Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Deep Dark, Chapter 1 - Eloise

The air smelled like the sea again. Eloise hadn't realized she missed it. It was refreshing and cleansing after the stagnant fetor of The Gloamlands. She stood in the afternoon sun in the market of a quaint sea trading village. She couldn't remember for certain what it was called, just that it was south of Hedgemont. She, Revelyn, Bryn, and Grael had intentionally avoided the larger city; there was nothing for them within its walls.

She took quick notice of a large ship within the harbor. It was the only one capable of withstanding lengthy travel. It had light blue sails and the carving of a woman with outstretched arms painted gold on the prow. The ship's most important feature was a small striped flag that denoted its good standing with the Kingdom of Iron Fen. Revelyn nudged her; he saw it too.

"I pray whoever owns that vessel is friendly," he said. "Seems our best option both for getting home and fetching our next ingredient."

The last ingredient, Eloise thought. She had collected the bowl made of golem clay and her memorized fragment of the unspeakable words. The wyrd women were responsible for the phoenix feather and the parchment. What remained was ink from a kraken, a giant creature of legend said to live deep within the ocean. It was the task with which she was least comfortable. While Bryn had advised navigating a ship to the deepest trench of the sea, he had not yet come up with a plan for summoning the creature to the surface. Even if he had, Eloise wasn't even sure how to go about combating it.

The young mage was in front of her at a stand where a woman was selling a sweet and salty jam made of seaweed. She smeared a sample on his wrist to try. Green slime trickled to his elbow.

"Thank you," Bryn said politely. He tried not to gag on the dreadful concoction.

Eloise squeezed past him.

"Excuse me. Do you know whose ship that is?"

The woman shifted her eyes briefly to the harbor, though she could already tell which one Eloise meant. She rolled her eyes.

"It belongs to Captain Wulf," she said. "He comes here with his fancy ship from Fjormire. He wears a big tacky hat with garish feathers in it."

Eloise tapped her fingers along the edge of the wooden stand. It was clear from the woman's response she had a problem with Captain Wulf.

"Do... you... know where I could find him?" she asked cautiously.

"Why?"

"So... I can speak with him?"

The woman sighed into a groan as though the notion of helping Eloise was physically painful. She folded her arms.

"You'll find him in the tavern telling one of his stories to a gullible crowd," she said. "Don't be hoodwinked. He's a liar. No way a man has adventured as much as he claims. He says he's been as far west as Einalia."

Eloise's eyes darted again to the small flag allowing safe passage to Iron Fen. Of course, the ship had been to Einalia. She supposed a small-town merchant would have no way of knowing.

"We've come from Einalia ourselves. We're looking for a way back."

"He won't help you," she said without a breath. "The only person he cares about is himself. If he mentions me, tell him I don't care."

Eloise nodded, although she didn't quite understand the last request.

"Will do," she replied anyway.

She found the tavern easily enough. It was one of the few more permanent structures on the beachfront. A pair of drunken sailors spoke loudly while urinating in a trench outside. She focused on the dry-rotted door instead and ventured towards it.