Growing Up Poor
Tradesfolk like the blacksmith, Hrothfeond Evermorn, weren’t supposed to have pendants like this. But then again, not every poor person came from a line like the Evermorns.
Hrothfeond, whom everyone called Fe, was the youngest of a long line. His father, Hrothleong, had been a blacksmith, like his father and his father’s father before him. But not all Evermorns had been soot-stained labourers of fire and ore; somewhere far back in his family’s line, one Evermorn had been someone of importance. A great man.
Maybe they’d been noble. Royal, even.
That forebear must have had people yield to his command just as Fe’s hammer, his father’s hammer, and his father’s father’s hammer did each day.
Who else would have possessed a pendant of power—the very same that Fe now wore around his neck?
No one knew exactly what, but something had happened to sunder the line of Evermorns, something dark and disastrous. It must have been an event that changed the trajectory of a family’s history forever. Something that caused the beautiful pendant of power to be known instead as the “Dread Bite,” and had caused it to be imbued with a mysterious and tragic sort of magic.
After working as a smith for over twenty years and apprenticing for five before that, Fe was sick of living in Schlel. He was ready for adventure. He wanted to travel beyond the realm of lel Kúbklor, to see new sights and to have the experiences he’d only read of in books.
Fe made a vow to himself on that otherwise unremarkable night—he would take the first boat out to sea that would give him passage.
The Night at the Viper Tavern
One night, Fe went to the Viper Tavern, named after a local crypt not far from the city walls. Fe had his usual: a strong ale with a dram of lel Kúbklor’s famous cactus Hardguzzle.
Fe knew that crews often visited the Viper Tavern prior to a long voyage as there was a departing tradition for the men to get good and drunk before they hit the open water on the way to the passages through the Tides of Tears, through the Sea of Hermits and on to the rollicking Dommian Ocean.
It seemed that the luck of that great, long-lost ancestor was with Fe that night. Not only did he find a crew ready to set sail the next day, but he also overheard the captain and his first mate deep in conversation, concerned that their blacksmith had fallen ill. They were worried that the voyage would have to be delayed.
“You know that now is our only chance.” The captain sighed.
“We are three months from the winds of the North blowing in and it’s more than a two-month journey. We don’t even know where The Maelstrom is located. As soon as the air has just a bit of a chill, the creature will go dormant, and the island will become submerged.”
“Where are we going to find a smith who can forge cold iron so quickly? It’s a lost art and we are losing time,” the first mate replied. “Face it, Cap’n. This voyage is going to have to wait for another day. Thou may want to quest, but Odin has other ideas. Heed his advice.”
Fe heard everything. He knew he had his chance—but maybe the gods had made the ship’s smith ill so the boat would not set sail? Or was it so that Fe could seize this moment and leave?
Fe had never been one to give his opinions on metaphysical matters, but he had to make a choice. He decided that it was the latter and sidled up to the captain’s table to make his case.
“I can work cold iron to be the sharpest blade or the strongest greaves,” Fe opened, finding his courage after a swig of Hardguzzle. “If your mission needs a blacksmith, then look no further than the person who sits in front of you here. I’m ready to leave Schlel as soon as I can find passage.”
“Aye, man! And how do we know you can work cold iron like you say? Plenty of people claim to have skills to get out of this pitiful city but they are all as worthless as a wooden shield when battling a fire breathing dragon,” the first mate said with a sneer, spitting on the ground.
Fe pounced, grabbed the first mate and placed him in a headlock, putting a knife to his throat.
“You tell me if this knife is sharp enough, for it was forged from my own hands,” Fe snarled.
He nicked the man’s skin and threw him to the ground.
“All right, you’re in,” the captain spoke, putting an end to the theatrics. “But you need to know what you’re getting into. This is no ordinary seafaring journey where we blithely transfer commodities from one port to another. This is an expedition into the heart of the Dommian Ocean, to a place feared by even the most tenured sailor.”
Fe retook his seat, training his gaze on the captain to prove he was paying attention.
“We are going to The Maelstrom,” the captain continued. “It’s a place that many don’t believe exists, but that I’m confident I will find. The legend of this forgotten place has been passed down through my family for ages.”
The captain then explained to Fe the legend behind his quest: years ago, a dark mage of power had ventured into the open sea in search of a monstrous creature that he believed he could tame with his sorcery. The mage felt that once this monster was in his control, he would be able to rule all realms as an unstoppable force that no one would dare challenge.
It’s said the mage set off with only one deck hand to help with the sails. The pair travelled day and night in search of the mythical beast and would only return to port after several weeks where they’d resupply and set sail again the next morning.
The story goes that the mage eventually found the creature, but it was far more powerful than he could have imagined.
The beast created an incredible whirlpool—one that slowly unearthed an island as the rushing waters spun faster and faster. Suddenly, and at speed, the beast rose out of the water, smashing the small ship with its enormous tentacles.
The mage was sucked into the centre of The Maelstrom towards the island while the deck hand was cast outside of the wake, exhausted and clutching to a few boards. Massive waves then clapped together from the perimeter of the whirlpool, submerging the island once again in a wall of water and drowning the dark wizard.
The deck hand miraculously survived the horror, floating through the ocean on some of the wreckage before eventually washing ashore in Guz-Metmas in the Kezgep-Mas realm. He told the epic tale to everyone who would listen, even if it was mostly only tavern keepers who would lend him an ear. None believed him at first, but over time, ships began disappearing in the middle of the Dommian Ocean, especially at this time of year. It was believed that the beast was most active now, before the cold winds of the North blew in.
“We aim to prove the legend true, and to recover all the treasures from the sunken ships, along with any items once possessed by the dark mage,” the captain finished. “We believe that the beast hates the cold, which is why we need a smith who can work cold iron. If you’re up to the task, I’m ready to take you aboard.”
Fe thought the captain’s story was nothing more than fantasy, little more than sun-bleached lore that sailors told to keep their minds off the drudgery. But what did Fe care? This yarn was his ticket away from Schlel—he’d let them believe whatever they wanted if it got him on a boat.
After pretending to deeply consider the circumstances, Fe ultimately nodded his head in agreement.
Fe was flush with excitement, drunk on beer and his good luck, concerned not for the danger that was ahead of him.
The Journey Begins
The crew embarked for The Maelstrom, leaving Schlel early the next morning. Even though Fe was green when it came to sailing, his position as the ship’s smith earned him a place in the officer’s quarters and the luxury of having only one roommate, instead of fifteen. He had his own shop to work in and got to eat in the mess hall before the rest of the men.
But the fact remained that he was a terrible sailor. He didn’t have any practical seafaring experience, which made him loathed by many in the crew. While he found nothing in common with the elites, Fe could feel the daggers of the crew’s eyes as he ate.
Let them stare, he thought, for if The Maelstrom actually exists, which it certainly does not, my weapons will be their salvation.
To combat the inevitable loneliness of the sea, Fe immersed himself in his work. Truly, no one had seen anything like him before—the sound of hammers banging rang out from his shop at all hours of day and night. Slowly the crew’s disdain gave way to admiration for the quality of arms he was producing.
But as he continued to make spear after spear to alleviate his boredom, the men’s feeling of awe became one of fear as they began to wonder, “What kind of monster are we to battle at The Maelstrom that would need this kind of armoury? What fate awaits us in the open sea?”
Everything Goes Wrong
The crew had been at sea for just over three months and the air was beginning to crisp. The captain thought that the journey was sure to be a bust; he had already begun working on what he’d say to the lords who had invested in this venture. They would be disappointed that he would return home empty-handed, but they’d known the chances of success were minuscule. Surely these men of means would understand.
The captain didn’t know very many wealthy men.
All the sudden, a call came down from the crow’s nest, “I see somethin’! I see somethin’! O’er there! The ocean is swirling like I have ne’er seen before. Aye, Cap’n, the water is churnin’ like nothin’ else! O’er there! Starboard! Look!”
The captain scrambled to the deck, climbed up into a bird’s nest atop the main mast and looked out in the distance. And given the sight before him…what else but the Maelstrom could it be? The beast, then, was near.
He went into his quarters and prepared for the monster, donning his armour, breastplate, gloves and demon-hide belt, which was the strongest material for battle known to the realms. The items had been in his family for ages, and putting them on gave him courage in facing whatever horror lurked beneath the churning surface before him. At a minimum, he thought that he looked the part of an adventurer, though he felt a chill that went down to his very marrow.
At the last moment, he took off a glove and slipped on a titanium ring, a gift from the father of his bride. For good luck, he thought as he walked out of his quarters. And we will certainly need it.
He then addressed the crew. “Men, what lies beneath these waters is the most dangerous beast any of us have ever seen or imagined. But this is why you are all here! You claimed you wanted adventure? You claimed to want verses sung of you throughout the ages? You claimed you wanted treasure?”
The crew roared in approval, feeling their fear begin to dissipate.
“Aye men, then your day has come! Grab the spears and load the cannons, for it is time we kill this Kraken of the sea! It is time to show the beast that no crew from the Order of Power fears it! Take your stations!”
While the men scrambled, fighting with the unpredictable winds of the Maelstrom’s churn, Fe could only stand there in shock. While he certainly had wanted adventure far away from his monotonous hometown, he had also wanted to live a full life. Seeing this great whirlpool form in the distance, he sensed disaster before him and felt a pang of regret in leaving his friendly confines.
But then again . . . had that life of boredom been one worth living? No, he reminded himself, tucking the ancient pendant under his shirt and grabbing a spear. He would go down fighting with the weapons he had forged.
As the ship approached The Maelstrom, Fe saw the fabled island at the centre of the whirlpool. It was rocky and sharp, as if it had had to fight to emerge from the sea floor. The shores were littered with wreckage of ships that had fallen to the strength of the kraken, smashed on the side of the stone face. The waters continued to churn, exposing the island further and showing even more destruction than Fe first glimpsed.
But where was the beast?
Fe tried imagining it—the size of a monster that could churn the Dommian’s open water like a bathtub. Just then, a tentacle far larger than even he’d feared emerged from the edge of the whirl.
For a moment, all the men froze, gazing up to the sky at the writhing limb that seemed to have originated in the deepest depths of the underworld.
Regaining his composure, the captain steadied his crew and told them to take aim; on his command, the cannons thundered and the men flung spears at the beast.
The kraken’s howl was shrill and guttural, shaking moon and sky and sea across the cloudless night. The captain had been correct in hoping the cold iron would cause great harm to the beast.
Feeling more emboldened than afraid, he was screaming to his men to ready the next assault when he eyed a small, wrecked ship constructed in an ancient style on the one side of the Maelstrom’s island. At once, he knew it must be the boat of the dark mage from long ago.
“Fe! Grab some spears and the stoutest longsword you’ve made. You wanted adventure? Come with me,” the captain howled at the blacksmith. “We’re boarding that raft and retrieving the ghost wand from the isle over there.”
“You’re mad!” shouted Fe. “What spell are you under?! There’s no way we can get past the Kraken and even if we do, how will we return?”
“We don’t stand a chance fighting it this way, but the crew may buy us enough time to retrieve the ghost wand. My father taught me a spell should I ever recover the weapon. This is our only hope,” the captain said with desperation in his voice. “I need another man to help me row this raft and you’re the strongest one I’ve come across. Come with me.”
Fe did as he was told, and he and the captain boarded the raft as the captain relayed his plans to his first mate.
Another tentacle rose into the air; this time, the captain’s right-hand man gave the order for the canons to attack.
The pair pushed the oars and paddled against the raging currents of the whirlpool, their strength and determination driving them onward.
As they failed to gain any ground, the captain shouted above the roar of the whirlpool, “Use your oars to follow the current and hug the lip of the vortex!”
Fe nodded and the two began to row in the same direction as the current. With each stroke, they were able to make progress, slowly inching towards the island. The captain shouted directions as they went, and soon they were able to make their way to the edge of the storm.
As they moved closer to the island, the waves grew more fierce, threatening to capsize the raft. But the two held fast, their oars biting into the water and propelling them towards the island. With the vessel hugging the edge, the current began to carry them down, down, downward, rapidly taking them towards their destination. Seemingly at random, an arm of the kraken emerged from the water and crashed down beside them, but again and again would miraculously miss its target. The two held fast to their oars amid the chaos, pressing on and pushing through the chaos.
Finally, the pair made it safely to the island, crashing the raft onto the Eastern shore, with only a few weapons lost in the struggle. Time was not on their side, however; the captain estimated he’d heard six rounds of cannon fire and knew there were only enough munitions for three—maybe four—more rounds.
But there, beside their downed raft, was the dark mage’s wreck. Ancient runes in faded fabric were scrawled on a tattered and worn sail.
“Seek out a wand and give it to me as soon as you do!” the captain shouted. “We are running out of time, Fe!”
“Wait! Before we begin our search, tell me the incantation in case you fall. You’ve come too far to let that secret go with you in death,” Fe hollered. “I’ve proven a faithful hand. I deserve to know it should I find the wand and cannot find you!”
The captain realized that Fe was right and trusted the man; he had proved himself loyal and there was no reason not to withhold the spell from him.
He shouted the strange words to Fe:
“Nal duin sïlan sin elenya, elenya doloros ada ú!”
Above them, the air shook with another round of cannon fire. The captain knew there was just one round left before his men would be out of ammunition and the creature from the depths would smash the ship to pieces. If he wanted to save his crew, he would have to find the wand. It was their only chance. The captain was panicked as he searched the wreckage, but nothing was to be found.
Fe, though, felt a surreal sense of calm. The pendant around his neck seemed to soothe him, while at the same time urging him to go down into the depths of the wreck. He went, not questioning the odd feeling—when suddenly he spotted a chest with a broken lock. Fe pried open the box and, mixed in among the sunken shekels, were a hood, slippers and a gnarled wand unlike any he had ever seen.
The ghost wand of the dark mage.
“Captain, come quick! I found it!”
Fe heard the quick steps of the captain above—but as he descended the stairs, his foot went through a rotten plank. He twisted his ankle and fell, hitting his head on the wreckage below.
Fe ran to him just as another large explosion sounded from above. But this sound was not quite as powerful as the last, meaning that the ship was out of cannon fodder. But he couldn’t leave the captain knocked out at the bottom of this long-lost ship’s hull.
Gathering the mage’s items from the chest but leaving all the coins, Fe began to pull the captain up the stairs, struggling with every step. He knew he must cast the spell if the crew were to live, but doing so now would be certain doom for the two of them. Fe had to get to high water so that they wouldn’t be submerged when The Maelstrom subsided.
Time was running out. There was no longer the rumble of the cannons; in fact, there was an eerie sense of quiet over the ocean, as the churning water began to slow and the sea level on the island began to rise.
The kraken rose from the sea, not just a tentacle, but the entire monster. It was a thing of nightmares and a behemoth of the deep. Its body was an unearthly black with tentacles that writhed like serpents. Its eyes glowed a sickly yellow and its mouth was lined with razor sharp teeth. The kraken’s massive size dwarfed the island at the centre of the Maelstom and its presence caused the sea to churn with a maddening intensity. Waves were now crashing against the rocky shoreline with a violence that seemed almost alive.
The beast’s tentacles were longer than any ship, stretching out from its body like long, grasping fingers. Its skin was thick and leathery, and it had a strange, almost iridescent sheen to it, as if it had been formed from the depths of the dark, demonic underworld. Its body seemed to ripple with an unnatural power, and the air around it was filled with a strange, otherworldly energy.
The creature opened its mouth and erupted with an unearthly roar. The sound was so powerful it caused Fe to freeze, his courage wavering in the face of such an ancient and powerful beast. The kraken’s tentacles lashed out at the ship, tearing into its hull and shaking its masts in its fury.
Even though he was not high enough, Fe knew that this was the moment he must act, or the crew would be doomed. With his left hand, he clutched the Dread Bite pendant and with his right hand, then pointed the ghost wand at the kraken, shouting the spell with every fibre of his soul. A blinding flash consumed the sky along with a thunder of 10,000 war drums.
The captain’s spell was powerful. A magical force that shook the land and sea and paralyzed the beast. The ghost wand glowed brightly as Fe moved it in a circular motion, conjuring a powerful force that caused the kraken to writhe in pain. The kraken’s curse, which had kept the island submerged, began to unravel as the spell tore through its dark power. Its tentacles went slack, and the maelstrom receded further, allowing the island to rise completely to the surface.
With its last breath, the kraken released a powerful shockwave that surged through the ocean and permanently reversed the dark curse, ensuring the island was no longer prisoner to the depths of the sea. The kraken had been vanquished and its dark magic had been shattered, leaving behind only the creature’s floating remains.
For Fe, everything went black.
The Adventurer Rises
Fe didn’t know how long he was knocked out for, but from the stubble on his face when he awoke, he knew it had to be several days. When he came to, everything ached, but he was relatively unharmed. Around his neck was the Dread Bite and next to him were the ghost wand, the hood. the slippers and the captain, still and without breath.
Looking around, he could see no traces of the beast nor that of the ship. Grief washed over Fe as he realized at once that he was alone, marooned on the island. Tears of anguish swelled inside him, but Fe blinked them away. There was sad work yet to do and the grief would still be there at its end.
The captain had been a good man. As was the custom of his people, Fe prepared the body to be burned on a funeral pyre.
“Odin, allow me the strength to mourn once more,” he prayed. Fe removed the demonhide gear from the captain and dressed himself in them. “If I shall find his family, I will return these,” Fe swore. “Until then, may they help me survive.”
Fe looked at the hood and slippers he’d salvaged and knew they were powerful totems. Rather than carry them, he thought he might gain more strength by putting them on. He took the ghost wand and could feel its power coursing through his body—it was as if he had been destined to hold it.
Fe felt an ease with the magical weapon. The Dread Bite whispered to him, and then he knew the spell to ignite the pyre.
Hunching to pick up the captain, Fe caught glimpse of the ring and removed it. “This too will go to his family,” Fe said aloud, placing it on his finger.
As he amassed the totems, he began to wonder . . . would he truly return them? Did he believe that?
As the smoke rose into the night sky, Fe realized just how far he was from Schlel and how slim his chances of survival were. But a sense of confidence began to swell inside of him, now that he was wrapped in the power of so many magical items.
“I will survive,” Fe spoke, not to give himself words of support, but rather to affirm his fate for the earth and the moon and Odin and all the rest. For the captain.
“It is my destiny to survive,” he roared at the heavens, as no one else was around to hear his cry.
“And this wand shall evermore be known as the ‘Maelstrom Whisper,’ for silencing the beast of the sea.”