Fishwhacked: Reign of the Walrus Witch

Chapter 1

"The king is dead!" The servant ran out of the king's chambers, waving his arms and shouting. "King Crust is dead!"

The armored guards posted outside the door both tried to enter the king's chambers at the same time and got stuck in the doorway.

Their heavy plate mail clanked and creaked as they struggled to get free.

"What happened?" one of the knights demanded as he and his comrade wiggled desperately.

"Nothing! I just went in to give the king his boar egg breakfast! A second ago! You just saw me!" the servant rambled.

His face was red and he wiped his sweat away with the sleeve of his robe.

"That's true, we did," the other knight said. Both guards grunted and sprung free, leaving the doorframe somewhat bent. They realigned their helmets and then looked into the room.

The king's chambers were lined with gaudy, lavish carpets and tapestries, with a few paintings on the walls. The window that normally looked out over the lake was firmly locked and showed no signs of tampering. The king's portly body was sprawled out facedown in the center of the floor next to the fallen tray of boar-egg omelette.

The two knights knelt down beside the corpse.

"Who could have done this?"

"The servant was the only one in here!"

"What? Me?" the servant asked as the knights glared at him. "Never! I adore the king! And what could I have done in that... fraction of a second?"

"Hmm. What indeed." The knights looked back at the fallen king. "Are you sure he's dead?"

"He's not breathing. The living usually breathe."

"What's going on?" came a sharp voice from the hallway. The princess Paistra, pointy-faced and in wrinkled silk robes, walked in. She noticed the king and pushed the knights aside. "What the hell is this? What happened?"

"He's dead, your grace. We think the servant did it, just now."

Paistra knelt down and rolled her father over. She inspected the body, and then said, "No."

The servant exhaled.

Paistra prodded her father's face. "He's been dead for a while now. This must have happened overnight."

"We saw him at midnight when he demanded a glass of water," a knight said. "And we've been at our posts since. Nobody came in."

"Look." Paistra moved the king's head aside to show the bruise on his chest. The gemstone that hung from his neck had been shattered and there was an odd, yet familiar, imprint on his flesh.

"What is that pattern? It's like... scales."

"That's right." Paistra stood up and blew a tuft of her rust-colored hair out of her face. "Look at the shape of the wound. And there's no mistaking that smell. I think... I think he was slapped with a fish."

* * *

The nineteen-year-old Ebb, still half-asleep, fumbled around the cramped kitchen cupboards, reaching for whatever sustenance she could find. After cramming some old biscuits into her mouth, she downed a glass of boar-milk and wiped her face on the sleeve of her old, worn, red-plaid shirt. She stuck her bucket hat over her frizzed brown hair and stepped into her boots. Moving with the mechanical efficiency of someone who had done this every morning for as long as she could remember, she picked up her tackle box and fishing rod and headed for the door.

Her gentle morning routine was interrupted by a series of sharp knocks. She snapped awake and felt an intense malice for whoever was assaulting her door. She set down her tackle box and twisted the rusty knob. The morning sunlight she expected did not come, as she found the doorway blocked by the frame of a gigantic man.