* * *
“Manners, Parcifal. Mind your manners. We’re in company, you know,” said Lernea and shifted slightly as she sat on the ship’s deck, mindful of the way the others, and especially Winceham, stared at her sister.
Her efforts to reprimand Parcifal were for naught; she still munched away blissfully even after everyone had filled their bellies thoroughly. She had gathered a small cornucopia in front of her, including a leg of smoked ham, a head of almost-gone-bad cheese and all sorts of sweetbreads and sour pancakes, along with a bulging fruit-basket and an amphora of sweet red wine. The ship’s galley had been recently stocked to the brim, as if in preparation for a long journey.
“It’s like a maw,” said Winceham with an equal amount of disgust and wonder. Theo looked puzzled.
“What is?”, asked the Woodkin.
“Her mouth, it reminds me of a maw. Look at her go at that ham like a shark,” replied Winceham. Ned shot him a grinning look:
“You should’ve seen how you dug in that salami and pork pie. I honestly thought you stopped breathing at some point.” Winceham counterpointed, waving a finger as he spoke:
“That’s an entirely different situation, being wounded and all. I need more than the regular amount of nourishment to nurse myself back into good health, that’s all.”
Ned sighed. He knew Winceham tended to be overprotective, mostly of himself:
“It’s just a slight burn, Wince. All you have to do is make sure you sleep on the other side, and you’ll be fine.”
“Halfuin skin is very sensitive; it could be months before I’m fit for action once more,” said Winceham, keeping a hand over his bandage at all times.
“Right. Do keep an eye though when the tower is in sight. We can’t trust him,” said Ned nodding at Culliper at the helm, and walked away towards the ship’s bow.
Winceham nodded and his gaze returned to the horizon. There was still nothing in sight that resembled Hobb’s Keep or Chuck’s Point, the northern cape’s ridge where the keep stood. Below the ship, which was an otherwise unassuming, common pirate sloop that could nonetheless literally fly, a hazy tapestry of green passed them by in tranquility. To port, one could barely make out Hobb’s Bay in the distance, while to starboard a sea of rolling jungle hills seemed to go on forever. And behind them, somewhere beyond the haze and the fog stood the remains of the woodkin village, where Fingammon prayed to Jah, waiting for his peoples’ safe return.
Theo kept a wary eye on Culliper who remained unequivocally silent, nursing the aching back of his head from time, shooting murderous stares at everyone once in a while. Everyone except Bo who stood watch high upon the mast. The bunny, for some reason known only to the two of them, made Culliper cringe and look away with a morose, even shameful expression.
Parcifal made it common knowledge that she felt full with a loud burp, followed by a goggle-eyed sharp inhale of air and the following statement:
“By Skrala, that felt better than a banquet at the palace.”
Lernea told her sister with a scowl:
“You eat like there’s no tomorrow.”
“What if there is none, sister?” she said as she pondered at the fruit-basket until she picked an apple that seemed to be maggot-free.
“Well, even if there is no tomorrow there is no point in living your last moments like an animal,” said Lernea. Parcifal replied with a relaxed smile.
“Oh, come on. This isn’t the palace grounds, sister. You can freely enjoy yourself.”
“Are you?” asked Lernea, and Parcifal replied without even pausing to blink:
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Well of course you should. I’m the one who has to bear our shame, first and foremost,” said Lernea, repressing a bitter smile.
“What kind of shame would that be?” asked Theo, who had left Culliper in the care of Bo. That roughly meant that Bo slept soundly while Culliper stood on the helm, rigid like stone, yet fretful like a virgin on her wedding night.
Lernea felt the woodkin was perhaps intruding, his question a bit too straightforward. Parcifal did not seem to share in that thought and said with a playful grin, her brow raised:
“My sister was Queen of Nomos for a day, when her dear new husband, King Jangdrival exiled her along with the surviving members of the family,” explained Parcifal and when Theo nodded with an uncertain frown she added with a smile full of irony: “That would be me.”
“There will be a better time for such talk, sister,” said Lernea with an awkward, parsimonious expression. Parcifal shrugged indifferently.
“Now’s a good a time as any. Who knows, there might not be a tomorrow,” she said and Theo asked with urgency:
“Why? Have you heard of any rumors?” It was evident in his voice that the thought of time stopping and perhaps the world ending unsettled him. Parcifal laughed, perceiving Theo was humoring her, while in fact, he was actually a bit worried the world could end.
“Hah! For some, tomorrow will never come. Especially those that meet us with the wrong intentions!” she said as she drank a mouthful of wine from the amphora. She wiped her mouth and offered everyone a smile that bristled with noble pride and healthy ambition.
“This isn’t a game, Parcifal. I’ve told you that so many times, and you still treat life and death like a game of dice, heedless of what lies ahead.”
“It is what I make of life, sister. Think of what Master Sisyphus used to say: ‘You cannot escape your own mortality; but your name can’.”
“‘..And both are vain.’ You always remember the half that suits you. Is that what you’re trying to do? Go down in history?” asked Lernea and stood up to face her sister with a good measure of disdain.
“What else can any mortal aspire to but become the stuff of legends?” exclaimed Parcifal with a gleeful voice, caring little about her sister’s disapproving look.
Lernea’s retort came slyly, her eyes squinting at her sister:
“Perhaps, like the legend of the pig princess?”
Parcifal threw away her half-eaten apple and protested, flailing an irate finger squarely at her sister’s face:
“Hey! You know full well the exertions of wielding shield and sword are demanding on the body!”
“Chuck’s point fore!” shouted Ned, giving pause to the sisters’ quarrel. Everyone turned their heads to have a look-see while the neck of the ridge kept growing taller. Even Mr. Jessums moved his dead-like stare a bit, still strapped down on the strange-looking contraption on the lower part of the deck that resembled a chair. Arguably, it was a most sinister chair that according to Culliper, sucked the life force of its occupant in order for the ship to fly. Winceham had called the premise ‘a hay bag full of excrement’ but his own personal experience of sitting on it caused him to squirm away at the sight of it the moment they managed to pull him off.
“There!” cried Winceham as he saw the base of the keep rise through a multi-layered fog. At the very tip of the cape, it was a huge oblong stone and brick construct, it’s wide walls situated to cover with their cannon and balistae both Hobb’s bay, as well as the ocean side. It rose formidably above the clouds. Ned waved everyone close and they huddled together in a rough circle:
“Alright, we’re almost there. We’ll land on top of the tower where there’s supposed to be an anchorage,” said Ned eying Culliper morbidly and went on: “Then Winceham and I will sneak down to the dungeons, release Theo’s people and arm them with anything we can muster. Theo will keep an eye on the ship and him. Then we load everyone up and sail away.”
Theo reiterated the steps with his fingers, albeit with some difficulty. Bo nudged him in the foot with his twitching nose, and Theo tucked him away promptly in his robes.
“And we are supposed to locate Hobb for you to kill?” asked Parcifal with a furrow on her brow. She had misunderstood the plan.
“Not exactly. You’ll be acting as a diversion so we can get by unchallenged,” said Ned, while Parcifal insisted:
“Do we, or do we not, find and kill that evildoer?”
Lernea stood silent by her side, while eying Ned with a calm yet demanding stare. He was indecisive for a moment; he sighed before telling them:
“Find him. But don’t kill him if there isn’t need to. If your life comes at risk, run. Leave without us.”
The sisters nodded in agreement and touched their weapons to their chests as a salute. Ned returned it, shaking both of their hands heartily.
“Without us?” asked Winceham incredulously. He was dumbfounded enough to be unable to find the words while his mouth opened and closed, when Ned reminded him sternly:
“Nadragatea, Wince. Until death, or dishonor, you’re binded,” pointed out Ned.
“Same thing were I come from, really,” said Winceham with a sigh filled with regret.
“Right. Take her up,” said Ned to Culliper coldly. He was surprised to hear Hobb’s glorified henchman smack back a snarky comment with mocking undertones:
“I live to obey, master. Oh, the overwhelming joy of riding the seas under your fruitful command. I’m glad I lived long enough to witness such a-”
His voice trailed off into a thud as Ned pistol-whipped him once more into meeting the deck head first. Ned caught the spinning wheel of the helm firmly before the ship began to list dangerously.
“Are you sure you can handle that?” asked Lernea with a knowing look. Ned replied with a sorrowful smile, seemingly out of place:
“You just pull when you want to go up, and push when you want to go down. There’s a pair of pedals for speed, too. In all other ways, it’s like the wind’s always astern.”
“You know what I mean,” she insisted.
“I don’t think I have it in me. I wish I could kill him back then, but now... I just want to help the woodkin. For now.”
“For now,” she repeated with a nod as Ned pulled back on the helm and the ship began to rise through the clouds.
“I think I’m feeling sick,” muttered Winceham under his breath as the ship tilted itself in an upwards angle. Parcifal asked him without a hint of irony:
“Are you sure you’re a not just a child where you come from?”
“I’m sorry for spoiling your dinner appetite, princess.”
“Was that meant as an insult?” asked Parcifal, furrowing her brow acutely.
“Bright too,” said Winceham with a pale face and Lernea interjected smartly:
“I fear discussing my sister’s eating habits will have to be postponed until after assaulting the pirates’ stronghold.”
It was then that the ship pulled out of the cloudscape, little wisps of cloud like smoke trailing her bow and hull, unwilling to let go for a moment. Around them, a vast sea of rosy, mellow clouds stretched in every direction, as the sun began to dive below the horizon.
Ned brought the hull to bear against the top of Hobb’s keep, growing closer with each passing moment. There seemed to be little activity going on; torches had not been lit yet.
“Won’t they know something’s wrong when they see us instead of Culliper and his men?” asked Theo, Bo fidgeting inside his robes, his bunny ears unable to be contained.
“Probably,” said Ned without turning to look.
“What do we do then?”
“Kill them,” said Parcifal with a grin.
“If it comes to that and they will not yield,” said Ned looking at Parcifal from under his eye.
“I see,” said Theo and flexed his fingers. Everyone else readied their weapons as well and hunched low to the sides of the ship. At the tower, an elevated wooden platform stood out, acting as a dock. It was supported on a wheeled scaffold which sported some kind of pulley arrangement. The whole dock seemed able to move, elevate and rotate with the help of some ropes and weights.
A lookout had seen the ship approach; he was standing on the platform scratching his head. He rearranged his hat and squinted his eyes. A scruffy-looking dog was barking non-stop.
“Ahoy there! What took yer so long? Why’s everyone shy? Jessums? Is Scubbs acting like the fool again? It ain’t no ghost ship this time, I can tell!” yelled the pirate and fell into a death-defying giggle that involved clearing up one’s lungs and nose cavities thoroughly. He spat a greenish globule, the color of grog and the consistency of glue. Even the dog cared enough to move, flee-bitten and ridden with lice as it was. No answer came and Ned simply let the ship slide effortlessly sideways, the platform grazing the hull slightly:
“Och! Watch the paint, you dumb rum-sacked lolly-gagging halakazoo!”
A rope seemed to shoot off itself down to the tower and Ned appeared suddenly and stepped on the platform, his crossbow in hand, aimed squarely at the pirate. Lernea followed suit and nocked an arrow in her bow, while Parcifal simply unsheathed Encelados. The pirate was superbly equipped to deal with the situation at hand.
“Oy, I yield,” he said in a flat monotone and raised his arms, while the dog beside him had a go at the goo that could possibly be some of the best stuff the pirate had ever produced.
“See? Simple enough. Theo, help me tie her down. Sisters, you go on ahead and make some noise.”
“Gladly,” replied Parcifal while Lernea eased her bow only slightly and followed her sister to an open staircase that led below.
Winceham felt it was high time he asked someone before everyone was caught up in doing something serious:
“Anyone with some flint and steel? Something to light my pipe, I’m dying out here!”
Seemingly out of nowhere, a burst of flame ignited the pipe in his hand thoroughly. Winceham turned around and saw Bo peeking out of Theo’s robes, grinning at him uncannily.