Raven Peak was a cone-shaped much like a volcano which it was not. As its name implied it was made of smooth, oily-black stone. The mountain itself was nearly perfect in shape with no ridges, crevices, or erosion scars of any kind to mar its surface, all except a long, zig-zagging stairway that disfigured its southern face. Surrounded by the Final Night mountains on all sides, which were grey and rocky, Raven Peak stood out prominently.
Deep within the mountain, a man walked down wide halls filled with stone bookshelves that rose from floor to ceiling. Rolling ladders rested on rails which flanked each bookshelf. Each bookshelf was filled with books laying flat on their sides, some newly opened, some reaching the end of their stories, and some closed and dusty.
The man eyed one shelf whose gold-encrusted label read, "Charming Family". At the top of that bookshelf were many closed books, many of which were damaged and crumbling. A few shelves below, some were reaching their end and at eye level were several books near the middle of their stories and beneath them were those that were freshly opened, two of which were still on the first page of their stories.
"More heirs for the Charming throne," the man said, watching as spidery letters appeared out of thin air on the books' pages, written by some unseen author. He shifted his attention to one certain book titled "Prince Florian Charming" and read the new words appearing on its pages. They detailed the rebuilding of Our Lady in the wake of the Black Knight's attack and how the prince would send reinforcements to the east, where ogre attacks were becoming more frequent.
On the shelf above that book was one titled "King Henri Charming" and this one was telling the story of the king rallying his men and defending one of New Alsar's walls from Swordenish invaders. Ladders were thrown down, siege towers were set aflame, and the king himself fought alongside his soldiers, boosting their morale and strengthening their resolve. The capital city of Frenis had been besieged for nearly two weeks now and the Swordenish army longed to capture it before the onset of winter. It appeared, however, that the city would remain Frenisian for another day.
The man reached into one of the pockets of the thick, black robe he wore and fingered an ivory quill he carried with him everywhere. If he wished, he could write his own entry into the story. Perhaps a piece of the wall would suddenly crumble or a Swordenish arrow found its way through the king's armour.
No, the man thought. It was no simple thing altering one's story and such a drastic change would be incredibly taxing on his body. Every altered word consumed a piece of his life force and thus if he was to influence someone's life story he would need to do it subtly and carefully. As enjoyable as it would be to read about King Henri Charming's valiant last stand the man needed his energy for someone else's story, one which he had been working on for years.
They call me the Writer, he thought with a sniff and a grin. Yet everyone here is writing their own story. I play no part in it whatsoever.
In truth, most of the stories in the gargantuan room were useless to him. Some were of simple farmers, others of bakers, cobblers, butchers, beggars, soldiers, nobles, and all manner of social ranking. The Writer was immortal but even he would be unable to read all the stories.
Yet, because of him, a certain name was beginning to appear in many stories. A Frenisian farmer was having a drink at a tavern and speaking of the Black Knight's attack, mentioning the name several times. A Kennish dockhand recalled the Black Knight's invasion of Kenmard to a visiting sailor, uttering that same name as well. In Midae, a noblewoman was speaking to her husband of the death of their king by the Black Knight's hand, mentioning the name of the one the demon sought.
The Writer paused at one book titled "Artemian Gastonius" and raised an eyebrow in interest as he read about a former crewman of Captain Hook drawing a map of possible islands the Pirate Lord Peter Pan may have visited. The crewman, named Cookie, was speaking about the pirate's appetite for fairy dust and that how he thought the most likely location was Skull Island.
Artemian was speaking now, asking if—
The Writer's eyes widened and he stepped closer to the book, intently watching the words appear on its pages.
"You think that's where he took Selvina?" I asked.
Cookie nodded, putting the final touches on his map. "Aye, the captain checked all the other islands often but Skull Island is surrounded by a never-ending hurricane and is the one island we never sailed to. If Pan took Selvina somewhere he didn't want Hook following, it would be there."
"How do you know all of this?" The simple cook seemed to know much.
"It pays to listen to folk in inns and taverns, lad. Some people's stories are full of gull shit but there are a few bearing some interesting truths. The Captain, good a man as he was, never did enough of that. He was always spending his time with that pretty barmaid of his. If he'd have listened a little more he might have gone to Skull Island straight away."
"Do you think Pan is still there?"
Cookie shrugged his round shoulders. "No one's seen the damned pirate in over a month; it's like he just disappeared." The large man then slid the map across the table to me. "There you go, huntsman, a map of all the islands Peter Pan liked to frequent, as well as I remember them. If he kidnapped Selvina he'd have stashed her somewhere on one of them. Though, personally, I'd bet my gold coins on Skull Island."
I examined the map and nodded. To my surprise, the man could draw rather well and the map was easy to read and understand. "Thank you, Cookie."
"Aye, now can I get out of here and get my leg healed?"
I waved him aside. His job was done and I had no more need of him. I also didn't know how much longer I could bear his stench. "Of course, go ahead."
"Good," Cookie said, lifting his bulk out of the chair and slowly limping his way to the room's door. "Hope to never see you again..."
"Likewise," I said, sincerely.
The Writer stepped back, his eyes wide and his heart racing. There it was. A location! Selvina's possible location! He had to tell the Black Knight of this immediately. After glancing once more at Artemian's book, remembering where it was for future reference, he hurried away, excitement building through him.
At last, he would have the one threat to all of his plans extinguished.
At last, Selvina would die.
****
Hundreds of miles away, deep beneath the sea, a dark figure slowly walked along the ocean bottom, kicking up dust with every step. Fish and various aquatic creatures swamp or scurried away, desperate to not obstruct his path.
After waiting for instructions, he had eventually heard his master's voice in his head, telling him where to go.
Southwest, to Skull Island, he had said. Selvina is there.
The Black Knight watched as scallops burst forth from the sandy bottom and jetted away erratically like hard-winged butterflies. Even the coral appeared to move aside, cracking apart and crumbling off to the side without ever being touched.
In his right hand, his scarlet sword began to pulse with heat, its length surrounded by a mass of bubbles. He gripped it tighter and stopped walking.
Enemies were near.
Like launched arrows, the mermen warriors streaked out of the darkness, long spears and blades leading the way. They zipped by, slashing and stabbing without slowing in the slightest. Underwater, the Black Knight's movements were slowed slightly and the mermen held the upper hand. Their attacks were weak but numerous and constant. They knew they could not face the Black Knight in single combat thus they resulted to multiple hit and run attacks.
Their weapons failed to pierce his armour, however, and despite their best efforts it did not take long before the bubbling, scarlet blade sliced the scaled tail off one merman swimming past. The merman, drifting away from sheer momentum, flailed his arms about in panic as clouds of red blood gushed out of his severed tail.
With a single leap, the Black Knight closed the gap and ended the merman's life with a hard stomp on his skull, huge clouds of sand bursting up from the ground. The other warriors continued the attack but they kept their distance, many of their passes only becoming harmless feints.
It was not close to the first time the Black Knight had been attacked by the merfolk. He had slain scores of them during his walk from Kenmard to Frenis. Now that he was venturing from Frenis to a lone island in the southwest, their attacks were more numerous and even more annoying. If they did not relent it would take years before he reached the island.
Summon another mount, the master's voice whispered in his head. Cease this and find Selvina!
The Black Knight paused and stood still, gathering power. It would take a substantial amount of dark energies to summon a mount but the voice was right. It was taking far too long. Selvina needed to be found and soon.
Clenching his free hand, the Black Knight surrounded himself with black tentacles of energy that burst forth from cracks in his ridged and spiked armour. They writhed and coiled around him, striking any merman warriors that swam too near. Protected from the bothersome and futile attacks, the Black Knight closed his burning red eyes and focused. He would need a mount capable of traversing water at great speed. What creature could do this? A shark was possible. A dolphin was faster, however. No. None of those would do. A demon could not lower itself to ride creatures of this world. It needed one from its own, like the knight's first hellish steed had been.
Snapping his eyes open, the Black Knight opened his hand and shoved it forward. Exploding from his fingertips, violet bolts of magic crackled outward and gathered together a short distance away. The tentacles of dark energy leapt into the focusing point of the jagged bolts, bulging it in size. Though the mermen were now free to attack the Black Knight, they floated in place and watched instead, curious, captivated and afraid.
When the Black Knight lowered his free hand, the pulsating mass of magical force lengthened in size, sharpened in shape, and began to move. When the dark shroud of energy abated, a long, serpentine creature covered in spikes, plate-like scales, and a wide fin along the length of its back revealed itself. It opened its gigantic mouth of menacingly long teeth and snapped its head with the speed of lightning.
One merman lost his life without ever knowing how.
The demonic sea serpent then burst into motion, slicing through the water like a blade and snapping its huge maw in movements too quick to follow and impossible to avoid. Within mere moments the group of attacking mermen was no more, replaced by severed body parts and dozens of drifting clouds of blood. The sea serpent then lowered itself to the ocean bottom and floated in place, obediently waiting for its master.
The Black Knight walked over, climbed behind its head, and didn't have to say anything for it to shoot away, faster than the speediest natural, aquatic animal.
Instead of months or years, that lone island was now mere weeks, if not days away.
Behind his full-faced helm, the Black Knight grinned, and the world became just a little colder.