Dead Men's Tales (Tales of the Brass Griffin Book 5) (30 page)

Dr. Llwellyn shook his head slightly, “a minor nuisance now at worst, Anthony. Nothing a good cuppa’, a bath and a proper clean change of clothes didn’t fix square away.” The doctor nodded in greeting to the two ship’s officers in the room seated at the table with Anthony. “Captain Clark, Lef’tenant, good seeing you both. I’m glad to report I’ve startling progress!”

“How’s your young charge? The young werewolf?” Lieutenant Johnson asked, concerned. “I’ve a daughter as well,” he added as an aside, “I’ve been worried as to her health ever since she was brought aboard, given her grayish-pale color.”

Thorias located a lone corner of the table not occupied by notes, charts or cups. He set his stack of notes down, careful to not lose one that threatened to slip to the floor. “Stable for now, though I may have identified the cause of her illness, or rather I should say poisoning. It’s related to what’s set Ian low, as well.”

Hunter frowned, “she mentioned being cut on the leg when I visited her. What precisely is that poison if it affects both her kind and Tonks?”

“This,” the doctor explained, pulling a small vial of yellowish liquid from an inner pocket of his waistcoat. He set the vial on the table.

Captain Clark picked up the vial, turning the liquid around in the electric arc light of the room. “This is more of that liquor recovered from those mutineers from the
Revenge
.”

“The Fomorians,” Hunter added.

“Quite a good assumption, but no,” Thorias replied. He glanced around for a chair, on failing to find one, he merely stood next to the table instead. “As near as I can determine, what the Fomorians carry is a cheap imitation, and a poor substitute, at best.” The doctor hurriedly searched his notes pulling out a small notebook and turning to a bookmarked page. “That, gentlemen, is this,” he said, tapping a finger on his notebook. “The ‘Hellgate Elixir’, and, I believe, the source – at least in part – of the Fomorian obsession. At the very least, the weaker formula is the source of their miraculous abilities and addiction.”

Lieutenant Johnson leaned forward onto the table, peering at the bottle with narrowed eyes. “So this isn’t addictive? Yet has the same properties?”

Thorias smiled, his voice taking on the tone of an eager university professor about to give a lecture. “Ah, one might think so. However, not true! This formula is based on my own translations from those Roman writings Captain Hunter recovered. I had deciphered much of the ingredients earlier but was missing something crucial: the foundation to the mix that spawned the reaction. Namely Liver of Sulfur and the deadly Helleborus Niger … the ‘Black Hellebore’ plant.”

Hunter frowned, “isn’t that plant poisonous? I remember nearly being poisoned by cup of tea tainted with a ‘Black Hellebore’ once.”

Thorias nodded, “Ah yes, your time with the Duchess. Well, yes, on its own it is poisonous. However, in times of antiquity it supposedly was used to cure
various forms of ailments, as well as being a means to ‘summon demons’. In particular, it was used as a weapon to poison the water supply of towns being invaded by the Greeks and possibly the Romans. This mixture does, indeed, grant miraculous abilities, along with delusions and madness.”

“A lethal mixture,” Hunter commented.

The doctor sadly shook his head. “Quite. It’s highly addictive, like an opiate, however excessive amounts – as what the Fomorians need to transform – eventually kills. Theoretically it would be only more dangerous if boiled.”

Captain Clark carefully set the vial down on table, slowly pushing it away from him. “Brilliant. What has this to do with their shipments to Inverness? Or the missing passengers from the
Fair
Winds
or missing people from Port Signal?”

The doctor shook his head, “that I cannot say.”

“How does this connect with what plagues Angela or Mr. Wilkerson?” Anthony asked, devouring every word Thorias was saying.

Dr. Llwellyn flipped through his notebook. “Ah, that’s where it becomes very interesting. The poison Angela received
is a diluted form of the weaker version. It seems her werewolf nature reacts differently to the toxin than the rest of us do. I’m not terribly surprised, as there’s much about werewolf physiology that modern science just does not know. That notwithstanding, while treating her for this poison, I gained some insight into how the elixir performs its nefarious work.” He gestured to another page in his notebook.

Clark shook his head, “I’ve no head for such, I’m sorry doctor, I’ll need it spelled out for me.”

The senior lieutenant nodded, “I think I understand, you’ve a treatment for the toxin, then?”

“Yes!” Dr. Llwellyn replied with an excited smile. “Indeed I do! You see Mr. Wilkerson was scratched in tussle with a Fomorian, and infected by some ichor the Fomorian was exuding as he was suffering a madness from lack of the elixir. Apparently in that form, it’s concentrated and quite contagious. However, with this treatment, Tonks has shown marked improvement. He should be up in a day or two. I wouldn’t say he’ll be ready for service. He was poisoned after all, but he’ll be free of any toxins.”

“What of the young girl, Angela?” Clark asked, concerned.

“I’ve applied a dosage to her, as well. Fortunately it was able to curb the effects on her,” Thorias replied. “I’m hopeful this will counter most of the effects of mild doses of the elixir.”

Hunter nodded, only half-listening. “Doctor, you said something a moment ago about boiling.”

Captain Clark and Lieutenant Johnson glanced at Anthony curiously. Dr. Llwellyn nodded, “yes, the Hellgate Elixir can be boiled. If my calculations are correct, the introduction of an appropriate amount of ethylene would produce a yellowish-brown gas smoke containing the worst corrosive properties of black hellebore, possibly killing anyone in its path.”

“A weapon,” Hunter said slowly as the cogs in his mind rapidly snapped into place, turning at high speed, “John made a claim of a weapon. Where is that sketch he made?” Immediately, the captain lunged for the stack of papers from John Clark’s satchel.

Captain Clark produced the partial hand-drawn technical design from a set of papers next to him. “Here. I remember seeing it earlier, though I couldn’t deduce if it was the
frame for an airship gas bag or some sort of bomb casing. There isn’t enough here to tell.”

“Captain, what are you on about, eh?” Lieutenant Johnson asked.

“John mentioned the Fomorians were making a weapon, and possibly something to carry it,” Captain Hunter explained, handing over the crude drawing to Lieutenant Johnson. “I had forgotten all about him saying that until just now.” Hunter tapped the drawing. “Lef’tenant, could this be not an airship or bomb, but a vessel – a metal canister – means to carry a gas?”

Lieutenant Johnson scrutinized the drawing. After a moment, he nodded slowly, “Quite indeed it could.”

“How much could it effect?” Hunter asked, leaning forward. “How large an area?”

“I couldn’t accurately say,” Dr. Llwellyn replied, startled at the implication of the question. “Hundreds … easily.”

“Heaven above,” Captain Clark said, sitting back on his chair in shock.

Anthony rubbed his eyes irritably, “I can’t believe I let this fall out of my mind. John mentioned a possible weapon being made. Given the number of people taken from the
Fair Winds
, the Fomorians would have on their hands a sizeable number for forced labor … and test subjects for the gas.”
 

A
deathly silence fell around the tiny cabin as Captain Hunter’s last comment sunk in. The four men looked uncomfortable, struggling with their own thoughts. Lieutenant Johnson shook his head and broke the silence.

“It’s preposterous, in my opinion,” the senior lieutenant declared sternly, “if that many people were being used as some sort of forced labor for building weapons and vehicles, it would be noticed."

“I agree, but the basic premise has some insane sense draped about it,” Captain Clark replied. “North of Inverness along the coast is rather desolate. One might not see another person, or habitation, for miles.” He frowned thoughtfully, “with some careful planning, it might be possible to create some hidden labor camp there even if the odds stand against it. Lef’tenant, do we have a chart here of that area?”

“No, Captain, didn’t need to bring one,” Johnson replied. “We’ve not had any sightings in that area.”

“Of course, that’s true,” Clark said with a thoughtful nod. “Have a man track one down, this has piqued my curiosity.”

The senior lieutenant hesitated a moment, then pushed back from the table. He stood with a quick salute. "Aye, Captain. I'll find it myself, and have it back here straight away."

"Good man," Clark replied, returning the salute.

“We thought much the same thing, that the kidnapped passengers would be here on the station,” Thorias interjected into Captain Clark's thoughts as Lieutenant Johnson briskly left, “but now,
I don’t believe anything of the kind. If they were here, the Fomorians would have to feed them, and someone would have noticed the amount of supplies needed for that many people."

Thomas Clark nodded thoughtfully, "unless they had no intention of feeding them."

"Forgive my morbidity," the doctor commented, "but in such a case, they would have to dispose of the bodies. Again, it would likely be noticed by someone."

Captain Clark sighed slightly, raising his eyebrows, staring off across the room as if in hopes the answer  would materialize out of the air. "Well put. Though two things perplex me: one is how they would - or did - transport those people off station?"

“The black crates,” Hunter explained, "it must be. Crude, yet very effective."

The young captain of the
Intrepid
glanced at both Thorias and Anthony in confusion. "Wait, what? Black crates, you say? What crates?"

“Mr. Tanner mentioned black crates aboard the
Revenge
, and that he heard faint voices around them. Crating the passengers would let them be moved about with no one the wiser," Hunter explain with a shrug. "As I understand it, those crates were kept apart on their own."

“It would explain how they were kept out sight, eh?” Thorias commented. "If Tanner heard them, another might have."

Hunter shook his head, leaning back in his chair, "not so. Mr. Tanner only heard them when he was on watch one night, and even then it was faint. However, if one pads a crate with some sort of insulation ... cotton wadding, cloth, straw ... it would likely muffle sounds."

"Ingenious deduction, and quite plausible," Captain Clark replied, soaking in the idea.

"Captain, you mentioned something else perplexed you?" Dr. Llwellyn asked curiously, sitting forward until the wound in his ribs shot a dull ache into him that made him wince.

The captain of the
Intrepid
glance at the doctor in surprise, "Ah yes, a slightly different tack, yet related, I assure you. Doctor, how can you be so certain this hellish formula you've concocted is what these pirates want? I'll quite readily admit, the potential lethality of the weapon cannot be denied, but if they were after the formula ... why so casually sell it in a antiquities shop?"

"The Roman scroll tubes and journals?" Dr. Llwellyn asked. "The Fomorians had not found it, or recognized it for what it was among the Roman's belongings. When one compares the potency of the formula they use with the one I based off the Roman formula, it's obvious they had not found it," he continued with a shrug, "otherwise, they would have used it. I'll admit, I was skeptical at first that the notes were real. The translations were ...troublesome due to age ... however, I had the dictation Angela's father left on the clockwork monkey as my guide."

At the mention of the clockwork monkey, Captain Clark's expression turned sour. "That thing. Here I was convinced it was just the girl's toy. Damnable thing has stolen my tea twice now. That menace ought to be caged."

The doctor chuckled, "while the monkey may be an irritant, it is a key to this entire mess. Young Miss Von Patterson’s father – Dr. James Von Patterson – dictated his discovery, as well as translated some of the ancient Roman writings into
the monkey servitor. Making this quite valuable to the Fomorians. They’ve been obsessively searching for it.”

“I see, which means they could easily overlook the originals if they believe a translated copy is within their reach, correct?” Thomas Clark asked.

“Quite,” Thorias replied with a nod. "Based on my observations of those in your brig, they crave it, much as those poor souls that frequent an opium house crave their drug of choice. It erodes their mind, until replenishing their supply of elixir dominates their thoughts. I'm convinced they would do anything for it, and take the simplest route to acquire more."

Hunter frowned, "captain, I've been hesitant to mention this - as I've had issue with believing it myself - but with regards to obsessions, have you heard of the threat on your life?"

Captain Clark nodded, "I'm quite aware already, thank you for your concern. The bloody bastards have tried twice now over the past few weeks, the second being much too close for my comfort."

Hunter sat forward in alarm, exchanging a glance with Dr. Llwellyn. It was Hunter who spoke first, "When was this?”

“The first was over a week ago,” Captain Clark explained with a mild shrug, “right after we nearly caught a Fomorian smuggler off Aberdeen. Second time was just before we received the distress signal from the
Fair Winds
when she was scuttled."

"How did they get aboard?" Thorias asked curiously.

Captain Clark's features turned dark like a thundercloud, "they were two of my own crew. Midshipmen, actually. They've been aboard for at least a year. Deplorable. They had promising careers until the moment they tried to murder me."

“Your father was kept somewhat obedient under the threat of harm coming to you, or anyone else John holds dear,” Anthony explained. “He was quite convinced your ship was, and is still well infiltrated.”

"Why kill Captain Clark though?" Thorias asked. "They would lose their hold over his father."