Artemian spat on the boardwalk in spite. There, five hundred yards away were the Noyran frigates and ships of the line, their broadside cannons pointed directly at Our Lady's port, silent but ready. As long as the blockade remained in place there would be no ships leaving the city.
There was a great gathering at the port as fishermen took their chances at casting their nets in the wide expanse of open water between land and the blockade. Sometimes the Noyran captains were generous but some days they used the fishermen as training targets. Artemian remembered one day how one fisherman lost his ship from a well-placed cannon round not fifty yards from the pier he had launched from. The Noyran naval force wasn't known to be grand and massive but clearly it was skilled nonetheless.
"There's talks of Swordenish raids along the coast," muttered an old man standing nearby.
His elderly friend nodded and said in his breathy voice, "Them northerners got tired of waitin', I'm guessin'. They always did like to rape and pillage, them heathens."
The first man shook his balding head. "Aye, and I've got a feeling it won't be long when they come here."
His friend sniffed derisively. "Pff, let 'em come! What in the Abyss is there to take 'ere?"
Artemian glanced around at the thick forest of masts belonging to the anchored and moored ships of all sizes and sorts, frozen in place and unable to unfurl their multitude of sails. Gulls perched in the hundreds, complaining and bickering. Mixed with the cool autumn air was the scent of salty spray, seeming fresher than usual. With so few fishermen returning with catches, or heading out in the first place, the port was mostly bereft of its usual foul, fishy scent. If there was one thing to be grateful for concerning the blockade, it was that.
As for battling it, there were few warships in port thus there was no hope of breaking the blockade from within. Fireships could be fashioned from any vessel but the Noyran sailors had proven their skill with cannons and any flaming ship sent toward them would be sunk in moments. Our Lady's only hope was for a diplomatic victory or aid from outside.
Artemian found himself reluctantly hoping that Frollo achieved a victory diplomatically. He had cleverly thought of selling some of the riches that once belonged to the Great Cathedral of Our Lady and using them to bribe enemy captains. Not all captains were so easily swayed but those that wanted to add weight to their coin purses had been gracious enough to offer some food and supplies to the crippled city. It had all been done at night and in secret but Artemian had watched it happen several times. The food and supplies were then sold, for a rather hefty price, the next morning to whomever could afford them. This often meant the peasants and commonfolk benefited little or not at all.
Artemian felt his stomach twist painfully at the realization that he was now one of the poor. He had been a hero to them and had taken advantage of their praise as selfishly as he possibly could but now he was no one. One failed hunt was all it took to bring down years of success.
How fickle-minded people are, he thought with a snarl.
The Noyran appeared to be in a generous mood today and some of the fishermen were able to cast their nets out into the water. Whether they caught anything was another story but at least now they had a chance. With no cannon fire imminent, the crowd began to slowly disperse.
Artemian remained, desperately trying to think of a way to escape the blockade. He could perhaps leave the city and steal a boat elsewhere but he needed a ship to sail to Skull Island, especially if it was surrounded by a perpetual hurricane, as said the rumors. No tiny fishing boat would do and the only ships to be found were in ports and harbors, all of which were blockaded.
"Could you spare a copper, good sir?" a weak voice asked, shattering Artemian's thoughts.
The huntsman looked down in anger at a dirty, ragged, and foul-smelling excuse of a life, on its knees and begging. The thin beggar was little more than skin and bones and his eyes were sunken deep in his skull, making him rather frightening. Artemian noticed the pointed ears and spat in the man's face.
"There's your damned copper, you wretched, pathetic elf," he snarled. "Now get out of my face before I toss you into the bay. You might have enough meat on you to feed a minnow or two."
The elf shuffled away quickly, his head hung low and his legs dragging behind him.
Artemian had always wondered why there had been never been a great hunt to eradicate the world of elves. Their glorious and prosperous past was long over and now their only purpose in the world was to annoy fishermen and sailors. If any ever did manage to attain some money, it was quickly spent on alcohol or dreamfruit. They were a blight upon the world and brought nothing but shame and ugliness to any city or town they settled in. Ridding the world of them would only better it.
But, alas, there was no reward for a slain elf, only wasted effort.
A commotion down the boardwalk caught Artemian's ear and he casually strolled toward it, his eyes on the blockade. Two men were arguing over something and standing between them was a much shorter, stockier man sporting a magnificent, braided beard of oily black.
"For the last bloody time, Al, there isn't a force in this world that would get into that damned metal coffin held together by nothing but spit and prayers!" the tallest man said before stroking his long, bushy moustache. "I can wait until this war is over and so should you!"
The other, younger man sighed but argued back, "Listen, John, I understand you but I have been assured many times that the vessel is sound and secure."
"I wouldn't fight anything with it," the shorter man grumbled in a deep, gravelly voice. "She swims just fine, though."
"I bet she sinks just fine as well!" retorted the first man.
"Well," the shortest man said with a shrug. "It's kinda' what she's gotta do, lad."
Artemian raised an eyebrow in mixed interest and confusion. He wasn't entirely certain what kind of vessel they were speaking of but it appeared that an empty seat was forthcoming. His eyes staring at nothing in particular, he listened on.
"I am not going in that failure of a contraption, Allan, and that is final!" spat the tallest man, his finger jabbing the other man in the chest. "Why risk your life in it?"
"I'm not!" said the other. "The captain assures me that it's ready to sail, or sink, or swim or um—but anyhow, it is ready! He hasn't had a chance to truly test it with this blockade in the way but I trust him, John, and so should you."
"I do trust the good captain, Allan Quatermain, but I don't trust his machine." To the shorter man he said, "I am sorry, captain, but my seat will have to remain empty. I have made my decision." Without another word, he turned and left, his face red and his eyes flaring.
"No hard feelings, John Roxton," said the shorter man, who was apparently the captain. "Take yourself good care!"
Allan Quatermain sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. "I was certain I could convince him, captain. I'm sorry."
"Bah, don't be, lad," said the captain. "One empty seat won't stop us from going to that island of yours."
Artemian's eyes widened. Could it be? Out of all the islands in Faeryum could these two be heading to the exact same one he was needing to go to? Desperate for answers, he turned to face the two men.
"Two hunters would have been better than just one," Allan was saying when Artemian approached them.
"In need of a hunter?" he asked them, emphatically rolling his shoulder and making his slung bow bounce.
The short man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Who's asking?"
"You're Artemian, aren't you?" Allan asked before the huntsman could reply. "I'd recognize that bow anywhere. I've heard of you. I thought you were hunting bounties, not trophies."
Artemian shrugged. "I hunt a bit of both. Whatever pays the most at the time."
"And what's payin' the most now?" asked the captain.
"A woman."
The captain and man exchanged a questioning glance before the former asked, "Droppin' some eaves, have you, eh?"
Artemian raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Allan elaborated. "You were listening to us talking to the other man, John, weren't you?"
"I might have overheard a few words..."
"You need a way past this blockade," the man said more than asked.
"So do hundreds of others," Artemian replied with a frown. He was growing tired of them dancing around the subject. "I heard that you have an empty seat on your ship and I want to know if I can fill that seat."
Allan and the captain exchanged a glance. The man then rubbed his stubble of a beard and pondered for several minutes. Whether it was an act or not, Artemian couldn't tell. He only knew it was frustrating.
"We could use another hunter," the man reasoned, speaking slowly.
"Aye," added the captain, "he seems healthy enough and he's got some experience."
Artemian stared at them through half-lidded eyes, growing rather annoyed with them both. "I am also standing right here. I am willing to be your other hunter, so long as I can get to my own destination as well."
"Ah," the captain said with a raise of one finger, "so now we've got to go where you want to, eh?"
"This isn't a ferry or transport ship," added Allan with a wink.
"Hardly even a ship, really."
Artemian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, struggling to subdue his budding anger. "I will go wherever you need to go and hunt whatever you want to hunt. All I ask in return is to be sent to my destination when we are finished." He would have much rather gone to Skull Island first but he was in no mood for an argument with these two.
"Well," the captain said as he folded his thick arms over his barrel chest, "where exactly are you wanting to go?"
"It's an island a few days north of Sauradia," Artemian hurriedly replied. "The woman I seek is on there."
"Skull Island?" Allan asked with wide eyes.
Artemian's own eyes matched his own. "Yes!"
The captain let out a great guffaw and spread his arms wide. "Bahaha! You're in luck, lad, that's where we're heading!"
Artemian couldn't stop a small smile from creeping on his face. "Excellent! Does this mean you'll take me along?"
The shorter man walked forward and extended a hand. "You're damned right we will."
The huntsman took it and gave it a firm shake. "Artemian."
"Captain Nemo," the other replied with a wink.
****
Much later that day, when the sun was dipping below the horizon, Artemian gathered his belongings, few as they were, and met the other two men in a shadowy area of the port. The boardwalk ended at the back of a storehouse and across from the water were the back of shops. In the dark corner between shop and storehouse were piles of discarded rubbish. A short, crooked, and cracked pier shot out into the open water and a rowboat floated beside it, loosely moored. Artemian spotted an elf crouched in the corner, wrapped in a tattered blanket, and had the urge to spit on it. He gave it a foul look and then joined the others.
"Not a friend of elves, are you?" asked Captain Nemo.
"I despise them," he snarled in reply.
"It's a shame what happened to them. They used to be so powerful."
"That was centuries ago, Nem—um, captain. They're just taking up space now."
"There is yet hope," said Allan.
"Says who?"
"There is always hope, Artemian."
The huntsman rolled his eyes and walked up to the small rowboat bobbing in the water nearby. "Is this ours?"
"She'll take us to our ship, yes," replied the captain as he tossed his own bags into it. "Let's hurry off, eh?"
"Excellent idea," Artemian said as he climbed into the boat and dropped his single bag at his feet. All he had in it was a single change of clothes, a handful of coins, his map, and a few bottles of the cheapest beer he could purchase. His bow and quiver remained on his body at all times.
When everyone was aboard and the boat was free, Allan pushed it away from the pier with an oar and began to row. Artemian gazed around, watching the sun disappear at his left and darkness creep at his right. The last fishermen were sailing to shore, most of their nets empty. In the distance, behind him, the huge, black silhouettes of Noyran warships formed a semi-circle around the bay, forming an impenetrable wall of wood, canvas, and metal.
As the boat rowed further and further from shore and closer to the enemy ships, Artemian furrowed his brow in trepidation. Turning to Captain Nemo, he asked, "Where exactly is this ship of yours?"
"Oh, we're nearly there, lad," he replied confidently. "Nearly there."
Several more minutes passed before Allan and Nemo began searching the water for something. Artemian watched them and drifted his hand closer to the dagger sheathed at his belt. Uncertain if he was being taken out to sea to be killed and robbed, he made himself ready for anything. He had little of value save his bow and enchanted arrows. Knowing that these two men were going hunting gave them reason to desire his powerful weapon and Artemian began to plan an attack strategy. Allan had more reach thus he would die first and then the captain would soon follow.
"Ah!" Captain Nemo exclaimed and pointed at something floating in the water a short distance away. "There it is, Allan!"
Allan quickly rowed the boat to the floating object and Captain Nemo reached over the edge, grabbed it, and pulled it into the boat. It was nothing more than a simple piece of driftwood with a few markings on it. It was also tied to a rope that sunk deeper into the water. The captain pulled on the rope and hauled it into the boat until it went taught. He then tugged hard on it three times, waited a few moments, and then tugged four times. With that done, he tossed the roped driftwood back into the water.
"What was that all about?" Artemian asked.
All he received in reply were two grinning men.
Artemian ignored them and peered into the water, searching for answers. He eyed the driftwood and followed the rope as it reached into the darkness below, tethered to something the huntsman could not see. With the dimming light, it was difficult to discern anything, but after a few moments passed, something dark and massive appeared to be rising to the surface. Artemian watched it with wide eyes and a quickening heartbeat, unable to look away. It was cylindrical in shape, rounded at one end and razor sharp at the other, and getting larger with every passing second.
With a cry, Artemian leapt back as a massive tube of metal burst to the surface, splashing water into the small rowboat and drenching its occupants. It looked like the bottom of a ship's hull, though it was covered in metal and had small, circular windows popping out of its sides at regular intervals. A round, metal hatch popped out of the top of the huge vessel like a pimple and it was there that Allan rowed the boat to. Beside the hatch was a larger, rectangular one, about the size of the rowboat.
"What in Ireah's love is this?" Artemian asked in wonder, shock, and fear.
"It's a ship that floats not over water, but under it," Captain Nemo replied with a great, prideful smile. "I call it a submersible, and this one here is Nautilus. She's my finest one yet."
"You have more of these?"
"Well, no...The other ones are all at the bottom of the sea, but this one, as you can plainly see, floats just fine!"
Suddenly, Artemian realized that John Roxton had been the smartest of them all. Glancing back to shore, he wondered if it was possible to swim that length with an aching leg and a bow and quiver strapped to one's body.
The rowboat bumped against Nautlius's metallic hull and snapped Artemian out of his dilemma. He'd be stuck in Frenis if he swam back now. As unknown and untested as this underwater ship was, it was his only chance at finding Selvina and regaining his life back. He would either die underwater or die at The Smiling Rat, alone, lost, and worthless.
"There's no way I'm dying like an elf," he growled before taking Allan's hand and climbing up the metal ladder leading up to the hatch. Once atop the ship, he helped Allan pull on a rope that hauled the rowboat up to the rectangular hatch. Allan knocked on the hatch and it opened inward. The rowboat dropped into the open hatch and into a lighted room within the vessel, where Artemian spotted glimpses of short, stocky men maneuvering the boat off to the side before closing the hatch once more.
Captain Nemo, standing beside the round hatch, said, "Come and meet the boys, Arty. I bet you've got a few stories to share with us, eh?"
Arty? The huntsman despised that nickname but allowed it, at least for now. "I bet you have a few yourself."
"You'd be right. Now, come, let's get some food and lager in our bellies."
To that, Artemian had no argument.