Author’s Note: Death Whispers of the Etherwave is a serialized fiction story that is a part of Legends of the Privateers. Each chapter will appear weekly.
Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, never you worry, as we’re only just getting started! The full list of chapters will appears here!
Transformed by the cataclysm of 1712, Doctor Pedro Sangre and his four courageous privateer companions confront mysterious and evil forces that plague innocent people. Together, they grapple with uncanny forces and myths come to life, risking everything to preserve peace and set right what has gone wrong.
Previously: A quick trip to “merchant’s row” along the Kingston docks runs Dr. Pedro Sangre and Lysander Riverwind into an unexpected meeting! The possible ghost of Captain Dryden Storm! Along with that comes a strange note to meet Pedro’s old friend from the assassin’s guild, the Marquee Brotherhood, who may have more details around the mysterious Codex and it’s dark purpose…
“Jasper’s wagon is just ahead on the right. I can see his acrobats over the crowd,” I said while I peered past the people ahead of us. “Lucien has to be here somewhere.”
“It looks like Jasper is in rare form today, too,” Lysander commented with a nod to the brightly decorated wagon.
I looked past the modest crowd at a wood-covered wagon sheltered by a set of striped red, gold, and green sun tarps. A blue lettered wooden sign for Jasper Finnegan’s Freakish Delights gleamed in the Caribbean sun. The merchant’s wares were set out on portable weathered, wooden shelves where they could also catch the light, giving each bottle, brass-trimmed chest, and more, a golden glimmer.
“He usually is,” I replied as I glanced over the crowd. After a moment, my expression melted into a faint grimace. “I don’t see Lucien in the audience, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t there.”
“Maybe he’s waiting until we pass by?” Lysander asked while we skirted the edge of the crowd.
“Most likely,” I nodded slightly. The tension knit my eyebrows tighter. “It makes me wonder if he’s being watched or followed?”
Lysander shook his head. “No idea. You know him better than I do.”
I glanced at the crowd one more time, then over at Finnegan’s Freakish Delights while we walked past. Jasper and I exchanged a polite, but subtle, nod to one another across the audience. A bit of professional courtesy, since we were both alchemists.
Jasper Finnegan then gestured to his wares while he stirred up the crowd with his practiced, energetic speech. From groomed beard and mustache, to bright clothing, he was every bit the showman. Even the gray in his beard was carefully doctored. All of it was done to present the picture of a stately, eye-catching, older human ‘man of the world’.
Performing on either side of Jasper were his two employees. One was a tawny-haired thayan man in bright, red-trimmed clothes who was an expert knife juggler. The other was a short human woman with olive-tan skin dressed in loose fitting sailor’s clothing. She was an acrobatic expert with a staff.
They both were extra entertainment and help. Mostly, they kept an eye on the crowd for anyone who might want to buy something, or cause a problem.
Jasper’s cheerful speech dove into questionable, daring tales around his bottles and potions while we passed by.
“I really can’t tell if the crowd is really interested in his tonic, or just enjoys his wild stories.” I smirked over the display. “He gives quite a show.”
Lysander squinted at a nearby bottle of something yellow-brown and cloudy on Jasper’s shelves.
“Apparently, this month, he’s using spiced rum in his tonic?” Lysander commented with an amused expression.
“The day one of Jasper Finnegan’s rum lotions work to soothe my old joint pain, I’ll bathe in it,” came a soft voice behind us.
We had found Lucien, or rather he’d found us.
My old friend and mentor, Lucien Massena, looked far less dangerous than he really was, which was just how he preferred it. He was a thin, older human man with brownish-gray hair, who dressed painfully average, and was easily forgettable. Someone who always looked faintly amused by the world around him, no matter what.
Most would never guess that he was one of the most skilled poisoners that the Marquee Brotherhood had.
He greeted us with a brief nod, then gave Sebastian a scratch behind the horns.
I smiled. “It’s good to see you, Lucien. So, you have something on the Codex?”
“Yes, but I doubt you’ll like it.” His face tensed with a faint grimace. “The Brotherhood has precious little on the Codex Luminari. What they do have is unsettling. The Codex was written by one Tristam Greenholm about a century ago in Otherworld. He was a Silvashar thayan wavebinder who was delving into how the Etherwave Arcana touched the world and people at a deep level. How some people were able to manipulate it better than others.”
“So, it’s a just record of his studies?” Lysander asked curiously.
“It would seem so,” Lucien nodded. “But it’s the nature of those studies is what’s unsettling. Experiments around how the Etherwave Arcana connects to a person either alive, or mostly dead. Then, how to tap into that, or so I’ve been told. Particularly, the mostly dead part.”
“Lucien, are you serious? That sounds like spectral alchemy.” I scowled. “Tampering with necromancy and the darker side of the Etherwave? It’s playing with fire and a keg of powder at best. That’s why it’s illegal in many places.”
That made me wonder about the parts Skaldi and Durner were making, and the device they’re meant to work with. It gave me ideas, and I didn’t like any of them.
“My friend, did you hear or read anything about the Codex having a set of plans for a device? Perhaps some sort of ‘arcane pump’ or engine?”
Lucien shook his head.
“No. There’s been no mention of anything of the sort. But all of this so far? That’s only the half of it,” the poisoner said with a warning look.
“There was a quiet hunt for your Codex Luminari about three years ago. Several assassins and hunters went after it. Most didn’t come back. Those that did weren’t quite in one piece.”
Lucien then held up a finger in emphasis.
“Once the Brotherhood’s Council of Five discovered how those assassins died, they quickly marked the Codex off limits to all Marquee Houses. No exceptions.” He shook his head. “Rumor has it they were given a stern order to stop looking.”
I swapped a puzzled look with Lysander, then touched Lucien’s arm to interrupt him. We stopped outside a basket weaver’s booth with a wide assortment of rainbow colored wicker baskets. The crowd was much thinner here, with less chance of us being overheard.
“Wait. You mean to say someone ordered the ruling leadership of the Marquee Brotherhood to stop looking for the Codex and they just… obeyed?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Lucien, monarchies have tried that for years, and paid in blood for it. Who has that sort of influence?”
I felt a sharp chill along my spine when my old mentor folded his arms over his chest, then smirked at me.
“A convincing woman who has very sharp teeth, and not much sense of humor.” He nodded at me. “Though, Pedro, I think you would know that better than anyone. Doesn’t she owe you a favor? Or you her? I’ve lost track.”
“Morowen Waxbend,” I replied with a heavy sigh, then rubbed my eyes. “Mierda,” I swore bitterly.
Lysander did a double take.
“Morowen…,” he said hesitantly. “Short woman with dark black hair, black eyes, blue-gray skin, and a terrible temper? The Sea Hag of Port Royal? The town of Port Royal? That Morowen Waxbend?”
“Right down to her shark teeth. The very same, yes.”
Lucien’s smirk bloomed a bit more while he raised an eyebrow at the two of us.
“If one of the Daughters of the Deep kicks your door in, and tells you ‘stop’,” he shrugged, “by God, you stop. Especially after she’s dragged more than one of your guildmates to the bottom of the ocean.”
Then he let out a long sigh.
“Pedro. Lysander. If you two want to know about the Codex, and I mean really know about it, talk to Morowen. Everything I’ve heard tells me she has some personal stake in this.” He shrugged again. “Hopefully, she won’t gut you alive, drown you, or turn you into a writhing pile of sea spiders for asking.”
I pursed my lips and stared into the air somewhere beyond us in the middle of the street while my thoughts churned. Sea gulls complained to each other while they staked out a few fresh fish in a net nearby. I watched a group of cargo handlers skillfully move a net of crates to the dock from a South China Sea merchant ship.
“There isn’t much choice, is there?” I asked both of them in a low tone.
“Not that I can tell,” Lucien replied with a sympathetic look.
“It makes a sort of twisted sense that there’s a sea hag involved,” Lysander mused with a thoughtful sigh. “I’ve heard the Daughters of the Deep are quick to down anyone with a Dark Mark, or who plays with Etherwave necromancy if they catch them.”
“True.” My expression darkened. “But then there’s Joshua Argall. How does he fit in? Señor Argall claimed the Codex was a book of old maps. We’re missing something very important, and I can’t see what it is.”
A thought hit me, and I shot Lucien a suspicious look.
“Lucien? What was the reason for all the secrecy with the note and meeting at Jasper’s booth? Did something happen?”
He raised his eyebrows, then took a slow breath.
“You could say that,” Lucien replied with a guarded expression.
The poisoner glanced over his shoulder, while worry lines deepened across his forehead.
“Once I got your note about the Codex, Pedro, I went searching Marquee guildhalls. I’ll tell you, that took a few favors. Some of the Marquee Houses are a little touchy over who gets a look in their archives.“
Lucien then gave us a half-shrug.
“You see, I was ambushed in House Jadescale’s guildhall. Hired cutthroats, looking to beat out of me what I knew about the Codex Luminari, and that page you have. It happened again after I left House Frostsin’s guildhall.”
“You were attacked?” I scowled. “Twice? Once even inside a Brotherhood guildhall? Are you all right?”
“I was knocked around a little before help arrived, but don’t worry, I’m fine,” Lucien confirmed, voice brittle. “My ego took the worst of it, since they caught me off guard.”
“Did they say anything?” Lysander was as alarmed as I was. “Or was it just asking about the Codex and Pedro?”
Lucien nodded.
“They did mention that their employer didn’t want anyone looking into the Codex,” he replied before he glanced between us. “But…”
Suddenly, Jasper Finnegan was right there with us. There was a bombastic mention of ‘amazing exploits’ I hadn’t quite paid attention to, but wished I had. The showman grabbed both Lysander and myself around the shoulders with a bright smile.
“Unpleasant company coming, gentlemen,” Jasper whispered quickly under his breath.
A subtle jerk of his head alerted us to four broad-shouldered men behind the crowd at Freakish Delights. They stared at us with all the warmth a predator has for its prey. Methodically, they parted the crowd in our direction.
“Thank you, Jasper,” Lucien said with a small, warm smile and a nod. “You’re a prince among merchants, like always. I owe you.”
“Think nothing of it!” Jasper replied a bright grin.
“Until next time, gentlemen,” Lucien said, then stepped away to vanish into the shadows beside Jasper’s wagon.
“Now,” Jasper told us with a tight hug. “Let’s entertain the crowd, eh? Some rousing tales of exploration, while my associates toss out the rubbish.”
The showman steered Lysander and myself toward his wagon of lotions and ‘miracle medications’. He winked at his two acrobat employees. They nodded back, then slipped easily through the crowd to intercept the four cutthroats.
I swapped an uneasy glance with Lysander, as we found ourselves unwilling assistants of Jasper Finnegan’s Freakish Delights.
To our credit, Jasper’s sales of his rum-soaked elixirs were the best he’d had all week.
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Hoist the Colors is a work of pure, unabashed fiction. Actually, when it's not swinging off the rigging, or shivering some timbers, it's rather shy and retiring. Did I mention it enjoys baking? Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. So he really is all to blame here.
Any resemblance to persons living, dead, shoved overboard, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author's, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.
Pedro just can't catch a break, can he? "Talk to Morowen." Run away! Run away!
A delightful installment! I would have loved to watch the show, especially with Pedro's participation. Can't wait for the next one--sounds like trouble is coming in the form of a nasty woman!