Forsaken Dreamscape (Nevermor) (28 page)

Sliding
to a halt, he looked down into the black opening where the ground had caved,
but he was unable to see Wren or his brother.  He prepared himself, considering
the best place to jump down so that he could land safely, but he could see
nothing.

There’s
no debating.  The Vork is coming.  Just do it!

Before
he could act – and after he had decided that it would be a risk any way he
looked at it – Calico was upon him.

“They’re
gone!” she yelled at him, grabbing his arm to pull him back.  “We can’t worry
about them anymore; we have to keep moving!”

“I’m
not leaving without them!” Nix told her, shrugging her off heatedly.

“You
can’t be thinking of going down there,” she protested, but she must have seen the
determination in his eyes.

Nix
peered down into the darkness.

“I
have to,” he uttered, fists already clenched to brace himself.

“Are
you
mad
!” she screamed at him, gripping his arm again, but he had never
listened to her before, and he would not do it now.  Just as insistently, he
jerked away from her.

“Inconceivably,”
he said, his voice so sharp that it sliced her efficiently in half.  Pushing
Calico from his mind, Nix leapt forward and embraced the dark.

5

Biting
back anger, the lone huntress was left to consider her predicament.

This
hole, no doubt, led to deeper Vork tunnels that wove through the dark, possibly
without end.  She had no desire to go there; she knew if she did, she wouldn’t
come out.

And
yet…

Calico
knew her path.  She had come so far, dealt with so much, and she should not let
herself be separated from Wren – not until the girl had gone exactly where
Calico intended.

Peering
around her, she realized that she could not go on alone.  Wherever Wren went,
she had to follow.

Why
should I give up the dangerous path now?  He always said I would go out in a
blaze of stubborn irrationality
.

She
smiled a little at that thought, but it faded quickly as she prepared for what
she had to do.  Taking a deep breath, Calico jumped into the unknown after the
others.

1

Aboard
a weathered ship that drifted across the black sea, a crew of pirates did their
duty to keep the vessel afloat, but after so many months without the drink,
women, and carnage that had made their lives worth living, many had grown
impatient.

Though
it might have been guessed that the pirates were the only group to flourish in
this dark world, it was not so.  The nightmares had eventually become far too
much of a threat, and those who were able had retreated to the sea, leaving
only stragglers and weak men behind on the island.  They had weathered many
seasons on the water, half of them going mad and the rest becoming victims to
that madness.

This
was not the life that any of them had signed up for, and there was only one
thing that would set things right again.

The
vile seamen had never stopped awaiting the reemergence of their captain – their
commodore, their dark king.  The man known only as
the Scourge
had been
killed by the Rifter at the High Mountain, but death could not stop him.  It
never had before.  Yes, the Scourge would return to them.  He would instruct
them as to how they would take this world fully, and they would have all the
freedoms they desired.

The
magnificent Desdemona had gone down into the fiery pit with her captain those
years ago, but there were plenty of vessels to see to this war if only the
crews kept their conflicts under control.

On
a sister ship – the Bloody Mary – there was one such conflict.

The
captain of this particular vessel – commonly known as Madman Gunther – was lost
in thought as above, what was left of his crew was busy fighting amongst
themselves.  Not but a day before, word had reached them about what had
happened at Bleed Neck Bay.  A few survivors of the nightmare massacre had
rowed out toward the anchored ships, seeking refuge.  They were, of course,
turned away to the depths by bullets, but not before they’d told their story.

One
man, though he had admitted he was a bit out of his senses at the time, had
sworn that the fiery nightmare had been accompanied by a member of the Wolf
Pack – though he could not quite say which.  Hearing this, they all knew it
would not be long before the rebellion began – as it had been foretold – and
too many of the men were growing restless as they awaited the coming war.

They
wanted to act, and Gunther had feared that simply emerging from his cabin would
signal a mutiny, and yet he could not let the disagreements continue on.  He
had to put his foot down, or else he was likely not to have any crew left.

Resolving
himself, he rose up and left the cabin, stepping out into the daylight that he
had not seen in so many days.  The light burned his eyes, but he did not let
that stop him.  Nor did he let the sounds of heated arguments deter him.  The
captain raised his gun and fired into the air, the thundering sound of the shot
echoing over the waves.

The
crew was pulled to attention, forgetting their separate conflicts to focus on
their captain, but the truth was clear in their eyes: though he might have been
a man they had once feared, he was nothing in comparison to the one who came
without warning – the one who might dictate their movements.

“Listen
up, ye dogs,” Gunther growled, sounding as menacing as his mood.  “This has
gone on long enough, and I’ll not stand for it on
my
ship!”

There
were not so many men left now – perhaps a dozen – but there was hardly enough
food to support even those few, and Gunther could see the hunger in their eyes
now – that gnawing, constant ache that made men insane.

A
pirate leaning against the side of the cabin glared down at his captain,
showing little approval.  He was a tattoo-covered, monster of a man called
Nails, and he was, sadly, not a patient man.  Aided by drink, he was not quite
subdued by the presence of his leader.

“
Your
ship?” he questioned.  “Don’t be spewin’ thet shit.  Nothing is ours anymore. 
Everything belongs to the nightmares.”

Gunther
turned, peering up at Nails, refusing to show fear in the face of the larger
man.  Which one of them was more ruthless?  It was difficult to say.

“We’re
supposed to wait fer the Scourge?  An’ where is he then?” Nails asked.  “If we
keep waitin’ for him, we’ll never get back on the island!”

“I’ve
told ye,” Gunther said menacingly.  “We ‘ave to wait.  Ye’ve heard about what
happened at Bleed Neck.  If it’s true, it won’t be long now.”

“And
what do we care about the Scourge’s wishes?” hissed a skeletal, toothless
seadog named Raoul.  “It’s been years since we’ve seen ‘is fuckin’ face!”

Gunther
had known that it would be a risk to step into the middle of this, but he could
not back down now.

“And
do you want to be the first one that gets his guts ripped out by ‘im!” the
captain shouted, and that was sufficient to silence them for a moment.  “None
of ye are fools as to how this will play out if he finds out there’s been talk
of a mutiny.  Ye know what he promised as well as I do.  He will come back!”

“Promises,”
muttered Raoul. “That’s all we get!  Hollow promises!”

Some
of the men shouted their agreement.  The Scourge had promised them much in the
past – had even persuaded others in former days to give their lives to him
willingly – but it was so close now, how could they not stand to wait?

“We’re
all gettin’ sick o’ this, captain,” said Nails. “We ‘aven’t slept in days
thinking about our revenge, and we can’t wait anymore!”

Nails
gripped Gunther’s collar, lowering his face closer, his breath smelling of
tobacco and rum.  The captain raised his gun, set on killing the man without a
second thought, but Nails was quick to grab his arm, and the second shot went
off into the air like the first.

“I’m
through with this, and I’m through with you!  I’m taking over this ship, and
we’re going back to the island.  The Scourge be damned!”

“Aye!” 
The cry was near unanimous, and before Madman Gunther could summon up any of
the madness he was so well-known for, several of his own men moved in to take
hold of him.

They
stripped him of his weapons and valuables just as they’d stripped him of his
title.  They gagged and tied him, despite his attempt to protest.  He could do
nothing but watch, eyes wide, realizing that his choice to confront them was
the wrong one.

Nails
raised his sword and the rest of them cheered, reckless and bloodthirsty. 
Gunther was no fool.  He knew what was coming.  That blade was going to run
across his throat and he would be finished.  There, looking into their wild
expressions, he saw his own death.

Somehow,
beyond all the chaos and bloodlust, a few of the men were able to notice the
heavy thud of weight dropping down onto the deck near the railing.  The turn
was gradual, but the disturbance was eventually noticed by them all, and the
execution was postponed as their shouts fell silent.

A
thick presence raised the hairs on their necks, and they were led to notice the
dark man who had not been among them before.

He
was soaking wet, smelling of the sea as if he’d just crawled up out of it. 
Likely he had, just as the nightmares that came in with the waves.  A high collar
nearly touched the brim of a hat, and twisted tendrils of black hair reached
out from underneath.  His face was hidden by bandages, but a lone eye shone
through, burning with sinister fire.

He
was powerful-looking, tall and broad –
unmistakable
.  His appearance cut
into their hearts, and their laughter was immediately halted.  Very few among
them had ever been in the Scourge’s presence – the Madman himself included –
but they had all heard the tales.

He
can stop a man’s heart with his glare.  Everywhere he steps, the land dies.

“What’s
all the commotion out here?  How’s a man to think?” the Scourge asked in a
voice that was scratchy and low, yet black as ever before.  “Now you’ve woken
me up.  And I was so enjoying being
dead
.”

None
of the men uttered a word, looking up at their vision of fear beneath the
cloudy sky, stuck on the thump of his boots against the planks as he stepped
toward them.

“Things
seem a bit heated here,” the Scourge said.  He directed his eye at several of
them, and without fail, they all looked away.  “The lot of you weren’t speaking
of going back to the island by chance?  Not now – no, of course not – since the
end of days is so close at hand?”

Raoul
shook his head insistently, refusing to make eye contact.  “No – no, sir,
cap’n.”

“That
is good to know,” said the Scourge, a smile in his voice.  “I suppose it
wouldn’t do to kill you now, so close to the war.  I need all the heads I can
spare.”

He
peered around at the others, all of them refusing to look at him directly.  In
his own private darkness, the Scourge smiled.

Turning,
his eyes finally landed on Gunther, tied and gagged on his knees.

“And
what is this one’s crime?” he asked.

The
men said nothing.  To confess would be to give themselves away.

“I
don’t much care what you do with him,” the Scourge said with indifference.  “In
fact…”

He
gave no heed to the former captain’s muffled protests.  The Scourge raised his
foot and kicked Gunther in the chest, knocking him back over the railing and down
into the dark water below.

At
this, the crew laughed nervously, though not at all bothered by the thought of
the man’s slow drowning.  They only feared what might be done to them if they
drew too much attention to themselves.

The
Scourge looked over the crew one last time as a satisfying splash from below
reached his ears.

“The
time has nearly come,” he said in a commanding voice, “but just a while
longer.  We must wait for them all to come back together again and then – then!
– we strike them all at once.  I trust you have no problems with this.”

The
men aboard the Bloody Mary did not respond.

“Good. 
Then do make yourselves useful in the meantime.”

He
turned to go, taking his time as he turned his back on them.  The crew began to
sigh in relief as he passed, feeling once again the freedom to breathe calmly. 
It was almost over.  The Scourge walked to the door of the cabin, but a daring
voice called him back.

“Wait
a minute.”

At
that, the Scourge halted in his step.  Nails had called for his attention, the
only one brave enough to do so.  With little reverence, the vicious pirate
stepped up to the Scourge, staring into his glowing eye.

“How
do we know it’s really you?” Nails asked skeptically.  “The
Scourge
?”