Chapter 14
A Dread Tide Rising by Walt Shuler
It’s time for another installment of ADTR, and things start to get weird.
Previously: Mac made it to House Cöet and gained entry.
Currently: Gorm and Kye meet with the Widow Helmsworth and quickly discover that all is not as it seems.
A Dread Tide Rising is a serialized, pulp-flavored, epic fantasy novel set in the world of Thalrassa. It follows the Talon, a group of mercenaries, thieves, and smugglers, as they come face-to-face with an ancient enemy intent on the destruction of the Rakkian Empire.
New to ADTR? Catch up on all the chapters here. You can learn more about the members of the Talon here and explore Thalrassa-related lore here. The map of Thalrassa can be found here.
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Chapter 14
Kye and Gorm followed Matilde from the courtyard through a doorway and then down a hall. They turned left through a massive ironwood door that opened into what the thief assumed must have been a solar. Or maybe it had been Jarl’s study once upon a time.
The room was built of stone, but painted green, with silver stars overhead and partially down the walls. The effect was to create the feeling of a forest enclave, with the stars of heaven wheeling above. Kye thought it all a bit ostentatious.
Matilde indicated that the pair should sit, directing them to a low couch along one wall. The lady herself took a tall chair close to the fireplace. It was unlit and cold, old ash piled deep across the soot-streaked stone.
“Tell me,” she said, one hand adjusting her graying hair. “What do you have in mind and how might it profit me?”
“Lady,” Gorm intoned, his deep voice reverberating within the room, “It’s a matter of some delicacy. One that I…”
“Ma’am,” Kye interrupted at the prearranged time. “Might I beg use of your facilities?” She did her best to appear nonchalant. A boy would think nothing about asking to relieve himself, even during trade discussions. “I find myself in a somewhat delicate situation.”
Matilde’s thin lips pressed together, becoming little more than a straight line. For a moment, Kye worried that she would refuse out of hand. Then she relented. “Of course,” she said, feigning a friendly smile and failing miserably. “If you step through the door, turn to your left and follow the hallway to the end. You’ll find the garderobe there.”
“Thank you, milady,” Kye sketched a quick bow and left. As she shut the door behind her, the sounds of conversation resumed. She wasted no time in making her way down the corridor. She found the garderobe without any problem and held her nose as she walked past it. Not sure where to go, she took the next right and found herself in a hallway lined with closed wooden doors.
On a whim, she opened the first door and stepped in. The room was without windows and dark. It smelled of must and dust and disuse. The light from the doorway was enough for her to make out dusty shelves, mostly empty. A storage closet, she realized. Uninterested, she left, closing the door behind her.
Gorm would keep the woman busy for as long as he could, she knew. He had explained his idea to her on the walk up to the house. While he spun tall tales about the riches to be exploited through his connections, Kye would snoop around and see what she could find.
Gorm had been pretty vague with his instructions. Look for anything unusual, he said. Well, what about this place wasn’t unusual? The overgrown courtyard filled with carnivorous plants certainly counted in Kye’s estimation. The Lady Matilde herself was not particularly ordinary, either. She’d done nothing overt, but there was something about her. The whole damn place raised Kye’s hackles.
She came to another door. Opening it, she found more detritus and no life. A child’s toy lay on the floor, covered in filth. The next room was equally unused, its contents hidden beneath dust and cobwebs. A grime-smeared window let in wan sunlight, outlining heavy, empty tables standing against the walls. The other rooms she investigated were much the same. No sign of life. No sign of use within the last few years. It was as if the place were abandoned, only the spiders left to spin their endless webs.
Where were the servants, she wondered. The other family members? Anyone? No woman of Matilde’s jumped-up station would be without a full household staff. Unless the family had truly fallen on hard times? Even then, Kye felt sure there would be a servant or two about. Someone had to stoke the fires and do the washing. Then she remembered the cold, dead hearth in the solar, and a chill ran up her spine.
A scraping sound from down the hallway caught her ear. She sneaked to the door and peered around the frame in time to see a figure disappear through a portal at the end of the corridor. There was someone else here after all! But who?
Kye crept down the corridor, drawing on every ounce of experience gained cutting purses to move soundlessly. She reached the door where the figure had disappeared and gently eased it open a crack. Stairs descended into darkness. Must be a cold cellar, she supposed. Footfalls from below told her that her quarry was nearby. She eased the door open a fraction wider, just enough to admit her body, then eased down the stairs.
The stairs ended facing a blank wall. To the right, a corridor cut from the island’s bones stretched away, punctuated by more doors. Another door stood at the far end. A torch burned in a wall sconce about halfway down the corridor, but there was no sign of the figure she had followed. She tried one door, only to find exactly what one would expect: root vegetables, onions, and other foodstuffs stood in disorderly piles on dusty-smeared shelves.
Another door yielded similar results, with wheels of cheese sitting on shelves and sausages dangling from hooks in the ceiling. The third door was different, though. A smell assailed her nose as it swung inward, the stench of aging iron and piss. The room was mostly empty, save for two or three pairs of manacles. Dark stains on the wall and in the center of the floor looked suspiciously like blood. Kye closed the door quickly.
The fourth door was the worst. The stench here was sickly sweet, the smell of meat long spoiled and maggots writhing as they gnawed. A large table dominated the center of the room. Or perhaps it was an altar. Red-black stains rain from the top down the front and sides, almost hiding a symbol Kye did not recognize. Sinuous lines curled around a central element that had all but disappeared. In the dim light, it resembled nothing more than a skull, but the proportions were all wrong. A selection of gruesome implements near at hand told the girl all she needed about the purpose of this chamber. Altar or table, this was a place of murder.
Forcing her gorge back down, Kye shut the door and moved swiftly down the hall. The only door left was the one at the very end of the corridor, and given what she had seen thus far, Kye was hesitant to open it. Still, whoever she had seen had gone somewhere, and she had to discover where. All of this mummery was for naught if she didn’t find at least some clue about Jarl’s fate.
Kye tested the door and found it unlocked. Footsteps in the dust told her that her quarry had come through here. She pulled back on the door enough to create a crack and peer through. One eye pressed to the door, she found the red-orange glow of torchlight illuminating another stairwell leading downward. “Great, more stairs,” she sighed, but pulled the door open and continued her pursuit.
This area differed from the others she had explored. It was rougher in construction, with chisel marks visible on the walls and no finishing work done. It felt older, too. The stairs wound down and down, punctuated here and there by short landings.
As she descended, the air changed. It acquired a tang that made her think of the sea. Not long after, she could hear a far-off roaring sound. There was little dust here, but she had not passed a single branching corridor or door leading elsewhere, so there was nowhere else for her quarry to have gone. The air steadily became more humid, and eventually, she noticed beads of moisture on the walls. Then there came a point where the chisel marks stopped, and she knew that she was walking through a natural cavern. The light increased, but it was not the red-orange glow of flame. Rather, it was a paler, whiter light that suffused the air around her.
Finally, the tunnel emptied into a larger chamber. Kye squinted against the light and pressed herself close to the wall, peering around the edge of the entrance. “Gods’ mercy,” she gasped as what she was seeing struck home. Below her, a broad, natural cavern opened up. Outside the tunnel entrance, the ground sloped away toward a shingle beach, lapped by waves.
Two small ships were anchored off the beach, both trader vessels by their markings. Mounds of goods were stacked around the cavern, waiting their turn to be loaded. Burly men hurried back and forth, loading cargo onto skiffs that would carry it to the waiting ships. Three men stood watching the entire affair. Two of the men were strangers; Kye judged them merchants by their clothing. The third, she recognized well enough. The last time she had seen his face, he was trying to pull Mac’s sword from his gut. Jarl Helmsworth stood there holding a canvas sack that dripped blood onto the stone around his feet.
As she watched, the not-so-dead man reached into the sack and pulled out something cylindrical and about three inches in length. Kye squinted at it, trying to get a better look. Jarl passed the object to one of the other men, who took it with a grave nod. Jarl reached into the sack once more and pulled out another object, this one semi-circular. This he passed to the other man. Both men then held the objects Jarl had given them toward the cavern’s ceiling, and Kye finally got the closer look she had wanted. How she wished she had not. The first man held a severed finger in his hand, while the second man held a human ear.
Jarl stood straighter and spoke, his voice echoing from the cave walls. “Do you swear to uphold our mission, pursue the fulfillment of the prophecy, and honor the Drowned Ones with your every action?”
“I swear by the salt in my blood,” both men intoned in unison.
Jarl nodded, and both men began eating the flesh they held. Kye gagged but could not tear her gaze away. This was why she was here. Within moments, both men began to change. Their skin loosened, and the color drained away, leaving them gray and pasty. Then their flesh began to run like melted wax, forming new shapes. Bones popped and cracked as their bodies changed into new forms. Kye’s eyes widened as she realized where she had seen that waxy flesh before. The thing in the hold of the sinking merchant ship flashed into her mind, its hideous grin stretched wide.
Then it was over. Two completely different men stood before Jarl. Without another word, both men departed, each boarding a skiff and then pushing off for one of the ships. Jarl turned to watch the rest of the loading process, and Kye knew it was time for her to leave. She had to get back to Gorm quickly. There was no way Lady Matilde was unaware of what was going on beneath her home, which meant she was likely a shape-changer herself.
She was just about to retrace her steps when a hand reached out of the darkness and pulled her backward.
Thanks for reading! I’m grateful that you’re here.
All caught up on ADTR? Why not explore something else?
The Roots That Clutch is a dark fairytale of loss and unbecoming.
A Fate Unexpected details how Kye came to be imprisoned in the waystation in the first place.
You can also check out my historical fiction work, or read the short story I wrote for Leanne Shawler’s prompt: Fitting for the Thunder God.
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Omg the whole time I was internally screaming "turn around! Go back!" Haha I am not an adventurer. The altar and the body parts ... Can't wait to find out more.
Uh oh. I hope it’s Gorm at the other end of that hand.