Sam Mathews

The Wraith of Gish Lament

Part I

-Ancient old bigotry-

“There’s something funny wit the wine,” Lynch Cole, the fighter from Parmaport, grunted and glared at the blank faced Zilan venue-owner behind the counter.

Hush, the silent scrawny woman from Demames, scrunched her face and returned Sam’s questioning stare. The scar low on her throat clearly visible though healed. The story went that Cole had almost killed her in a duel some time back, but they had become inseparable after that.

The reason for their quarrel left unsaid.

“Stop drinking,” Hilton Marlo, from Islandport allegedly, cautioned him. “Let Mathews here explain it again.”

Jingo -the only Issir of their little group- pressed his dark lips into a thin smile, amber eyes slightly different in size disconcerting. Sam knew Marlo from Jelin and he’d heard about Cole and Hush, but didn’t know Jingo, though the name did ring a bell.

“I could also offer a plate of native selections,” Folen told them grinning manically.

“What selections?” Lynch Cole asked him with a grimace.

“Cuts of lamb meat and roasted fruits,” Folen deadpanned. “As fresh as they can be.”

“Ahm, what fruit? Like bananas? Why, I’m not… how do ye roast fruits for crying out loud?”

“You toss them in a pan,” Folen explained. "Call 'em fried if you're uncomfortable with the term friend."

“That’s not what I meant—”

“How about we get back on track here?” Hilton Marlo cut him off slapping the bar with a hand. “Mathews? Ye seem skeptical there mate.”

“I was expecting you, Cole and Hush,” Sam said and wiped the sweat gathered on his forehead with a finger.

“Jingo is from Trinir back in Kaltha,” Marlo explained. “Run with Jester Grin, weren’t you Jingo?”

“That’s right,” Jingo said sounding disinterested. That’s where I heard the name, Sam thought and nodded.

“Sibren Maats company. Where’s the old dog?” He asked the calm Issir.

“Retired back in Farvor. Could be he traveled further north though,” Jingo told him leaving it at that.

“Haha, I bet he did,” Marlo guffawed seeing as he’d worked with Sibren in the past and knew him well.

“Right. What happened to Jester Grin?”

“He didn’t make it,” Jingo replied.

“Blade, or beast?”

“White Fever.”

Sam nodded. “Sorry for yer loss. Not many adventurers out of Trinir, them Greywoods favors hunters’ right?”

Jingo shrugged his shoulders. Sam couldn’t see a bow on him, but assumed the man had one.

“Mathews I like you mate, but you’re stalling here,” Marlo said looking at him.

“Maeriel thinks I’m wrong,” Sam explained.

“That the cute Zilan girl?”

“Her teacher. She’s a ranger and a huntress.”

“Right,” Marlo said, gold dental bridge on the left side of his mouth gleaming. “Why?”

“Didn’t give me the specifics.”

“But you’re sure they came together?” Cole asked him paying the Zilan with a silver. Folen made a show of biting on it, afore slotting it in his heavy leather purse.

“One for the road?” He asked Sam in a friendly manner.

“No thank you,” Sam replied in a less friendly fashion, as he didn’t trust Folen not to give him an ulcer, if he was lucky and turned to Cole. “They gathered a couple of kilometers from the festival grounds in the middle of the forest. Grouped up and strolled through the trees following animal paths all the way to the pyramid,” he paused to take a breath afore adding. “Four days later. They did it on foot and upon reaching that point, they turned and headed straight south into the plaguing jungle.”

“All twelve of them?” Marlo asked.

“Could’ve been more tracks mixed in there,” Sam replied. “By the time I found the spot, ten days had gone by.”

“Could it be yer mistaken?” Cole probed.

“I know one footprint from another Cole,” Sam grunted.

“Where are they going?” Marlo asked.

“No idea. I think they are led.”

“Kidnapped?” Hush murmured in her throaty manner. “By whom?”

“Cultists?” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “A bunch of Zilan still living in the jungle, some other shite.”

Marlo snorted. “What other shite?”

Sam didn’t know. But his gut was telling him Maeriel did.

“I trust Mathews,” Marlo decided. “I didn’t come here to drink what I piss in the lake, could’ve done that back home,” Folen frowned momentarily, but then continued to clean the counter pretending he wasn’t listening in. “We’re in,” Marlo added and everyone nodded in agreement.

-

Goras south Jungle

Five days later

Cole recoiled letting go of the thick branch he was holding, the ‘branch’ coming alive with a drawn-out hiss. Hush who was coming up behind him hurled her machete without hesitation, the heavy blade flipping once mid-air, afore smacking the trunk of the moss covered tree penetrating deep, but missing its target.

“Fuck!” Cole gasped dropping on his arse in the attempt to move away from the giant snake that had unfurled itself from the tree. The body of the grey and dark green thing a meter in diameter, extending from one side of the flora covered ancient road to the other.

“Jingo get that axe out!” Marlo yelled and moved to assist the frantically trying to escape adventurer. Only the impressive anaconda wasn’t going after him, but it attempted to slither away instead. Elaniel dropped from a branch over their heads, rolled on the leaves covered cracked tiles and put a hand on Cole’s chest.

“Don’t make noise,” she told him soothingly, the approaching Marlo snorting at her words.

“Move aside girl,” he grunted sword in hand.

Elaniel turned her head and stared at him undaunted.

“Let it go away,” the Zilan said. “It wishes to be left alone.”

Marlo grinded his teeth and watched as the giant snake crossed the road and disappeared into the shrubbery between the tree trunks, a deep frown marring his face.

“Gods darn it,” he cursed the moment the jungle appeared normal again, as much as that was possible. “Never stand in me away again girl.”

“We are not here to fight the jungle, or its creatures,” Elaniel told him getting up. “Angering them will not do us service.”

“Why you—!”

“Enough Marlo!” Sam barked cutting him off. “Help Cole on his feet, he looks shook.”

“I’m bloody fine,” Cole grunted whilst Hush helped him stand, not very convincingly. “Fuck me life!”

“We might have to fight the jungle Elaniel,” Sam said turning on the young ranger. “Keep that in mind.”

“I shall Sam Mathews,” she replied with a knowing smile. “Always.”

“Where’s Maeriel?” Sam asked her, uncomfortable with the Zilan’s passive-aggressive flirting.

“Soren found a small stream late,” the Zilan turned her head around, long ears moving on their own to the jungle’s sounds. “They had to pull him out of the mud.”

“Too deep?”

“No, he’s just too heavy,” Elaniel replied. “Some rare species stand better on harder ground, or can navigate a thick canopy, don’t they Sam Mathews?”

Ah, same way as a smart Zilan’s insight is shoved down one’s gullet, whether he asked for it or not.

“The fuck is she talking about?” Marlo grunted still pissed from earlier. Sam had no idea other than that she was fishing for praise. Glen always preached that the Zilan used mind-tricks and spells of sorts to get their way. It made the adventurer jumpy around them at first. Live enough near them and you drop yer guard though, he thought. “We got to move Mathews, me undergarment is cutting into my ball sack mate. I’m getting’ worried,” a scowling Marlo added.

“Better than have mud in it,” Cole griped trying to clean his pants, while Hush walked to the tree and got her blade back. “Shit. I think somethin’ gotten inside!”

“It won’t last long in there,” Hush droned gravely.

“Hush take point,” Sam ordered with a sigh and smacked an insect feasting on his blood dead with a heavy hand, only for two more to take its place on his nape. “Everyone line up after her, keep yer eyes peeled people! Jingo bring up the horses.”

The fire crackled, its flames licking the steaming branches, the rain pouring over the jungle’s canopy and creating streams of watery mud that rushed through the animal passages, flooding the rare openings and turned the ancient road they had been following for a week into a river.

“Have to drain the main vein,” Hilton Marlo yelled at a complaining Cole. “So keep an eye out for me an’ mine. I can’t do it in the plaguing open!”

“That big motherfucker is still around,” Cole warned him.

“It’s the small snakes you need to look out for,” Sam reminded them.

“Just want someone to check on my arse. I tend to look at my cock whilst doin’ the deed for crying out loud!” Marlo complained.

“I ain’t doing that champ. I’ve a weak stomach,” Cole retorted all serious. “Hush wanna take over arse-guarding duties?”

Hush crooked her mouth and raised her right fist, middle finger extended.

“Eh, I tried my dude,” Cole said with a shrug holding a three foot wide giant leaf over his head to protect himself from the downpour. “Just point it in ‘em bushes an’ let rip, rain will wash it right off.”

The rumble of an unseen thunder came, the sound bouncing off the trees and Sam moved long knife in hand towards the ancient road. They had rushed to the sides for shelter, the road now a river, its mustardy colored water scrapping it to the foundations, but also bringing a ton of material down from everywhere else. Grit, leaves, branches, rotten trunks and even animal carcasses. Sam worked his way towards their guides following the ‘banks’ of this new river, water dripping off his armour and soaked clothes. Five minutes later he found himself lost in the dark and the rain had stopped as fast as it had appeared an hour back.

A silence taking its place, with only sounds of water dribbling down from trees and the thin canopy above his head breaking it.

Water and the occasional weird animal call that is.

“Psst.”

Ugh.

Sam blinked, the moonlight mirroring on the slow moving waters a bright liquid silver, the ancient tiled street showing its true width now and then turned his head the other way to locate the source of the sound.

“Psst.”

What in Naossis silk socks?

Mathews stepped closer to the edge of the fast draining street, a hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Ye don’t wanna take a tumble there,” Jinx told him, her voice coming from above.

“Jinx?” Sam grunted and glanced at the roots of the mammoth sized Kapok tree over his right shoulder.

“Look up.”

Sam tipped his drenched head back, eyes searching the dark branches starting four meters above him.

“What are you doing?” He murmured.

“Staying dry?” Jinx taunted unseen in the shadows. “I like water. Bugs and mud not so much. Makes me hair look like shite.”

Sam felt water spilling out of his boots and grimaced, chilled to the bone.

“Where’s Maeriel?”

“The top,” Jinx giggled. “She’s likes taking charge.”

Right.

Something came down the moss covered, glistering trunk. It was the monkey, it paused for moment looking at Sam, then pointed a long hairy finger on him and started chuckling manically.

“Can your girlfriend see the slopes in this dark?” Sam asked scowling at the annoying animal.

“Yep.”

“Are the roads opened?” Sam wiped his face with a hand and reached for his left boot.

“Nope. The rain helped though,” Jinx replied, the branches creaking and raining down on him as she moved about. Sam sighed, emptied one boot, found a sock that had come off in the spillage and then went for the other, tossing the sodden sock away.

Nothing sucks more than wearing soaked footgear, he thought with a grimace. With dripping moldy socks.

“Speak for yerself,” he griped. “Any sign of anyone using the paths?”

“Nothing.”

“Yer awfully parsimonious with words all of a sudden Jinx,” Sam said.

“What if we don’t find them?”

Ah.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Sam reminded her. “We want to know what happened. They came this way, they should have followed the trotted path, whatever was left of it. The fact they didn’t, makes it ever stranger. A couple and a man leaving family behind them, slaves and freemen, up and decided in the middle of a festival to leave, rendezvous out in the jungle and then head ever south in a group.”

“Let it go Sam,” Jinx said.

“What’s at the Slopes?”

“Raised ground from the blast and beyond it the Scalding Sea,” Jinx replied with a sigh. “The Reefs after that.”

“Hooh, ooh, ah-ah!” Bobelo cackled and jumped on his shoulders, using Sam’s ears to stop himself from falling.

Sam tried to slap it away, but failed and the monkey jumped off him again and on the trunk very pleased. It showed him its teeth, tongue hanging out mockingly.

“Your monkey is very annoying girl.”

“He likes you,” Jinx murmured. “Yer a good man Sam. Not much of that around.”

-

Slopes (Knuckles’ Edge)

A week later

Jingo raised his head, short cut white hair looking like a patch of snow and pointed over the edge of the slope they were trekking, the overgrowth more sparse here, the ground cracked and torn at places. There was depth in those chasms, the earth splitting and dropping into a dark abyss underneath.

Caves, Maeriel had said. Filled with water.

Sam rushed the final meters grinding his teeth, the sun burning his forehead and his right foot hurting him where he’d lost all that skin removing the blisters the other day.

“The sea?” He grunted and Jingo nodded. Marlo following up behind him, breathing heavy was heard cursing, ever coming up with new stuff which each passing week.

“Blow me wit an oiled trumpet,” he glanced over the edge to the sandy beach below. “That’s a reverse bloody-climb and a fuckin’ half.”

“Maeriel went down the gorge,” Soren said cracking his jaw loudly. “Reckon we should as well.”

The giant Nord had a mouth full of camel’s teeth.

“How about the animals?” Marlo asked with a frown. “I don’t see ye fit in there easily big guy.”

Soren nodded deeply troubled as if hadn’t thought of that. “Damn, Maeriel is too small.”

“Eh,” Marlo grimaced not so sure about that, seeing as the Zilan female was taller than him.

“Elaniel, is it safe?” Sam asked the ranger standing at the entrance of the gorge leading a hundred meters down to the shore and she grinned.

“You can follow in my steps Sam Mathews.”

Her words ever ambiguous.

Right.

Sam breathed the salty air in and stretched his back standing up. He stared at the blue expanse for a moment and then reached for his spyglass.

“What do you think?” Cole asked him bringing up the horses with a tired-looking Hush.

“There’s land in the distance,” Sam rustled.

“Them islands?”

“Reefs. Black boulders sprouting out of the sea,” Sam said and lowered the spyglass.

“I don’t see them coming here mate,” Cole commented on what was obvious.

Maeriel, clad in her ranger’s dark green leather armor, long cobalt hair braided and gathered in a bun at the top of her head, was standing next to the water, light boots sunk in the soft white sand. Sam walked towards her, sword sheath clanging on chainmail and the Zilan’s long ears reacted to the sound briefly.

“This is the Third Finger,” Maeriel told him, without turning his way. “Oyster Anchorage gulf.”

“Ever been here afore?” Sam asked her, the warm breeze blowing on his face.

“Once, as a youngling.”

“Don’t see a port.”

“It’s across the gulf. To the east.”

Sam grimaced. “Any tracks?”

“No tracks.”

The adventurer stared at the waves washing on the barren shores, as far as his eyes could see, the raised land beyond the sandy beaches extending for miles.

“What’s in the east?” he rustled not looking at her.

“They would have to come here,” Maeriel told him and Sam heard the others coming down the narrow gorge behind them. “But they didn’t make it, or we are too late.”

“They had a boat to take them across?” Sam mocked her. “Knew it aforehand?”

“It’s your hypothesis,” Maeriel replied sternly.

“Aye and yer gut ‘feeling’, I’ve good memory,” the adventurer countered. “The road turned before the slopes, but we didn’t follow it.”

“Road to the Talons. What do you expect to find in the ruins?”

Sam pressed his lips tight, to keep from lashing out. “A plaguin’ port,” he spat. “Glen expected you to help me Maeriel.”

The ranger frowned. “I’m following Hardir’s orders to the letter.”

“Bah, yer lying,” Sam rumbled throwing his arms in the air very frustrated. “Don’t you care about those people?”

“I do. So does Hardir. We also tend to our own. You care about Jinx yes?” Maeriel asked him and Sam grunted having had enough.

“The beach leads to the other side of the Gulf,” he told her matter-of-factly. “I’m getting there wit or without you.”

He turned around and walked towards the approaching group of adventurers, Jinx leading them. The Gish stopped seeing him marching all fired up and asked with a glance at Maeriel that had stayed back near the waters.

“What happened?”

“We’re not stopping yet,” Sam rustled as he went past her. “Ye’ll get to see Gish Lament after all.”

Marlo pressed his tongue on the dental-bridge that had started bothering him, his eyes going from him to their guides.

“No sign of them?” he asked casually and spat down, with a grimace. “Romantic spot this, but lousy to unload stuff considerin’ the climb at the end of it.”

“We should have turned east and followed the road,” Sam said disappointed.

“Me late mother could’ve told ye that and she had cataract in both eyes. Been tellin’ ye, ‘em blue lasses are right cunts mate. What now, back up the gorge?”

Elaniel who was coming up with the horses to keep them calm in the claustrophobic descend, froze and stared at them hurt.

Oh shite.

“We can follow the shore to the other side of the gulf,” Sam offered quickly and Marlo nodded.

“What’s there?”

“A village of sorts,” Sam murmured looking at the young Zilan marching away frustrated.

“Expect trouble?” Marlo asked mistaking his worried expression.

Sam rubbed his face hard, his eyes smarting as the light breeze made that wet fine sand getting stuck everywhere and breathed out hard, afore replying honestly.

“Aye. But I’ve no plaguin’ notion of what kind.”

Marlo tapped the pommel of his sword.

“Don’t worry about us,” he rustled and Sam stilled his eyes on him frustrated.

“I trust Jinx wit me life and these Zilan has helped us since the start Marlo.”

“Well, it’s ye life and right, I reckon,” the experienced adventurer retorted. “But I don’t mate.”

-

Two days later,

West seaside approach to Port Mussel,

Gish Lament,

Imperial slave camp

There was so much salt mixed with fine sand gathered on his horse’s mane, the poor animal appeared a pale white in the moonlight. Everyone did, their clothes and armour covered, lips and eyes burning, mouth bitter. The wind twirled stronger now, bouncing off the sharp cut slant wall of earth and rocks on their left, ever coming and going. It sounded like animals howled at them unseen. The shades over the beach and the black waters unnerving.

“I’m tellin’ ya,” Cole griped behind him. “This thing ain’t natural.”

“Heard there were three volcanoes that went off,” Marlo told him hoarsely, rehashing the tales the Zilan were sprouting to visitors for coin in Goras’ taverns. “One in Goras, one in Elauthin and the biggest underneath Cydonia. Blew all this material across the water and made the slopes the way they’re now. Right girl?”

Elaniel hissed not wanting to talk to him. Sam had attempted to patch things up, but more time was needed and probably distance, as the two groups had been traveling together for a long time now. Everyone hates another’s guts after a while, he thought.

Or the bigotry was always there, just a bit faded now due to circumstances and calamity.

“They called it Knuckles Edge back then,” Hush whispered in her throaty manner.

“Aye, anyways after that happened and this fuckin’ wall of material was formed, nature started tearing it down, but it kinda made things worse,” Marlo continued. “It cut the beach out again and chewed through it a hundred meters deep, but hey… at least this part of it looks flatter.”

“Probably too far from the blast and the waves,” Cole said, Sam listening in to their conversation stooped on his horse, his eyes peeled on the approaching dark obstacles on the beach. At first he’d thought they were just large boulders that had tumbled down the slopes, but closing in Sam realized these were the foundations, or parts of ruined buildings.

Towers, walls and a flattop pyramid half-standing on the nearby gentle upland of what was apparently a classic horseshoe-shaped Zilan city.

There’s ye plaguin’ port.

“Get yer lightstone-torches out lads. Jingo, find us a spot to camp and wood for a fire. Hush ye help him,” Sam ordered seeing Maeriel standing atop a wall and waving at them that it was clear to enter the ruins of the ancient port.

It wasn’t.