Nocturna League (Episode 1: The Witching Book) (Nautical Fantasy Short Story)

Nocturna League: The Witching Book

By
Kell Inkston

Copyright 2015 by Kell Inkston

“The Oceans are wide and are as varied as the people who drift upon them. You will experience everything and meet everyone. Such is the nature of the ocean, that chaos incarnate. Seawater is, in essence, the very blood of adventurers.”

- unknown

Chapter 1: The Duel and The Introductions

“You ready this time, kid?” a hulking, grey-scaled shark man asks, wrapping his hands with athletic tape. A ragtag crowd cheers as they ready for “the daily whuppin’ ”, now a well-loved pastime of many upon the M.S. Nocturna.

A bruised young lady, covered with a different sort of bandages and opposite to him on the deck, is already to her feet. The slipping squeak of black sea-boots upon metal rings as she takes stance. “You won’t catch me off this time!” she says with a smirk, extending her hands to grapple through her long pea-coat.

There’s a silence as the shark man takes a deep breath, pulling the eldritch salt of the Eversea into his lungs. “Alright. On your guard, kid!”

In a blink, the two rush at one another and the crowd goes wild. The blond youth, about eighteen, slides right past the shark man’s giant frame. Before he can turn, the agile lass latches up his back fin, and puts him in a headlock.

“How about
this!
” She exclaims, squeezing the shark man’s dense neck with every fiber of her strength.

The shark man winces in surprise and then smiles. “Really, Colette?” He asks, raising a scaled brow and peering behind his shoulder with black eyes.

She doesn’t stop squeezing. “Really,
what
?”

Her opponent stretches out his arms, yawns and then, amidst the cheering and laugher of the crowd, falls flat on his back with Colette underneath.

“
Wh-What the hell?
Cheater!” She shouts as she fails to push the massive shark man off her.

He releases another mock yawn. “I dunno, kid. I just got real tired all of a sudden. Not sure if it’d be healthy to get up,” he says, winning agreements all around from the crowd.

Colette punches into her opponent a few seconds more, and then he gets up, freeing her from his boulder-like weight. She takes a moment to breathe, which is more than enough time for her enemy. He sweeps his leg from under her, tripping her and sending her back to the cold, salty deck.

“Looks like I win again!” The towering shark man guffaws as he crosses his arms. “You know, I really do admire your willingness to get trashed every day, but I think you should start with some easier opponents first,” he says with a shrug.

Colette brings herself back to her feet with half the vigor from last time. “Forget it, Dunks. I started hard because that’s the quickest way to improve.”

Dunklestein the Daring A.K.A. “Dunks” scoffs with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. “Sure, kid. Just keep in mind you could never choke me out the way you would a landy.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

Dunklestein points to his gills, and Colette draws back amidst the laughter of the crowd.

“Wait,
seriously?
Doesn’t that only wo-”

“Work in water?” Dunklestein interrupts, “Naw, that’s just a landy rumor. Seasorts are fish
and
man, so we can breathe in the air or in the drink.”

Colette nods, averting her gaze. She takes in every word, but she refuses to look like she’s valuing correction. “Alright, Dunks, cool.”

“Yeah,
cool
. Now you ready for another or are ya’ done?”

She takes a breath, and stretches her limbs. “Another!”

“Actually, I think that’s quite enough from you two,” a voice says, its owner descending the steps from the upper decks.

Everyone hushes up and most of the crowd disperses to either get to work or hide in their quarters. Audible are prompt, measured steps from black sea-boots, these ones a few sizes larger than Colette’s. Before Colette and Dunklestein stand The Captain, Commander of the M.S. Nocturna, and unofficial best captain ever.

“Now what all is this here? Explain why you’re engaging in this degenerate rapscalianry to distract the other sailors.” The tall, entirely bandaged figure asks as he fixes his round spectacles and navy captain’s hat.

Dunks smiles sheepishly as Colette sighs. “W-well, Captain. The boys and I just thought it’d be proper t’-”

“The gym’s way too small,” Colette says, cutting off Dunklestein.

Dunks cringes and The Captain looms over Colette. “Could it be that it’s too small, or is it that you simply want to impress everyone with your tomfolly?”

“No, it’s definitely too small, Cap. I need room to move or else Dunks’ll just run up and corner me.”

“Which is totally fair in a real fight, mind you,” Dunklestein says, definitely being helpful with that bit of information.

“Thanks,
Funks
,” Colette says at that relevant bit of information. “Now, as I was saying, it’s not like anyone’s actually busy except the chef and Gran, so like why shouldn’t we entertain them a bit? You should watch sometime Cap-I’ve gotten pretty fierce!”

“Yeah, Cap. She could almost deal with split ends,” Dunklestein says.

Colette jabs a fist into Dunklestein, who shrugs it off.

The Captain stares on a moment and then nods. “I see… You say you want more space to fight, and that it wouldn’t harm anyone at this time of day?” He asks, his voice a cross between a salted, calculating veteran and a warm, thoughtful grandfather.

“Yeah, exactly,” Colette says.

“Well too bad, Jobber Colette. You two hustling about in public eye encourages in-fighting, and I need our men thinking about their work. It’s not just the chef and his apprentice that are busy, you know.”

Colette sighs, shaking her head and shrugging. “You really are hopeless, Cap.”

The Captain leans forward. “Do you
really
want to fight that bad? I heard you say that you felt the harder the opponent, the greater the improvement. Perhaps instead of Dunklestein the Daring, you’d like to-”

Colette throws up her hands in horror. “N—
whoa!
Captain! Please!”

“Swab the upper decks, Miss Ketiere,” The Captain commands plainly.

Colette nods. “Right away, Cap.” Colette fires off a sour salute and trots off to the janitor’s equipment.

The two watch her leave, and Dunklestein winces in pain and cups the spot Colette punched him. “Gah-Cap, I know you told me I should be acting tough and all, but in the past couple days she’s been hittin’ like a damn whale. She’s so scrawny, but the way she ridges her punches… sometimes I get glimpses of you.”

The Captain nods. “She’s getting quite the competitive set of skills, don’t you think? I believe there’s hope for her winning her little wager with that overlord of hers… Really, I’m wondering if it’s time,” he says, watching Colette take up a bucket of soapy water with a cross look about her and starting up the stairs.

“Time for what, Captain?”

“I think it’s about time we had her mettle tested in a more threatening fashion. We’re almost to our destination, you know.”

Dunklestein’s dark eyes witness a small spark. “Oh? Yeah, I think she’s ready.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll be keeping us company on the landing party,” The Captain says with a nod.

Dunklestein nods back with a smirk, but then jolts. “Wh-wait,
I’m going too?
”

“You heard me. Now get your gear ready,” The Captain says, peering out to the mists ahead.

Chapter 2: The Captain and His Crew of Misfits Locate the Correct Island

An hour later the M.S. Nocturna glides across the reddened waters of a distant, exotic ocean far from her home port. At the helm, an entirely-bandaged figure in naval garb stands resolute, calm and authoritative as he overlooks a large island through his circular, misted glasses.

“We almost there, sir?” A half man-half fish sailor asks with a gurgle.

The Captain nods, glancing behind to address the seasort with his gaze. “That is correct, Swab-mate Gregory. Our destination is indeed the island ahead,” he says.

Gregory nods his scaly head. “Well, I mean are you
sure
, this time? This is the third island you said that about, sir.”

The Captain is quiet a moment. The seaspray frolics across the deck. “Tell me, just
who
is the captain of this vessel, Gregory Gallsway?”

The seasort sighs and returns to wiping down the deck. “You,
sir
.”

“That is correct, and how many times did our assistant navigator turn to his dark side when charting the course?”

Gregory sighs again, glancing at the statuesque captain. “Every time,
sir
.”

“And how many times did I…
Suddenly forget
about double checking the course?”

“…Also three times,
sir
.”

The Captain nods. “As such, now that we have thrown Mr. Masthaven in the brig for his traitorous decisions, and I have not had a regrettable lapse in the past week on the subject of navigation, we can as such assume that this island is the correct one, and that it also contains our mark.”

Gregory nods with his brows raised in tolerance to The Captain. “Sure thing,
sir.
”

A half-hour passes and the Nocturna is at the rim of the island, just five minutes away. Most of the sailors have lined up across the railing to look over their destination: Ketman’s Keep Island. It is a vast, verdant swamp island, its trees an impenetrable fortress from every direction but the single town on the island. Alien, feral sounds come from the swamp within, but when overlooking the sizable town there is nothing but laughter and joviality emanating from it.

“What’s ya’ think they celebratin’?” One seasort asks to his human friend.

“Could be anything,” he answers while scratching his dark chin, “maybe a holiday.”

A few Crew members exchange fanciful theories while The Captain, as mysterious and impenetrable as the swamp, approaches with his officer’s cap straight and in perfect condition.

“Gentlemen,” he nods to the large crowd men, fish men, and probably also fish. “Mademoiselles,” he nods again to two young ladies, one dressed as a cook, Grancis Vereyrty, and the other, an enthused Colette Ketiere, having just finished dawning expedition gear. He starts trotting to the side of the group. “As you all know, our charge for this mark is to find the ancient, supposedly magical book of the great witch Vuuya. It is said to grant wishes, and while we all have heard that one before-”

There’s a knowing guffaw shared between some of the sailors.

“-It is still our job to chase such wild dreams, and the O.E.L. will pay good money for it.
Very
good money; your paychecks for the next
three months
good money. And so though it is late in the day, I find no need not to initiate the expedition immediately and send our away team.”

Nods and agreements are given from a multitude.

“I have decided that this team will consist of myself as I am The Captain, Dunklestein the Daring should beasts or the locals prove to be a problem, Colette Ketiere for she desires experience in adventure and arms, and finally… Jim-”

An uproar overflows on the deck as concern and disapproval abounds.

“Gentlemen, please,” The Captain says quietly. The yelling continues and people bombard him with questions. The Captain cracks his knuckles, a sound that every sailor on the ship has been trained to be alert to, and the yelling quiets to a disgruntled muttering. “Very good. I have chosen Jim because he is among the best adventurers we have, and honestly I would rather him off the ship in the advent of his turning, especially on an empty moon, which is tonight-understand?”

While most of the crew is silent, some do nod their heads and generally agree.

“Very good, feel free to remain in port and go on shore leave as you see fit-Just remember if you hear the rifle, get the ship ready,” The Captain says, patting the strange, dark rifle strung around his back.

At that, an apologetic, confused Jim is let out of the brig, brought up to speed with the situation and joins the other three as they enter port and start down the boardwalk.

“Thanks for having me along, Captain. I thought this would be the last time you’d forgive me,” Jim, a slender, handsome man with shaggy, raven black hair says.

The Captain nods as Dunklestein scoffs. “Whatever dude. Just don’t pull that shit again,” Dunklestein, a sizable great white shark seasort says with a smirk across his wide, tooth-lined jaws.

“Now now, Dunklestein the Daring. There is no need for foul language in this outing party. A clean mouth is as a clean conscience, after all,” The Captain says, quickly receiving a sigh from Dunks.

“It’s like you’ve never heard the term ‘swearing like a sailor’, Captain.”