The Sea Devil of Moraport (I)

The wagon rattled steadily down the winding roads, its occupants shielded from curious eyes by their dark cloaks, weary even this late into the foggy night. Among those leaving late work shifts and even later dinner parties, a number of guards patrolled the streets. Most spared little attention to the night crowd. Others were a bit more watchful, noting the passing wagon but keeping to themselves as the hooded figures did the same. Neither group had reason to interact with the other. Focused on their own destination, it was easy for the occupants to miss eyes lingering long after they had faded into the night.

They continued undeterred, the light of the docks in sight before the wagon turned down an alley. The figures wordlessly dismounted from the wagon, moving away as one addressed the driver.

“Meet us at the agreed upon location. Do not draw attention to yourself.”

The driver grunted in understanding before urging the horses onward. The front wheels of the wagon had barely made it onto the main street when a fourth figure emerged from the alley’s shadow.

“This way,” was all the new figure said before disappearing down a nondescript alley, easily missed if one wasn’t aware of its location. The group moved in that manner until they stopped in another narrow alley.

“What now, Ameka,” Jon, the leader of their small group, asked.

Instead of an immediate answer, their guide, Ameka, knelt and lifted the cover of the manhole at his feet. No different from the others they had walked past, much like the alleys.

“We go down,” the other stated simply. He placed the cover aside and slipped down the opening. Jon spared the other two a look before descending. The ladder creaked as he reached the bottom, the sound of rushing water somewhere beside him.

He gripped the ladder as he moved away to make room for his companions. He swore as his foot brushed against something. Rather than the expected scurrying, he heard glass crack against stone and the sound of said thing rolling into the sewer. Jon grimaced at the sound and smell that arose from its disturbance.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Light filled the tunnel, drawing Jon’s eyes to the source. Ameka had discarded his coat in the time it took Jon to enter the sewer.

He sported simple black pants secured into tall boots, similar to what many dock workers favored.

Jon thought his choice in shirt was peculiar. The loose white material had wide sleeves that gathered at his wrists and was tucked just as securely into his pants. Beneath the open neckline, Jon saw a tighter fabric flush against his brown skin. It’s metallic sheen caught the light when Ameka faced him. Jon wasn’t sure of its purpose but it didn’t seem to hinder his movements as he reached for the lantern at his feet. Ameka’s locs were bundled at the nape of his neck, much simpler than the intricate coils he preferred during the daylight hours and parties. Despite how the outfit looked as a whole, Ameka had, in his own way, chosen comfort for their trek.

Camille moved aside for Hal to use the ladder, taking in their illuminated surroundings.

Once he was sure Hal would have no issues descending, Ameka addressed the group.  “We’ll be following the sewers. The path will be a bit difficult to use. Make sure you don’t stray.”

Camille’s nose was drawn up in disgust. “Wouldn’t another light be better?”

“Yes,” Ameka replied with a pointed look at Jon. Said man was watching Hal slide the manhole closed with great interest. At least he had the decency to feel regretful.

“As long as you don’t get too far ahead, we should be fine,” Hal replied, having joined them on the pathway. A word of reassurance but also confirmation. Ameka looked at them each in turn. With no further inquiries, Ameka started walking deeper into the sewer. The group was quick to follow.

The waterways were navigable outside of the rainy season, the once flooded, worn pathways revealed as they journeyed deeper through the many twisting tunnels. They eventually joined the main sewers line, the wide tunnel stretching in the semi darkness, their guide was sure of his steps. Humid, stagnant air made breathing a miserable affair. They hadn’t been in the sewers long before shedding their cloaks.

Ameka didn’t hesitate to lead them across creaky, metal bridges over the waste pouring from smaller tunnels and under groaning twisted pipes, unbothered by the echoes surrounding them. When they stopped for a breather at Ameka’s prompting, he ushered them into an alcove with the practiced ease of someone who’d made similar trips.

After hours of walking–and it had to be hours, if the numbing pain building in their feet was anything to go by –there was nothing to show how far they’d gone. Nothing to indicate the direction they needed to go. Just a dark tunnel filled with their dancing shadows and the light at their front.

Until a glow appeared underfoot, dim and fleeting as they walked.

At first, Jon blamed it on staring ahead for so long, as to not lose sight of their only light source. It glowed brighter where Ameka stepped, casting the immediate area in a soft blue light then faded once everyone had passed over the spot.

Camille finally stopped and crouched. Her fingers traced the air over the tile, hesitant to touch. Or reluctant. Years of waste would make anyone pause, no matter how curious.

“What is it?”

“At first glance, they look to be the stone’s natural appearance. But look, there are markings here. Engraved into the tiles.”

“Maybe it’s a design? The streets near the docks have them.”

“So why don’t those stones glow but the ones here do?”

Jon agreed. He could see the same curling pattern once he knew where it started. His eyes had to adjust to the breaks in the tile. Though, the gaps in the flow of the design seemed by choice rather than age. Not once had he seen anything like this during his trips. He presented his own question to Ameka.

Ameka, who stood idle as the group conversed, looked at the spot Camille was studying.

“I’ve been told they mostly serve as markers. To light the way for long-term guests and envoys. The arrangement is a decorative flourish from the original architect.”

Jon wanted to ask by who but Ameka walked away, signaling the end of their impromptu stop.

Even the ever present stench couldn’t dampen their excitement.

To think one of the treasurers was right under their noses, walking the streets of Moraport! Weeks ago, they were some of the many who believed the legend was just that; a tale to pass the time in backstreet taverns or entertain out of towners at parties. But weren’t there threads of truth twisted in any fictitious tale for it to circulate for decades? Now deep beneath the quiet cobbled streets of Moraport, four individuals made their way to a destination many believed to in the realm of fairy tales.

A breeze stirred the sheer curtains along the open windows, bringing with it the sounds of another bustling night. The third floor of the building lit in its entirety, casting elegant silhouettes on the stone streets below. The city was aglow with the lights of seafaring vessels at port.

The view could keep his attention for only so long.

It was easy to tease his acquaintance as he crowded them into an empty corner at yet another lavish party. He’d been bored honestly, so having new gossip to partake in was a welcome change of pace. Instead of news of the latest going-ons of their peers, Hal felt the need to regale him with a very familiar tale; a magical shore of endless treasure for anyone persistent enough to find it. For how juvenile the story seemed at his age, Hal spoke with such intensity that Jon hesitated to dislodge the other man. His face must have reflected his thoughts because Hal’s voice pitched lower. He pointed at the fireplace and the occupied couch near it.

“The man chatting with Camille. He can lead us to Amarina.”

He would have laughed except for the unwanted attention he’d find himself with. The idea of engaging in another mind-numbing conversation with his brother’s business partner kept him in check. Jon pressed his lips into a thin line and narrowed his eyes.

“Odd way to spend our short time alone, wouldn’t you say?”

“Remember the Hasewood kid,” Hal continued undeterred. “They’ve been strutting around, spending more than their family earns all year. And word says it started after meeting with him.”

“Or they weasel their way into a charitable bargain. Perhaps an unexpected inheritance from a departed relative. It could be a number of things.”

“It could. But a little digging won’t hurt, right?”

A bout of laughter drew their attention back to Camille. From what Jon could see, She sat close to the young man beside her. Despite the increasing number of people gathered near, his eyes never strayed from Camille. He lounged against the arm of the couch, his glass held loosely in his hand as he replied to Camille, a smile plastered on her face. Even Jon could see the sparkle of silver embroidered on the man’s coat and woven throughout his hair, dark locs curled about his head like roiling waves. The fact Camille had chosen to entertain him for as long as she had...

Jon placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and steered them to the fireplace.

“I suppose it couldn’t,” he answered with measured indulgence.

“Are you alright?” Camille’s question pulled Jon from his musings. They had stopped at what appeared to be a dead end. The smell of salt was stronger. Now that he was focusing again, Jon could see light peeking from an opening in the wall in front of them.

“I’m fine,” Jon said, even as he considered how his legs ached. “Where are we?”

“Exactly where you asked to be.”

Ameka stepped through the wall, light outlining his figure as he passed. As he did, the sound of water became clearer in the near silent tunnels. Curious as he was about the indications of that, Jon instead followed Ameka.

Beyond the wall was a rusted gate leading to a wide, open air cavern, stone weathered to a smooth gray after years of storms. Yet, the dock didn’t show signs of rot despite being exposed to the elements. If anything, it appeared as if the wood was recently replaced. And beyond the sturdy, wooden pier, was the sea.

Jon tried to pinpoint exactly what part of Moraport they were situated under when Hal bound forward across the dock and into the waist high water. Jon and Camille looked to each other before hurrying over in time to watch Hal dip under the water, uncaring of his fine travel clothes. Jon looked closer. He realized, just as Hal and Camille most certainly had, that the moon wasn’t the only thing reflecting in the water. Stretching the length of the dock, gold and silver coins sparkled beneath the surface. If he looked closer, Jon was certain he spotted small piles of pearls among jewels of various sizes.

Hal let a handful of coins clatter along the dock, a smile forming as he took in the surprised looks on his friends faces.

“It’s real. All of it,” Hal stated as Jon picked up one, the metal wet and cool between his fingers. Hal and Camille’s laughter echoed through the open cavern. Jon looked to the sea again.

Amarina, the coastal treasury.

While underwhelming in looks, it more than lived up to its ‘treasury’ status. The dock was larger than he thought it would be but the length always varied depending on who was telling it. If he had to guess, the dock the group was on now had to stretch close to a mile. Who could miss it? Regardless, that was better for them. If they could reach this place by other means they wouldn’t have to trek through the winding waterways every time. And based on their uneventful journey, it seem the individual the treasury supposedly belonged to didn’t seek to deter unwanted guests if anyone could just ask to be brought here.

Of course, if it was as simple as that, it would’ve been cleaned out ages ago. There must be something in place to prevent arriving by boat. So until he could work out the finer details…

“Why don’t you join me? The water isn’t nearly as bad as it looks,” asked jokingly as another handful of gold clattered against the wood.

“Absolutely not.” Camille tossed a cloth bag at his face. She scooped the coins Hal dropped onto the dock into another bag. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take to carry this back.”

He pulled the bag off his head, his good mood undeterred as he wadded farther out again. “Suit yourself. Jon?”

“In a moment. There’s something I need to check on,” Jon replied with a meaningful glance behind him. Camille nodded in agreement, mouth set in a firm line as she followed his line of sight.

Ameka had slipped away from the entrance and to the left side of the dock while the three were celebrating their partial success. Closer to the wall, the lantern revealing the rusted hooks evenly spaced along the wall. Ameka turned at Jon’s approach, hanging the lantern on one of the hooks. Jon grinned and tossed his arm around Ameka’s shoulders, causing the younger man to buckle slightly under the sudden weight.

“What are you lurking back here for? Join us,” Jon said, guiding them to the edge of the dock.

Ameka offered a small smile. “I didn’t want to be in anyone’s way.”

“Nonsense! Not after you so graciously led us here.” And back again, when possible. The thought was reinforced as they passed Camille carrying two heavy bags. Before meeting with Ameka, the three had agreed on a set number of bags each would carry. Four had been the original agreement but Jon wasn’t sure if the enchanted Featherlight gloves would last until they made it back to Hal’s shop. He hadn’t anticipated the time it took just to get here.

Better to endear themselves to the treasurer now and ensure none of the other well-known families knew this particular legend was more than that.

“That reminds me. I was wondering if it’d be possible for you to guide us here in the near future.”

“I’m not sure,” Ameka answered, frowning as he thought. “It won’t be low tide for quite some time after tonight. Coming back in the next few days might not be possible.”

That wasn’t a no.

“Apologies, when I said near future I hadn’t meant that soon. But we can discuss more later. For now, let’s focus on carrying what we have.”

Ameka agreed easily, picking up a single bag and heading to the entrance. Jon put on his pair of Featherlight gloves and picked up another full bag of coins once Hal wadded his way over. One step at a time.

Jon was halfway to the gate when he heard a strangled cry, cut short under the sound of a sizable splash. He turned, expecting to see Hal break the surface from his fall. Seconds passed. Hal never emerged.

“Hal,” Jon called out, carefully setting the bag down. He backtracked to the edge. He peered over the waters for any signs of the other man. But the water rippled softly with no signs of anyone having been there. “Hal?”

As he considered entering the water himself, a gasp followed by a gurgling noise drew his attention.

What the hell…

Camille was stumbling, wide-eyed as she gasped for air much like a fish on land. Ameka stood motionless as she collapsed, her hands red as she tried to stop the bleeding.

Ameka?”

“Yris showed earlier than expected.” Ameka faced him, knife gleaming silver in the moonlight.

Jon scoffed. “So that’s it then. This was some sort of trap the whole time.”

“No,” Ameka replied, stepping over Camille’s body, her breathing growing shallow as the seconds ticked by. “I’m simply delivering payment.”

“And this ‘payment’ warranted murder. A bit extreme, don’t you think.” Not that Jon could talk. He didn’t have the cleanest slate himself.

“Entering the water quietly would be preferred. But no one ever takes up the offer,” Ameka said with a sigh.

“Can’t imagine why,” Jon sneered. Jon removed his gloves, eyes on Ameka as he gripped the small blade hidden behind his back, careful of his movement. Ameka finally stopped, their staring contest continuing as he casually turned the knife over in his hand.

He was almost a head taller than Ameka. Even as his legs burned in protest, Jon felt confident. Human or not, Ameka had to feel the exertion of the trip.

There were other treasurers he could find. Would find. Now that he knew what to look for, he was sure to be led back if he couldn’t retrace the steps himself.

Jon lunged, determined to kill the other before exhaustion got the best of him.

Ameka sidestepped once, twice before their knives connected. Jon grabbed Ameka’s free arm and drove his knife into his side. Instead of the familiar give of fabric and flesh, his knife glided across something metallic. His shock didn’t last long. He released Ameka as he felt a slight sting along his arm.

Jon pulled away as the knife whistled through the air, narrowly missing his throat. Any distance he put between them was quickly eaten away as Ameka pressed harder. And he was just as quick to put said distance back between them if Jon tried to do the same.

As if he’s done this before, Jon thinks as he grits his teeth, gripping the handle tighter so it wasn’t disarmed from his hand. Sweat stung his eyes and caused his neck to itch. Watching Ameka circle him along the cavern wall, he risked wiping the sweat from his forehead and neck, hoping to eliminate the distraction it was becoming.

His eyes widened as his hand came away bloody, the burning sensation worse. He brought his hand up to his neck again, this time feeling the irritated flesh there, surrounded by more blood than he expected from a shallow cut.

The handle felt tacky when he flexed his fingers. When Jon looked down he saw the first cut on the inside of his arm was still bleeding steadily, the second joined the rivets of blood trailing down his hand. He noticed how dangerously close both were to his wrist.

He thought back to earlier. He was certain he dodged. Had he misjudged the distance? But when…

Ameka offered no chance for recovery. Their blades met again. Even when he successfully defended against the attacks, Ameka still managed to nick him. Dark eyes stared at his hands intently.

His arm shook from exertion. He was parrying less of Ameka’s blows, his arms stinging as the blade cut into his skin over and over. They struck closer to his wrist as the fight drone on.

During a short reprieve, Jon noticed Ameka wasn’t looking at him. Yes, he tracked Jon’s movements but never met his eyes. His focus lingered on his arms, on the cuts littered there.

Fear stirred in the pit of his stomach. The wounds on his hand and neck wouldn’t stop bleeding. It needed to stop.

He stepped back from a forceful swing and tripped over Camille’s cold body; dull, lifeless eyes staring through him.

Hal had disappeared into the water despite being nearby. Camille died a slow death by the same sorcery bleeding Jon dry.

Death would come calling if he stayed.

Jon stood. His eyes honed in on the exit behind Ameka. He gripped his knife tighter and charged forward. As he’d guessed, Ameka sidestepped his attack. Jon barreled through the opening Ameka made, stumbling into the tunnels as he ran. Gasping breath drowned out the rushing water and glowing stones didn’t nothing to stop the darkness encroaching at the edge of his vision. The once comforting glow of the tiles now a reminder of the vast labyrinth trapping him below.

Ameka lowered his knife as he listened to the retreating footsteps. He sighed, mildly annoyed. He should have known Jon would run. The man had no issue with letting his ‘friends’ do the heavy lifting, both figuratively and literally. Ameka walked over to one such friend, crouching to remove the Featherlight gloves from Camille’s hands and closing her eyes. Gloves stored by his lantern, Ameka went after Jon. He paused to listen for movement before taking the leftmost path. Ameka put away his knife once he heard the telltale signs of shuffling feet directly in front of him. And waited.

Ameka watched Jon’s body sway, following behind at a subdue pace. He’d stop whimpering at some point, perhaps deciding to use his scant energy to inhale another wheezing breath into his failing body. At least the man wasn’t one to beg. It led to unnecessary stalling. Why accept the risk if you weren’t prepared for the consequences?

He wasn’t left with his thoughts for long before Jon collapsed. Ameka grabbed the shirt collar, ensuring the face remained unbruised. Clothes could be replaced. Faces as well but Ameka knows they don’t care to fix them if they believe the work to be a waste of magic. If the body was well enough intact then it was a well enough vessel. So Ameka ensures, to the best of his abilities, that the faces continue to resembles faces.

It’s short work to bring the body back with only slight tearing to the dead man’s trousers. He’d crossed the threshold of the gate when he heard something heavy being dragged across the dock.

Ameka watched the creature slip into the water, its large disc-like body swimming out to the depths of the sea. Camille’s body was gone.

Ameka dragged Jon’s corpse to the edge and searched his body for any personal effects. Another pair of Featherlight gloves, the remaining bags, a ring bearing the crest of his house, and the sheath where he’d stored his knife. The bags, gloves and sheath he put to the side. It would be easy enough to sell the knife with its plain design. The ring he tossed into the water to join the collected treasure there.

His current work done, Ameka sat and waited, his leg swinging idly over the lapping water. The moon had reached its peak when Ameka noticed a break in the rhythmic sway of the sea. Once closer, Ameka spotted the mass of black-blue gliding to where he sat along the dock. The shape was reminisce of giant oceanic rays he’d seen in drawings when he was younger.

The similarity ended when she emerged from the water. Long skeletal limbs supported the front of her body as she pulled herself upright. On the underside of the flat body, hidden by her spanning pectoral fins another set of arms braced against the dock, wood creaking beneath her weight. The third set, Ameka knew, remained out of sight but heard claws digging into the supporting pillars.

Taunt skin covered a partial showing of ribs and face, the rest fading into her body. Her “face” lacked eyes but had a wide mouth which opened to reveal rows of pointed teeth. A guttural sound emitted from her throat before lowering into a hiss.

“Another lovely night. And a successful hunt, even if one of us was a bit impatient.”

The replying hiss echoed off the walls before Ameka finished speaking. He sighed, long and dramatic.

“I know it’s tempting when they’re in the water but it creates extra work I’d rather not have to handle.” He prodded the body with the toe of his boot as if it conveyed such work to the entity before him.

His complaint went unacknowledged. A pair of hands grabbed the upper torso of the corpse and began pulling it into the water, the motion careful with no obstacles to hinder her.

“Ah, if I could trouble you before you go.”

Yris paused. Ensuring the body wouldn’t escape her hold, she stretched out her hand, webbed fingers open and waiting.

His own retrieved a pouch from his pants pocket, withdrawing a necklace. The cord held half of a scallop shell, bone white and smooth. Crystals clustered in a deep seafoam green on the other side. While Ameka didn’t make a habit of not wearing it, sometimes it was better not to when too much magic was stored within. Usually the heat didn’t affect him but it felt uncomfortable against his skin over long periods.

He dropped the necklace into her waiting hand. Rather than landing directly in her hand, it floated several inches in the air as a dense mist dispersed from the shell.

Ameka watched as green gave way to cloudy white. Satisfied with her work, Yris let the necklace fall into her hand before offering it back to Ameka. He could already feel the cool familiar stream of magic working through his fingers. He’d barely considered placing the necklace back where it belonged when something heavy landed near his feet with a familiar clinking sound. The bag was only partially full but still…

“Thank you but I don’t need more money. Really.”

She didn’t humor him with a reply, scuttling appendages sliding into the water with the last body before he could convince her otherwise.

The moment passed with the increasing sound of water. Small rivets streamed from the cave ceiling, over the once hidden, carved markings and the now present shimmer of the barrier falling into place. The sea entrance would be sealed before he returned topside.

Ameka placed the shell around his neck, securing it beneath his shirt before picking up the gloves and bag. He retrieved the lantern from its hook, glanced over the dock and, seeing nothing that furthered required his attention, departed.

Rather than return to the original entry point, Ameka traveled deeper into the waterways. The trip was faster without having to loop through the same tunnels for hours and ensuring his victims wouldn’t notice. Having them pick over the precarious path in the dark also helped. A tired and distracted human was a dead human.

It was easy to draw in the curious and the desperate with whispered promises the rumor mill spilled among the residents of Moraport. Someone eventually took the bait and Ameka would be there to drag them to their demise. This recent group had proven the point as well as the last. In truth, Camille was the one he’d been most worried of convincing. Despite her open and friendly demeanor, she was naturally weary of offers that seem too good to be true. But her two companions did the work of squashing her doubts for him.

The lantern had burned out but he didn’t need its light. His sight had improved once the magic made contact with his body so he had no issue spotting the ladder leading to the manhole above.

Ameka tapped the manhole twice and two hits echoed back immediately. The bag made maneuvering his arms a little difficult but eventually, Ameka slid the cover aside.

“That was faster than last time.”

The early dusk sky contrasted with the waiting silhouette standing off to the side of the opening. A hand grabbed Ameka’s arm and pulled him out of the manhole entirely. The humid, salt-tinged air was refreshing to breathe again after hours below. Out of the dark, things were more noticeable. Such as the blood and grime he missed when he tried to rid himself of any signs of the trip.

“Yris was closer than I thought. There was no reason to stall once she came ashore,” Ameka replied, lips pursed in discomfort as he looked at his dirty hands. He resisted the urge to wipe the gritty feeling off on his damp clothing. Might as well wait. “The payment was made,” Ameka continued, shoving the bag and gloves at the other man’s chest. “Here. For you.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” the other protested but stared at Ameka expectedly.

Ameka shook his head. “The bodies were in good condition. Taking parts would have ruined them.”

“Aww.”

“Maybe next time.” There was no downside to having too many bodies.

Manhole secured, Ameka and his companion walked into the weaning darkness of the alley and into the waking streets of Moraport.