they answered. ‘The Guild of the Black Ferry keep the confidence of all passengers, that we may, or may not, have transported before. But if you wish to travel this abyss, you must pay the toll of passage, and the black toll.’

One of the discs on their staff burnt with a chill, blue light, and, with a theatrical flourish, they were suddenly holding a stone goblet, bubbling with liquid as it magically filled. They definitely had access to magic, somehow.

‘From the black river Malakania, dark with the blood of Kania First-Fallen, from the time of the Titans, a sip brings…’

Semari shoved past, and interrupted the speech by bending the goblet and loudly slurping at the water, drinking down big gulps, trying to recover from the earlier excess of alcohol. She took several loud gulps with relieved sighs, as the figure looked on, frozen in shock. Semari stood up, looking perkier, even as a dazed grin covered her face.

‘Oooo, pretty lights and feathers!’ Stathis reflexively glanced behind herself, making sure that her wings hadn’t somehow manifested, glad to see nothing. Semari staggered towards her, latching onto her for support. ‘Shiny!’ She giggled inanely, then whispered into Stathis’ ear, loudly enough to be heard by everyone. ‘She’s all, Janaxia’s all, like pointy, and spiky and red.’ She made a hissing noise, before giggling again, slowly sliding to the ground, looking at the pilot. ‘Oooo, sparkly! Rainbow shiny!’

‘What exactly did she just drink?’ It would be a nuisance if Semari was poisoned, although it wouldn’t make much difference to her combat skill at the moment. It hadn’t killed her, so probably wasn’t too bad?

They tried to keep a tone of gravitas, but Semari’s giggling noises coming from around knee level made it hard. ‘From the river Malakania, where the First-Fallen’s blood was shed. Those who drink a single sip gain insight into the very heart of the world, driving them mad with arcane knowledge!’

‘Right. And those who drink a lot? Is she going to be OK?’ Stathis asked.

There was a long pause as the pilot tried to think of an appropriately dramatic answer, before finally giving up. ‘I’ve never seen anyone chug it before, so I don’t know. Most people recover soon enough, but she’s probably seeing the spiritual realm at the moment.’

‘OK, so if we’ve paid the toll, will you carry us across now?’

‘That was the black toll. There is also the passage toll.’ From the relish with which they spoke, this seemed to be back on script, as their speech become more melodramatic and vibrant. ‘For a soul of gold to pass, gold must be paid. And for a soul of oldest night, platinum. And a copper each for the daughter of earth and the daughter of the woods.’

‘A platinum!?’ Stathis glanced over at Janaxia, weighing up the costs. If they ever got outside of this aura, then she’d be useful, but that was a lot of money. ‘If you’ll excuse us for a moment, we need to talk.’

She hauled the barely-conscious Semari over her shoulders, walking a discreet distance away.

‘Right, how much money has everyone got?’ Stathis rummaged through her pockets, finding a few stray coins, before handing Semari over to parth and digging through her belt-pouch – a surprising amount, likely collected from her busking at the party. Even a few gold – the guests clearly had far too much money if they were throwing it away on Semari! Parth handed a few coins over, but not before taking a note of the amount. ‘Janaxia, have you got anything?’

Janaxia gestured at her outfit and posed. ‘As you can clearly see, I have nowhere to keep such things.’ Stathis looked – her outfit didn’t allow for anything to be carried, at least without its outline being clearly visible. ‘This was supposed to be a simple job, after all.’

Between the three of them, they managed to throw together a small heap of coins, relatively fresh currency mingling with oddities looted from ancient tombs and dungeons, the amount piling up in Stathis’ hands. She returned to the ferryman.

‘I think this should be enough.’

A long sigh came from beneath the hood – they clearly weren’t used to dealing with lots of coins. Well, if they were going to charge that much! ‘Pile it down there.’ Even as they gestured, Stathis noticed that they kept one hand on the pole, their grip tight.

‘Thanks. Can I get a receipt as well? We’re here for a job, and costs are covered.’

The ferryman clearly hadn’t anticipated this, sense of gravitas now completely gone. Now she was on the raft, she could see that the edge of a bread roll, protruding out from a cloth sack, along with a rolled-up set of notes. Even ferrymen needed to eat and entertain themselves, even if they were working on weird magical underground rivers. They sighed, before gesturing with a spare hand. ‘Just get in.’

They obeyed, all standing on the raft. Despite their weight, as they stepped onto it, it didn’t move or shift at all, feeling just as steady as the pier. Fortunately, they didn’t count the money, as it was almost certainly short. It was probably allowable given the circumstances though, as they were trying to save someone’s life.

As soon as they were all on board, the raft shot into movement, sliding smoothly away from the pier, which rapidly faded from view, until they were surrounded by darkness, the only sound the smooth hissing of the water beneath them. Presumably having decided that a sense of mystery wasn’t worth trying to maintain at this point, the ferryman pulled back their hood, revealing pale-white skin, winding black tattoos etched over their face, a mazing, spiralling pattern, although at least theirs didn’t move. Long black hair, decorated with silver thread, flicked out, even as Semari rolled over with another giggle before clawing at the air, Parth pulling her away from the edge. Before she could try and make conversation, they picked up their lunch (still one-handedly) and glared at Stathis, as though daring her to make comment.