a literal road.
And he saw its awful terminus.
*****
A shouted hail pulled Japheth from his reverie. A man approached along the unlit starboard side of the Green Siren.
Japheth didn’t need light to recognize the swaggering figure of Captain Thoster. The captain sported a prodigious hat, a gold-trimmed coat that swept the ship’s deck and a slender, straight sword in a silver sheath.
With the sensitivity to magic lent him by the partial dose of dust still sparking through his blood, Japheth saw a translucent, greenish glimmer to the captain’s skin, as if just below its surface, a scale-like contour yearned for release. The captain liked to joke about his “unclean parentage.” Perhaps it was no joke.
Thoster closed the distance between them, apparently as comfortable in the dark as Japheth. Another hallmark of the, man’s tainted blood, the warlock supposed.
“Any more sightings of your pretty little ‘ghost girl’?” asked Thoster.
Japheth gave a curt shake of his head. “Sure you ain’t imagined her, bucko?” “I am certain, Captain.”
“Hmmph,” snorted Thoster, pulling out a pipe and miniature coal urri from the pocket of his great coat. “I never saw her,” he said, as if that was indictment enough of Japheth’s claim.
“She manifested once in Behroun’s office, and a second time a few days ago, as we boarded. She was standing where I stand now. I told you all this.”
“Sure you ain’t prone to imagining what just ain’t there?”
“I have an… acquired sensitivity… to things seen and unseen. She is real.”
The captain reserved comment as he skillfully lit his pipe with a cherry red ember.
“And she might be dangerous,” added Japheth, though he had to admit he hadn’t sensed any malevolence in the ghostly image. Mainly, he wanted to draw a reaction from the cocky pirate.
Thoster admonished, “Well, don’t go spooking my hands. The tars stand up well enough to most anything the sea throw their way, be it a Cormyrean merchantman or sea devils. But they got an out a proportion fear of ghosts and spirits of the dead.” He shrugged and puffed. The glint in his eye belied his easy words. He was telling Japheth to keep quiet about the topic, or else.
The warlock replied, “I am on this ship as Behroun’s agent. I don’t much care what your crew thinks or fears. If I feel something endangers the mission, I will eliminate that threat. No matter its source.”
“Easy, son. All I’m asking is you restrict ghost talk to me or my first mate, Nyrotha.”
“I’m not a fool.”
Another puff of smoke drifted into the night air, then, “Some say all who walk the crimson road are fools.”
Japheth felt a flush warm his face. How had he come to this, that the words of a pirate could shame him? He said, “Behroun warned you would attempt to bait me, Thoster. For your own sake, hope you do not succeed in rousing my ire.”
“Oh, ho!” laughed the captain. “Think I already have!”
Japheth turned away to look past the ship’s prow and the open sea that reflected a million glittering stars. He could feel Thoster’s amused regard on his back.
“Come, my friend, don’t be so sour! We’ve both knocked around the dingy corners of this bad old world, haven’t we? Who don’t have their vices, eh? If you knew half what I pollute myself with, you’d wonder how I rise each day from my cot!” Thoster loosed a hearty laugh.
Japheth said to the night, “I have witnessed the wholesale reaping of thousands who walked, screaming, to the end of the crimson road. I beheld the terror of the gnashing teeth that rim that final abyss, the maw of a demonic god-beast. Those before me walked onward, shrieking in mortal terror for their immortal souls. They marched off the edge. They were sucked down into that awful darkness and were consumed. Snuffed out forever.”
The warlock turned back to Thoster and asked, “Have you ever seen anything like that, Captain, in this ‘bad old
And he saw its awful terminus.
*****
A shouted hail pulled Japheth from his reverie. A man approached along the unlit starboard side of the Green Siren.
Japheth didn’t need light to recognize the swaggering figure of Captain Thoster. The captain sported a prodigious hat, a gold-trimmed coat that swept the ship’s deck and a slender, straight sword in a silver sheath.
With the sensitivity to magic lent him by the partial dose of dust still sparking through his blood, Japheth saw a translucent, greenish glimmer to the captain’s skin, as if just below its surface, a scale-like contour yearned for release. The captain liked to joke about his “unclean parentage.” Perhaps it was no joke.
Thoster closed the distance between them, apparently as comfortable in the dark as Japheth. Another hallmark of the, man’s tainted blood, the warlock supposed.
“Any more sightings of your pretty little ‘ghost girl’?” asked Thoster.
Japheth gave a curt shake of his head. “Sure you ain’t imagined her, bucko?” “I am certain, Captain.”
“Hmmph,” snorted Thoster, pulling out a pipe and miniature coal urri from the pocket of his great coat. “I never saw her,” he said, as if that was indictment enough of Japheth’s claim.
“She manifested once in Behroun’s office, and a second time a few days ago, as we boarded. She was standing where I stand now. I told you all this.”
“Sure you ain’t prone to imagining what just ain’t there?”
“I have an… acquired sensitivity… to things seen and unseen. She is real.”
The captain reserved comment as he skillfully lit his pipe with a cherry red ember.
“And she might be dangerous,” added Japheth, though he had to admit he hadn’t sensed any malevolence in the ghostly image. Mainly, he wanted to draw a reaction from the cocky pirate.
Thoster admonished, “Well, don’t go spooking my hands. The tars stand up well enough to most anything the sea throw their way, be it a Cormyrean merchantman or sea devils. But they got an out a proportion fear of ghosts and spirits of the dead.” He shrugged and puffed. The glint in his eye belied his easy words. He was telling Japheth to keep quiet about the topic, or else.
The warlock replied, “I am on this ship as Behroun’s agent. I don’t much care what your crew thinks or fears. If I feel something endangers the mission, I will eliminate that threat. No matter its source.”
“Easy, son. All I’m asking is you restrict ghost talk to me or my first mate, Nyrotha.”
“I’m not a fool.”
Another puff of smoke drifted into the night air, then, “Some say all who walk the crimson road are fools.”
Japheth felt a flush warm his face. How had he come to this, that the words of a pirate could shame him? He said, “Behroun warned you would attempt to bait me, Thoster. For your own sake, hope you do not succeed in rousing my ire.”
“Oh, ho!” laughed the captain. “Think I already have!”
Japheth turned away to look past the ship’s prow and the open sea that reflected a million glittering stars. He could feel Thoster’s amused regard on his back.
“Come, my friend, don’t be so sour! We’ve both knocked around the dingy corners of this bad old world, haven’t we? Who don’t have their vices, eh? If you knew half what I pollute myself with, you’d wonder how I rise each day from my cot!” Thoster loosed a hearty laugh.
Japheth said to the night, “I have witnessed the wholesale reaping of thousands who walked, screaming, to the end of the crimson road. I beheld the terror of the gnashing teeth that rim that final abyss, the maw of a demonic god-beast. Those before me walked onward, shrieking in mortal terror for their immortal souls. They marched off the edge. They were sucked down into that awful darkness and were consumed. Snuffed out forever.”
The warlock turned back to Thoster and asked, “Have you ever seen anything like that, Captain, in this ‘bad old
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