Both ships lie hauled up onto the beach. Ulfgar drops a rope and happily high-fives a dozen sailors. A small group of villagers gathers just outside of the still-forming encampment. A child reaches up to grab a smoking pipe from a sailor before the mother yells so loud it makes everyone pause. Then laugh.

  The captain and I look on from atop a boulder further up shore. The ships are in rough shape, neither truly seaworthy.

  “We’ll salvage one to fix the other,” the captain says.

  “And the remaining pirates, what will you do with them?” I ask.

  “See those there?” The captain points to the middle of the camp. A mix of pirates and sailors set up tent poles, unload supplies for the ship repair and rations. “Those will be welcome to join the crew, replacing the ones we lost. Those over there?” The captain points to a group of men at the edge of camp. They are passing flasks and burning herbs in a circle. A few kick a bag into the air in a game. “Those will not.”

  He knows how to sift the gold from the sand. I hadn’t even spent the mental energy to remember the captain’s name. It’s best not to get attached to people. Because in this business, people die.

  In fact, that’s the whole point.

  The captain’s jacket looks even worse now. What started as a small tear in the seam along the shoulder became a full removal of a sleeve. Smaller rips spread across the fabric like a pox, and splinters from the ship remain embedded between threads.

  “Patches,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Captain Patches. That’s your name.”

  “No, it’s not…”

  “Patches, I think my cut of fifteen percent of your cargo has diminished since our first port was onto a pile of sand.”

  “True.”

  “I propose an addendum. We’re not far from Yon’Kor where I had planned to bring the girl.”

  Nimue. Speak of the devil. Where was she?

  A man yelling draws my attention. He levitates in the air at a card game near the lazy pirates. “You have cards in your clothes!” Nimue scolds him.

  “No, I don’t. I swear!”

  He spins upside down, and a snowstorm of playing cards pours out of his pockets, floating down like confetti at a victory parade.

  “Those aren’t mine!”

  It’s good to see she can take care of herself.

  Back to Patches.

  “Ulfgar, the girl, and I will set off on foot from here. We can’t take much with us. How about we take what we can carry out of the pirates’ haul? Your sailors have probably taken the best already.”

  Patches smiles and nods, knowing the sailors’ pockets look suspiciously lumpy with coin. “Yes, just show me what you take before you head out.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “Fine. Ulfgar! Nimue! Follow me.”

  Ulfgar trots over to me and falls in line, his heavy steps sinking deep into the moist sand.

  The pirate floating in the air falls hard. Nimue points a finger in his face and says, “Don’t be a little bitch, else I will make you mine!”

  She’s going to be a problem for somebody. I just hope it’s not me.

  We climb up a lattice of rope work hanging off the side of the pirate ship, then head down below decks, just one lantern to guide us down. The dampness in the bowels of the craft mixes with a rotten acridness.

  “Look, Zane! Hungry?” Ulfgar has pried open a box. Whatever was inside had turned into a brown mush that undulates from the dance of a thousand maggots.

  “No, thanks.”

  Surely there is something worth taking down here.

  “Oh, dollies!” Nimue picks up three dolls, one at a time, then holds them triumphantly aloft. She beams happily. Maybe the first time I’ve seen her smile.

  She’s too old for dolls. I almost say as much, but then again, Nimue has likely had her childhood stolen. Similar to someone raised by a mercenary guild captain, an adolescence filled with physical training, obstacle courses, and pain management. Wonder if I know anyone like that.

  Not that I mind. I love it now in a way. But is that because it’s what I know, or does that appreciation for this life come from who I really am? It’s an existential question that will have to wait because the barbarian has found a giant vreking axe.

  “Zane!” Ulfgar holds the thing above his head, his arms straining. It’s at least double the size of a standard. The double-sided axe blade sits at the top, and a slender snake or wyrm coils in a circle around the shaft with gaps perfect for the fitting of the barbarian’s giant fingers. The obvious exquisite craftsmanship and value of the weapon would not have escaped the sailors. They didn’t take it because it was the heaviest thing imaginable.

  “That’s too heavy, brother. It will slow you down.”

  “It will not!”

  And that, as they say, is that.

  With my two compatriots busy with their toys, it’s up to me now to find something of value in this sodden tomb. Most of it isn't worth carrying on foot, but in the corner of the storage room, there is something wrapped in soiled linens. After unraveling the cloth, I find a treasure inside.

  The red crystal fits in my enclosed hand. Cracks spread like a spiderweb through it, with deeper cuts tunneling through as if eaten by a worm. It is indeed in rough shape, but I recognize it instantly.

  A linked crystal.

  The shape is a hexagonal cylinder that meets at points at either end. A double-terminated quartz. This one has a sister, somewhere, which would make it extremely valuable to whoever owned the other half of the pair. It could be a wealthy merchant or royalty. Who could know? In its present state, it would be impossible to use without repair. But fortunately, we were on our way to a group that would know how to fix it.

  Wizards.

  “What’d you find, Zane?” Ulfgar looks over my shoulder. “Oh, garbage.”

  “Trash to us, but invaluable to one buyer. These are incredibly rare.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  We abscond from the belly of this wooden whale and emerge to a warming day, welcoming sun, and a flock of seagulls that could smell the rotten treasures below. I left the hatch open for them. They are welcome to the noxious bounty should they be brave enough to navigate the dark lower decks.

  After some farewells to Captain Patches and the rest of the sailors, we purchase some supplies for our journey at the village. Anything that could last us a few days' travel without perishing. Salted fish filets, dried fruits, and nuts. Ulfgar insists on a few flasks of ale. His steps are already slow due to lugging his new axe and old mace, but some people cannot be reasoned with.

  I take one last look at the camp down at the beach below that we left behind. The pirates that wouldn’t be welcomed by Patches to the new crew would come to this village. Cause problems. Some would stay. Marry. Have children. All would be stories.

  Ulfgar, Nimue, and I head out, forging a new path toward Nimue’s next home. Even from here, miles away, the massive iron chain stretches from the earth into the clouds, tethering the floating wizard city of Yon’Kor to the world below.

  “Zane, you haven't even told us our contract. Do we have enough time to drop her off?” Ulfgar asks. He bats a vine out of his face.

  The contract is set to expire in two years. We have plenty of time. I haven’t spoken much of the current contract to anyone. Not even Ulfgar. Because I didn’t want anyone to give anything away. But our current mission is very valuable. Very dangerous. Very impossible.

  We are going to kill a god.