Captain Killian Vane III stood again on the deck of his ship, The Dusky Woman. The heave-ho movement of the hull against the waves, the noise of crewman scurrying about their tasks all around, the spray of the ocean saltwater… the pirate was home. This ship, and all the horizon ahead were his domain. Here alone a man can die happy.
But it wasn’t right. The bow struck another wave and Killian saw the water fall upon his face and hair… but there was no feeling to it. Only one damp spot upon his forehead. He shut his eyes and shook his head, hoping it was only a fleeting deception. When he opened his eyes again he could see the traitorous Bok-Bur-Na on deck: standing glowering at the very rim of Vane’s peripheral.
“You Marro scum. Ain’t no Valhallan pirates bereft of loyalty on my Dusky Woman back home. Git off my ship.”
Another wave and spray of water: another single drop on the pirate’s forehead. Bok-Bur-Na chortled, revealing again the detonator in his hand, “Get some rest, Captain…!”
“NO!” Killian lurched upright, drawing and firing his blunderbuss. But now he was in the waking world as the vision passed. All around him was darkness, the ship and sea vanished. The pistol remained unfired in his hand. The pirate groaned and wiped his forehead, finding tears of cavewater on his dirty palm. A dripping stalactite was no ocean.
He was buried. Memories replaced the dream: the battle at the tomb of Erland. Damned Valhallan wars nonsense—doing the bidding of a Valkyrie who couldn’t give less of a hoot about her subjects. Pirates fighting zombies and thralls, dying for the sake of the artifact buried there… and First Mate Bok-Bur-Na…
Killian spat. Revna’s pirates were steadfast as seagulls and loyal as vultures. But Utgar pirates were ten times as treacherous. The bomb had completely toppled the overhang Killian had been fighting under, and now he was entombed with Erland in the collapse. This was no way for a pirate to die.
Vane groped about the darkness, feeling only rubble and stone. The floor was smooth, but big whoop when all the walls were made of collapsed terrain. He’d fallen when the bomb had gone off: likely buried in one of the chambers hidden below. If the artifact they’d all come searching and killing for was here, he sure couldn’t find it.
“Damn.” Killian muttered, needing for light. He felt at his many pockets: spent ammo, junk, gold, scrap… At last he pawed his pipe, taking and lighting it. It was a kerkraft trinket, the pipe, glowing generously as he puffed on it. An orange light illuminated the chamber, and the smoke of his breath drifted upwards into the abyssal dark.
The collapse was on all sides: forming a vaguely triangular shape about fifteen feet across. Huge stones formed the walls, with gravel and rubble between them like mortar. Killian couldn’t see too far above, but the lack of even a crack of daylight up there wasn’t promising.
As he patrolled his tight confines, the pirate saw the half-buried crumpled form of his Marro First Mate. Killian muttered a single laugh, prodding Bok-Bur-Na’s body with his boot and spitting again, “Ha… Serves you right. Buried in yer own treachery.”
The corpse had no need for Erland’s artifact now. But there was another who did. Killian turned and startled back as a dark shape lunged from above. At first he reckoned it was a body falling from up top, but the blades in its hands were still held tight. He fell to the ground wrestling with the enemy.
Undead! Killian held the knives at bay, struggling and kicking at his opponent. The monster was too well-dressed to be a simple zombie or thrall: it could only be a lieutenant. Vampires were cursed and blasphemers, evil even by Vane’s standards.
The blades neared dangerously close to the pirate’s throat as the vampire pressed in close. Its fangs were bared in a vicious smile, “Still in the fighting spirit, human?”
Killian scowled back, “Damn you I am!” He bucked the fiend off and aimed his pistol quickly. BANG!!
The shot was deafening. The vampire screeched and reeled, clawing at its shredded robes. Killian was quick to reload. Last shot.
“Curse you, human! Filth!” The vampire shouted. Its back pressed to the wall and it slumped down. Its claws scraped the glimmering metal from his wound, “Silver…?”
“Can’t keep no track of the rules for all you creatures.” Killian aimed, “So I always put a little bit of everything into my bursts. Just in case.”
The monster stared down the barrel pointed its way, “Don’t shoot!”
“Don’t bite.”
The pirate kept his cool, though he had only told a half-truth. He only had so much silver to go around: the next shot might as well be a blank for the lack of it. But this creature didn’t have to know that. The vampire scowled, glancing Killian up and down. It frowned, thinking and musing to itself before speaking, “Where are we?”
“Underground.”
“Was collapsing the overhang some clumsy ploy of you pirates? Gears and chemicals seems to be the only way your frail little species can fight at all.”
Vane laughed grimly, gesturing to his deceased comrade, “You can thank my First Mate, Bok-Bur-Na, for that. He tried to take me down, an’ so here we are.”
The vampire’s form faded into the shadows as Vane’s pipelight waned, but its eyes remained gleaming in the dark. “So.” the fiend said flatly, “No way out. What are you waiting for, then? I am too injured to overpower you (at present), and you seem too spineless to slay me with your last shot there. I suppose we shall have to wait for rescue then, human. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Nicholas Esenwein: nephew to the almighty Count Cyprien. Excommunicated nephew yes, but still only his third least-favorite relative.”
Killian huffed unimpressed smoke, “An Esenwein, Nicholas? But still Valkrill scum. So you’re not in cahoots with the Utgarian Marro here?” It was the tiniest silver lining imaginable. “Name’s Killian Vane, captain of The Dusky Woman. Leader of Revna’s forces in this area and commander of the Exiles of the Sundered Sea.”
“Such accolades. You will make a fine Thrall.” Nicholas said, still smiling, “That dusty explosion of yours has left me parched, after all.”
Killian again lifted his pistol, “Don’t even think about it.”
The vampire smirked, “You’ve got to sleep sometime, future Thrall.”
“What’s a Thrall goin’ to help you with now anyway?”
“I could kick you for fun. Pass the time.”
Killian watched the vampire circle the edge of the light, constantly keeping his weapon leveled at the moving threat. He scowled, knowing he’d lose this game the moment his energy dwindled, “Now you listen here, monster. It’s true I can’t keep you at gunpoint forever. But what’s going to happen if my forces win the battle and dig us up? You gonna escape with my undead corpse there in plain sight? No. You could instead ransom my life for yours. Now we could fight to the death, but I’d sooner save my strength and ransom your life for mine if your army wins instead.”
Nicholas laughed loudly, “You sweetling! I think you overestimate the generosity of both our Generals! It’s wiser to gamble on our own side’s victory. I’d sooner risk that uncertainty and at least benefit from not having to share air with an enemy in this all too confined space!”
“You’re dead! You don’t breathe!”
“Fine. Notice such things.” Nicholas relented with a shrug. He drew one dagger and advanced, cutting a clear line into the ground with it, “You may insist on living for now, future Thrall, but while that remains the case do not cross this line. This is my half of the cave-in; do not sully it with your stinking presence. I’ll see even if you try in the dark. Stay there alive on your half, for as long as you wish. But know this: the longer we remain stuck down here, the longer you may want to consider saving your pistol shot for yourself. The living don’t deal well with time.”
Killian hunkered down in his own corner, keeping his eyes on the enemy. Dead Bok-Bur-Na got the third corner to himself. Vane didn’t want to admit it, but the vampire was probably right. If he weren’t right at this moment, he’d be right later. The pirate struck another match to his pipe, keeping the light going. Though even if he let it die out the total eclipsing darkness of the cave-in could not hide the uneasiness written on his face. They would come digging for him, wouldn’t they? His army, Revna’s army… the Knaves… were they true to him still, or had they been in on it with Bok-Bur-Na…?
Pirates ain’t meant to be buried in the earth. But then they ain’t meant to be buried on this planet either. Damn this war: give me back my ship, give me back my sea…
Fourteen matches remained to provide the pipe with light. Killian got little rest, waking more than once to Nicholas creeping too close to the edge of his line. Were it not for the wound already written on the vampire, Killian reckoned he would have been dined upon already. The foe was too injured to risk violence.
All throughout the following day (or so Vane figured), he toiled fruitlessly about the rubble-walls. No amount of smoking he’d done thus far had ever reached back down to choke their prison, making him suspect that the way above was fruitlessly high up. Better to try digging in his immediate area—if this smooth floor was a larger chamber within Erland’s tomb a way out might open itself up. Or so he hoped.
Nicholas possessed no such hopes. He remained slumped in his corner, watching Killian work without so much as lifting a finger for hours on end. Failure only seemed to amuse him, “It’s no use, future Thrall. The way is completely buried.”
Killian had dug handful after handful of dirt and pebbles out around the larger stones without success. He switched to trying to move one of the huge boulders, sweating and swearing as the rock refused to budge. He scowled over his shoulder, “Maybe if I had even a hint of help, vampire…!”
“There’s no point, human. I have to reserve what little energy I have left.”
“Sheet, useless monster…! Don’t vampires got super-strength?!”
“Not in the state I’m in… I cannot even hover… Woe!”
Killian sighed out a groan, “Huh! I’ve seen cabin boys with more guts! Hoity-toity vampire lord… admit it, yer just afraid to get yer nails dirty!”
“I would gladly dirty them in blood. Blood is life.” The vampire muttered, “I am so thirsty… So so thirsty. Are you still in the fighting spirit, human?”
“I am. So don’t try a thing.” Killian told him. He gestured to the falling droplets which continued to puddle from the stalactite above: their only given source of sustenance, “Have some water if you’re parched—oh wait, you placed it on my arbitrary half of the room.”
“I don’t drink water.” Nicholas said grumpily, “I drink things which drink water. It’s part of the curse of vampirism.”
“Oughtn’t have become a vampire then. If you was human we could be surviving this ordeal together all chummily.”
Nicholas scowled, all his mood for sarcasm seemingly evaporated with his thirst. His white hand pounded the stone floor, “I didn’t choose to be like this! Cyprien is the one who elected to turn, and in so doing turn the family forevermore. I was born this way. You wouldn’t get it—or you’ll only get it once you’re dead. You’ll understand soon enough.”
What a useless fellow to be imprisoned with. Killian huffed, “Bah. I’m doin’ just fine.”
“No you’re not. Given enough time and your hunger will incapacitate you too.” Nicholas bore his fangs, “If you could just lend me some blood while you still can…”
The pirate hoisted the pistol once more, letting that be his rebuttal. It kept the monster at bay still, though for how long that ploy would work Killian couldn’t guess. But it was true that his time was running out fast. If the soldiers above didn’t come digging… Perhaps dead Bok-Bur-Na was the only one in there who’d truly in a sense escaped.
Eight matches remained. More time had passed, although Nicholas still hadn’t finished Killian off in the dark. Didn’t make no difference, when all escape attempts had halted. By now the pirate lay on his side, barely able to keep the pipe glowing in his fatigue. He stared dead-eyed ahead, at nothing in particular, as his hunger continued to grow by the day.
“So unusually quiet. What’re you thinking, future Thrall?” Nicholas’ apathetic voice muttered to him from the shadows, “If I can’t have blood then why should you get to eat?”
“I only need to survive until they dig us up.” Killian’s voice was barely audible, “Just a little longer.”
“If that’s what you believe. I swear it must have been days by now. Face it: they don’t care.”
“They must. Don’t they want the artifact…?”
Nicholas crisp laughter echoed throughout the collapse, “Erland this, artifact that. Potato tomato. What makes you so certain of its importance?”
Killian closed his eyes and sighed, struggling to imagine an open horizon and clean ocean air. The sun… It was so hard to picture now, but he had to grasp those images still before the starving darkness smothered it out of him forever. He muttered his answer, “Erland’s glyph. Word is it can transport anything anywhere. The Generals want it for the war. They want it, but I need it.”
“Elaborate.”
“I got to get home, you see. I ain’t never gave a damn about Valhalla’s wars. I didn’t ask for this. So I volunteered to come here, to steal it fer myself an’ do what no Summoned ever did before: to get out. Or, so that was the plan, b’fore Bok-Bur-Na hatched a plan of his own…”
His fellow prisoner chortled, “Woe to the free spirit, pirate. The Valhallan trick is that there is no way out, same as Cyprien’s trick to all of us on Feylund. All the Generals might as well be in cahoots together against their own soldiers. The slavery is simply an alien concept to you, future Thrall. You still think to fight it.”
“You’re enslaved to the dark powers, vampire. What would a monster like you know of wants or loves or freedoms or horizons? You’ll never get it. I don’t know why I’m bothering to explain anything to you. Bah…!” Vane rolled over, staring desperately at what little the dying light showed. He glared at his First Mate’s corpse in the corner, “Just a bit longer… Just a bit… Is Marro edible?”
Nicholas laughed again, “Ha! You tried so hard to employ reason at first. Of course it’s inedible! I’d have sapped that body’s green blood while it was still fresh if it were. It’s highly toxic, as all things Marro so often are. Oughtn’t you have known that already, if you were supposed to be allies? Do you know a thing about Marro? Now I’m thinking I shouldn’t have told you I could see in the dark.”
Still the pirate stared glassy-eyed at the body, “Maybe… maybe if I drained the blood out. If I boiled the flesh somehow…”
“You’ll ruin your own blood, human. I can’t have that. You’re my only morsel.” The vampire slowly counted on his fingers: “I already need to make you last however many years…”
“Goddammit. I hate this planet! I’d have eaten a man by now, but the damn alien bastard traitor can’t even be cannibalized. One more knife in my back, I guess!” Killian shut his eyes tight, “We’re gonna die down here…”
For once Nicholas’ reply contained no jest, “Yes. Yes we are…”
Three matches remained. The toiling had long since ceased completely, and the talking had stopped not long after. The pirate and vampire remained motionless together in the black triangle, save only for the smoldering pipelight. If Killian let that light go out for good, he knew he would perish.
He could barely move, laying in motionless suffering as the hunger worsened more and more. The matches were dwindling. Vane knew exactly how many he had left, watching the dying embers of his current pipeload gradually wane, “This can’t be how my story ends, vampire. An’ yet it’s the only conclusion. I never wanted this war, this end.”
“Look at the bright side: you will in fact perish, being uncursed. I’ll be down here: too weak to move, perpetually starving, until someone unearths me. No matter how long that takes. Years, centuries… My conniving uncle couldn’t have asked for better.” Nicholas’ pale finger flicked one tiny rock after another across the room, “My Iskra will be slain or returned to Feylund long before I ever get out of this place…”
“What is that like yer pet or something?”
He heard the dull thud of Nicholas thumping the back of his head against the cave-in wall, “No, it is not in fact my pet, Killian! A person!”
Killian scoffed weakly, “Well I’ll be damned, vampire. Turns out there is one whole thing you do care about other than yerself.”
“The gods do not craft creatures who do not love, Killian.” The undead managed a smirk, “Even worthless pirate swine like yourself. You adore your—ah—your boat, I’m sure.”
The half-dead captain managed the same, “I do love my boat. I wanted to go down with that ship. I want her an’ me to be remembered and hated in the same breath.” He struggled to sit up, his vacant stare becoming a stubborn glare, “I can’t do that here.”
“Gods be good—are you still in the fighting spirit, human?”
“Yes sir, I’m afraid I am.”
Nicholas flopped onto his back again, “I should not have said anything to you. Any flicker of inspiration is like an initiative drug to you humans. I could’ve been picking bits of your boots out of my teeth by now.”
Killian snapped to attention, “Boots… yes, my boots!”
“You see, I—I said something again, and just like that—”
“You’re a genius, Nick. Fudge the Marro—leather is edible. I can shear it into strips an’ boil it in one of my pauldrons. That’s food and water right there.”
Nicholas rolled onto his side, “And what pray-tell are you going to do with your precious nutrients?”
“I’m gonna find a way out.”
The vampire rolled his eyes, “Everything is collapsed and blocked-off.”
“If I can’t go up then we’ll have to go down. The collapse opened this spot up, didn’t it? We fell in the explosion, didn’t we? There might just be more chambers under the hill.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Killian frowned, “Are you in or not?”
Nicholas returned the frown, said nothing, and then shrugged.
One match remained. Killian used his second-last to light a pinch of gunpowder under his tobacco case, then quickly used the dying matchstick to light a fresh pipe. He’d gathered as much droplet water as he could manage to collect, then placed it above the fire and waited. It made more smoke by no small amount, and the air was becoming increasingly untenable, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. After all, if this last-ditch effort to recover and escape didn’t pan out… well, almost better to choke on fumes than to starve. Or better yet, utilize that last shot.
Every bit of leather he possessed on his person was cut into strips and boiled. He ate as much as he could. It wasn’t much, but for a sailor who knew hunger many a times at sea, it was enough.
With strength came compromise. Needing Nicholas’ inhuman powers, Killian reluctantly offered forth one arm once he was well enough to again stand and walk. “Take only what you need.” he instructed, other hand near his pistol.
“Oh, you fool, inviting the vampire in! Very well.” Nicholas said. He advanced, crossing the faded line etched upon the floor. Killian let him approach. The vampire’s smile widened into sharp fangs, and Vane flinched and braced as he felt the teeth puncture his flesh. Blood drained and the pirate struggled to remain standing.
“Enough! Enough!” He barked furiously.
Nicholas drew back at once, smirking and wiping his lips. “Relax!” he said, hovering a few inches off the ground already, “It’s only a few wounds.”
“Whatever you say, monster.” Killian grumbled. He swept his foot across the ground, erasing the line which had been cut into it, “I’m feelin’ better, kind of. You’re feelin’ better. Now let’s place less focus on killin’ each other an’ more focus on actually getting out of here like we should’ve in the start.”
“Yes, yes, very well.” Nicholas agreed. His gaze fell to the floor, “Now if this is an underground chamber as you suggest, then we should clear the rocks here—not the ones above.”
“Yep. Together I’m sure we can lift one of these big stones. Now we just need to know which direction to dig…” Killian glanced around at the three walls of rubble surrounding him. They’d been slightly south of the hill when the explosion went off, but in the fall and darkness he’d lost track of which way south might’ve been. The pirate sighed smoke, then perked up again. Smoke. Smoke and smoke and smoke from that pipe all the while they’d been here, and it was only now beginning to waft in their lungs here. It couldn’t just be pooling at the very top above them, not if there really was a wider chamber around the collapse.
He rushed to one wall of wreckage and clutched his pipe, sucking in before breathing out. The thick gray smoke wafted between the rocks, but rolled back out. Killian moved to the next wall and then the next doing the same. This time the smoke didn’t return. He stood, “Here. This one’s our best bet.”
“You’d best be sure, future Thrall. You’ll give out before I do, but we’re both only running on second winds.”
“I’m sure. C’mon now.” The pair began by clearing out as much of the small debris around the main boulder as they could. Nearly all rubble scraped out was replaced by more dropping down from above, but a little progress was more than none. Once a serviceable amount of room had been cleared, Vane stepped and grasped as much of the rock’s right side as he could. He braced himself, knowing this would be a feat of strength he might not be prepared for, “Together, now…”
Nicholas grasped the left side, “Together. Heave!”
The vampire wasn’t exactly at his full super-strength, nor was Killian in any shape to put up a good fight. But double the leverage and pure desperation was on their side. Killian grit his teeth and closed his eyes, biting down hard on his pipe as the huge rock budged inch by inch, “Garn…! Don’t you quit! It’s moving…!”
“Don’t you think I know that? Now, roll!” Nicholas at least kept one eye open, watching the boulder be slowly slid aside, “I do see more floor! This is a larger chamber!”
At last the stone was cleared. The two dug and dug what dirt and rubble remained, desperate to be free of that damned triangle. The way held, protected beyond by a stone ceiling. They had truly fallen into Erland’s tomb, through the roof no thanks to Bok-Bur-Na’s treasonous explosion.
Killian huffed as much as he could to brighten the light in this dark place, squinting and struggling to see ahead in the pitch-dark. Even though he could barely stand, he again dared to hope, “Sheet, Nick. Do you think that glyph is really here? Might not even have to make it to the surface.”
The vampire scoffed, “But what will our armies think if we don’t come back? The loss, the mourning.”
“They’ll get over it.”
“Given the darkness, there’s a non-zero chance that the artifact represents our only way out of here still.” Nicholas faced him, “How many uses does this summoning glyph have, exactly?”
Vane dared not take another step forward into the dark. He frowned, glancing to his comrade. That pallid face was barely in the light, “To my understanding… jus’ one.”
It was quiet. It occurred to Killian despite it all that Nicholas still possessed his knives. And Vane still indeed possessed his one shot… though it had no silver… A single nonlethal burst against a vampire.
“Nick…” He said slowly, “I got to see that horizon again.”
“And I must see my Iskra, sir. They have horizons on Feylund, I assure you. And I want her more than anything…”
“Everyone wants. I need.”
In the firelight there was a glint of silver. The daggers. Killian scowled, not wanting for a fight in the first time in a long while. What choice did either of them have? He drew his blunderbuss and aimed, but was struck before he could fire. Vane fell and the weapon rolled from his hand. But when he opened his eyes he saw that Nicholas had also been struck down. His drawn daggers clattered into the dark.
The pirate had been blasted, not stabbed. He rasped and rolled onto his side, seeing a creeping skeletal form step into the light. The barrel of a violet pistol pointed down at Vane.
“You forget that I too need, Captain.” Bok-Bur-Na gloated, “I have my own debts to settle on Marr: more important than any boat or lovebird.”
“Gah!” Vane stared bewildered up at the Marro, “You?! You’re dead!”
“You never paid no mind to the abilities of anyone who isn’t also human, Captain.” The First Mate told him, “I can fake the part well enough, although I admit it made rolling my eyes at all your wishy-washy bonding a challenge. Making me wait days for one of you to kill the other, and then when you wouldn’t waiting for the two of you to open the way for me. Never could’ve done that by myself—I thank you for that at least.” He leveled his bioweapon, “Now if I may, you’re the one who was supposed to be dead back there!”
“I do know one thing about someone who ain’t human.” Killian corrected, “I know the vampire don’t need this.”
With that, the pirate grasped his pipe and snuffed out the light. He heard his First Mate bellow, “NO!!”, and saw the brief illumination of his pistol firing off. Flares of purple in the dark gave only the slightest glimpses of light, but it was enough to show that Nicholas was in fact no longer where he had laid after being initially shot. He was gone, vanished anywhere in the dark. And Killian knew he again possessed the stamina to fly.
Bok-Bur-Na backed up, firing randomly into the complete darkness. Vane meanwhile rolled over and clawed to find his own pistol. He snatched it up and aimed carefully, tracking the visible patches of purple light that was his First Mate shooting blindly.
The Marro’s fire was increasingly panicked, and he shouted into the eclipsing darkness for whoever was listening, “Don’t kill me! He’s going after the glyph while you focus on me! If you let him get away we’ll both be doomed! Stop him, not me!”
But Killian didn’t budge, and his patience was rewarded. Nicholas descended from above, grasping Bok-Bur-Na and holding him still. The vampire yelled loudly, “I’ve got him, Vane! Now!”
Killian struck his last match, saw his target immobilized, and fired without hesitation. BOOM!! Shrapnel shredded the Marro clear across the torso, and both he and Nicholas collapsed in a heap. The enemy was felled for good.
Still injured, Vane crawled over. He grasped and snapped Bok-Bur-Na’s neck to be extra-safe this time, then rolled the body off his comrade. Beneath he found Nicholas bleeding and full of fresh wounds from the shot’s penetration. But he was alive.
“You know.” Killian grumbled to him, “I nearly believed him when he said you was gunning for the glyph.”
Nicholas rasped for breath, “I thought the same, future Thrall. I also thought I’d be done for eating half of that pistol shot. You’re telling me this whole time…”
The pirate smirked, “Yup. No silver. You done been bluffed.”
Nicholas’ head rolled back, and he sighed loudly, “Get me out of this room, Killian. Take me to your planet and let me burn up in the sun at the very least.”
Vane pondered. He too was dripping with injury, not having much time to think things over. Still he reached a conclusion: “Well, you somehow haven’t died just yet. Tell me: are you still in the fighting spirit, Nicholas?”
The vampire sighed again, then nodded, “I… I think I am, human.”
Killian staggered to his feet, hoisting Nicholas up and supporting him as best he could. He led the limping way forward into the tomb’s darkness, “Then let’s find that glyph an’ get the hell out of here. You’re not dying today.”
“Where then are you taking us?”
“Somewhere safe, for starters.”
And with that, the two disappeared into the glyph chamber.
