“How did you escape?”
“Not all Drurr are evil fucked-up bastards bent on slaving and torturing us lesser folk. There’s plenty of them ain’t like that, and they find some of the things the others do as deplorable as we do. I managed to find one of these sympathisers and convinced them to help me escape.”
“What about the other slaves?”
“What about them? This ain’t like the Black Thorn’s liberation of Solantis, Arbiter. I couldn’t just open a few cages and tell the slaves to fight for their freedom. I sneaked out as quietly as possible and never looked back.”
“What is it like underground?”
“Dark. They don’t use torches. Instead they mine these crystals and infuse them with some sort of magic that makes them glow. It’s a soft light, reaches a fair ways, but it’s far from bright. After a few years underground the sun is… blinding. And if you ever find yourself without one of those glowy crystals…” Drake paused and let out a bitter bark of laughter. “The darkness is complete, and there’s things down there that come out when it gets that dark. Things that whisper and click and purr.
“Folk are kept in pens, like sheep. They get let out when their services are needed, like mining. The trolls do the digging, but they ain’t exactly suited to delicate work, so the Drurr use slaves to mine the tunnels once they’re dug. They use slaves to collect the shrooms too. It’s pretty much all they eat, and there’s whole caverns dedicated to growing the rubbery things. Strange thing is, some of the shrooms have a glow all of their own, light up the cavern. The shroom caverns would probably be the safest place down there if not for the Choomar.”
“Choomar?”
“It’s a Drurr word. Doesn’t really have a translation, but the Choomar are… aggressive shrooms. They’re edible like the others, but the Drurr don’t eat them – they try to eradicate them. The Choomar look just like dark-root shrooms, almost exactly like, but they release spores that grow inside of a person and control them. Folk start acting strange when they’re infested. They walk and talk pretty much like normal, but they start doing odd things when they think no one’s watching. They gnaw on their own digits and scratch themselves bloody, like they got an itch that just won’t quit. Then they start to get violent. Only against the Drurr though. I never heard of a Choomar-infected slave attacking any of the others.
“I once saw one of the poor bastards leap at a passing patriarch, biting and clawing until a couple of guards pulled him away. They started beating on him, and he screamed bloody murder and then his head just popped.”
Beck glanced at Drake. His expression was deadly serious. She knew just how loose the pirate liked to play with the truth, but there were some things a person couldn’t fake, and reliving the horrors of his life underground seemed to be one of them for Drake.
“What about the Drurr,” she said. “How do they live?”
Drake smiled. “Like kings and queens. They build great caverns underground, hundreds of feet high, and their homes are built into the very walls all the way up to the roof. The matriarchs and patriarchs live the highest, and those in favour live close to them. The closer to the ground you are, the less important you are.
“Sometimes, while she slept, I used to stare out the window at the great cavern of Bolimar spread out below me. The little lights on the cavern floor where traders made their wares, the fighting pits where slaves were fed to trolls for the amusement of their owners. From up high it was beautiful.” He sighed. “Why the questions all of a sudden, Arbiter? You’ve been content without the answers for a good long while, yet now you’ve a pressing need to know.”
“I believe they’re here,” Beck said before she could stop herself. “The Inquisition has spies all over the world, and some have reported seeing a Drurr corsair sailing the waters of the isles.”
Drake’s jaw set, and he turned hostile eyes on Beck. “How long ago did you hear about this?”
“A few days,” she admitted.
“And you’re just telling me now.” He snorted. “Only one reason the bastards would come here.”
Drake launched to his feet and started walking down the beach. Beck gathered her dropped pistols and rushed after him. “Where are we going?” she said.
“To find them before they find me.”
Chapter 23 - Starry Dawn
Things were moving quickly for Elaina. It had been just one week since she’d arrived in Larkos, and one week since the traitorous cur, Rovel, had stolen her ship out from under her. In that week she’d met with four of the thirteen guilds.
Brother Hernhold was first. Elaina had no wish to become his ally if she could help it. The Cleric was as pious as his guild name, as was every single one of their order. They worshipped Pelsing, the golden god of the Five Kingdoms, and every aspect of their lives was given over to worship or earning gold, which happened to be one of the forms of worship.
Hernhold had extended a gracious offer to introduce Elaina to the Council of Thirteen as his very own honoured guest, and claimed he would back her bid for aid in the form of both ships and men. The problem with men who worshipped the golden god, as far as Elaina knew them, was that everything was a business transaction and they gave nothing away for free. She had no doubt the Clerics could, and would, help her, but they would extract a hefty price for that aid sometime in the future. If there was one thing life as a pirate had impressed upon Elaina, it was that it’s always best to take as much as possible without giving anything back.
Elaina’s second offer of help had come from the Nightborne. Their leader was Red, an Acanthian woman with fiery hair and not an ounce of fat on her. She was slim and no taller than Elaina, but she appeared to be made all from muscle, sinew, and bone. She talked in a distant, emotionless voice, and regarded Elaina in much the same way she imagined a dragon would regard a goat. Elaina had taken an instant dislike to the woman and the guild she represented.
The Nightborne were notorious for their questionable rituals, and Elaina had even heard rumours they drained the blood of the criminals they arrested to be served instead of wine at their banquets. The Nightborne had offered Elaina a deal very similar to the Clerics’, but also threw in deep connections to the Guild in Acanthia. It was a sweet deal, and no mistake. But despite their power and prestige, Elaina wanted nothing to do with the Acanthian Guild.
On the third day of her stay in Larkos the leader of the Red Hands came to her himself. Terk Ferrywold was a brute of a man who walked around topless, despite the chill, in order to show off his muscled, well-oiled chest. It wasn’t a fashion Elaina found attractive. The man appeared to be all bluster. He ordered drinks for the entire tavern and a hearty meal for himself and Elaina. She’d picked at the food while Terk stuffed as much meat down his throat as he was able, all while attempting to impress upon Elaina the importance and power of his guild.
The Red Hands ran the Moon district, a large and wealthy housing area just west of central, and they were no doubt both rich and powerful, but Elaina didn’t agree with their leader’s need to shout about the impressiveness of his own guild. Terk had offered Elaina ships and men, and the God Emperor of Sarth’s head upon a pike. He’d also suggested that he and Elaina seal their deal amidst the silken sheets of his bed. Elaina had resisted the urge to beat him senseless with her tankard and agreed to think about his proposal. In truth she would rather have sided with the pious Clerics.