Tailfin waited impatiently at the docks, bright and early, precisely as discussed and agreed upon by all. He was ready. Ready for a light sail on the calm morning ocean. Ready for an adventure. Ready to find the elusive mainland that had plagued the island's desperate sailors for four decades.
Evidently, however, he was the only one who was ready.
"Lazy bloody bastards," complained Tailfin as he kicked a discarded length of rope into the water.
"Tailfin!" exclaimed a voice behind him. "You're early."
"You're not," he snapped.
Deklow shrugged it off, indicating via the vacant docks that he was clearly more punctual than the rest of them.
"It was a big night," suggested the innkeeper.
The stragglers began appearing slowly; Discreet, The Scribe, Arynlock, Merilyce, and Kyrnrie – hung over, the lot of them. Even the navigator arrived, without needing to be bound and dragged aboard against his will. And then, as casually as someone who belonged, Madrik arrived.
"What the hell are you doing here, Madrik?" asked the crime lord. "You're supposed to be staying in Helen's Bay and keeping my office chair warm."
"Don't think you're taking all the credit for yourself, Tailfin. If anyone is going to find the mainland, it's going to be me."
"Why, Madrik?"
"Why? Well, because it should be me. People know who I am. They need to know what I've done."
"They will know that you tried to take credit for something that you had absolutely nothing to do with. You didn't find any coins, or the navigator. You literally did nothing more than get in people's way wherever you could."
"Exactly," he agreed with an informatively pointed finger. "You couldn't have done it without me!"
"Godsdammit, Madrik," sighed Tailfin in resignation. "Well, I suppose if we need someone to distract the tailsharks, we can always throw you overboard."
"Hah! I'll be the one feeding you to the sharks."
"If you haven't learned from the last time you tried: that particular sentence is completely ineffective against me. The tailsharks don't eat me. And I don't drown. You might as well make me a cocktail and wave a large fan to keep me cool on a sunny afternoon."
"Don't worry, Tailfin," said Madrik with a wry grin, "I'll find a way to kill you."
"Of course, Madrik. I look forward to it. For now, shall we board the ship and get on with this?"
A few crewmen from Arynlock's ship were waiting with the tenders, and they began climbing into the two boats, ready to head out to the ship.
"Wait for me!" called Irikhart, jogging along the docks towards them.
"What are you doing here, Irikhart?" asked Kyrnrie. "Where's Ryleine?"
"Ryleine is taking Iryssah back to her cabin in the forest. I'm here because you need me. You need a hero on this... quest of yours. All quests require a true hero: noble, honourable. Someone such as... me."
Kyrnrie shrugged at Tailfin, who shrugged back in answer.
"Fine, you can come along, Irikhart. But why are you wearing that?"
Irikhart looked himself up and down. He was still wearing those tight shorts. And no shirt.
"What do you mean? Ryleine bought me these."
"And how long have you been wearing them?"
Irikhart looked puzzled.
"Fine," chuckled Tailfin as he gestured to the tender. "You're right. We probably will need a hero. Jump in."
The first tender pulled away, the gods of time and... er... taverns, on board, as well as Madrik, the navigator, and the fishergirl. Tailfin, waiting for the crew to prepare the second tender, idly watched as they paddled out into the bay, and noticed Kyrnrie standing beside him. Tailfin clapped his hand on the thief's shoulder.
"My last journey," he said. "At least I hope it is. If we find the mainland, I'm going to retire, live out my life somewhere quiet. And that upstart Madrik will be left to run this island. You're going to need to keep an eye on him, Kyrnrie."
"Don't worry about Madrik," said Arynlock from behind, "I've got my eye on him."
"So I hear," he conceded. "Well, shall we?"
"Wait!" said a voice he didn't recognise. "You're going to search for the mainland?"
Tailfin hadn't noticed the drunkard lying passed out on the dock. The man looked like he hadn't sobered up in years, and didn't have any intention of altering that pattern.
"That's right," said Tailfin. "Soon you will be able to drink premium mainland alcohol again."
The drunk withdrew an item from his pocket, something bronze and gold that sparkled in the sunlight. He observed it for a few moments with a curious expression, then he held it out for Tailfin to see. It was a compass. There was some unusual script etched onto the back of it, along with seven stars.
"I think you need me," added the drunk. "I've been trying to work out what the compass points to. And now I think I know."
Tailfin turned to Arynlock and tried to judge her expression. He failed.
"Did Deklow or Discreet mention anything about a compass?" he asked.
"No," murmured Arynlock. "But that does look... interesting."
"Alright then, Mr drunk. I guess you are coming along too."
They climbed into the second tender, and the crew began paddling out into the bay. Soon Tailfin spotted the ship they were heading towards. It was single-masted, and looked a little worn from ages fighting the relentless Whalebreaker current which surrounded the island.
"You don't have a bigger ship, do you, Arynlock?"
"I used to," she said, fixing Tailfin with a glare. "Somebody commandeered it, I understand, and lost it, along with the entire crew."
Tailfin turned away to feign innocence, and found that The Scribe was watching him, scribbling on his parchment. The man looked up at him, a question on his lips.
"You did remember to bring your hammer, right?"
Tailfin retrieved the hammer from his satchel. It was a simple blacksmith's hammer; heavy, strong, but otherwise unremarkable. Aside from its ability to destroy a Godstone, of course.
"Yes, I have it here," said the crime lord. "Why?"
"No reason, really," said The Scribe as he returned his attention to the parchment. "Just thought you might need it."
* * *
"We're going around in circles," sighed Rendyle as he stared at the chart.
The navigator had the seven coins laid out on the map and, with the help of a lantern, was alternating between glaring at the restless stars that refused to stay still, and the patterns on the coins to which they correlated.
"It'll be dawn soon," said Arynlock. "We'll be floating blind again if you don't find something soon."
Madrik stood near the bow, clinging onto the rigging, trying to appear as though his legs had been born on the sea. Beside him stood Irikhart, unassisted, perfectly balanced on the moving ship, gazing ahead as though he expected to spot the mainland any moment.
"I don't understand," said the navigator, staring at the coins, speaking to himself as much as anyone else. "Look, the coins are laid out perfectly. Here, the Seven of Storms, the stars arranged just as they are above."
He looked up at the stars again, reassuring himself, then back to the coins.
"And here, the Seven of Sands, and this constellation matches those stars there. Perfectly."
"And what's that coin?" asked Tailfin.
"That's the Seven of Sevens. It's the key to reading the rest of the coins. You see, the seven stars on this coin aren't stars, as such. They relate to the location of the other six coins and, most importantly, the mainland itself."
"So, on this chart, you lay the Seven of Sevens exactly where the mainland is, by comparing its location to the other six coins, which in turn are located by following the trails of the stars as they journey across the night sky."
"Exactly!"
"Which means," pondered Tailfin, trying to follow the logic, "that the Seven of Sevens is now laid down on this chart right where the mainland is."
"Correct!"
"And where are we?"
"Right here," he said, pointing to the same coin. "We're right on top of it."
Tailfin scanned the ocean around them, just in case none of them had noticed the mainland right in front of the ship. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing there. He sighed and searched the deck for anyone with a suggestion.
"What about you, Discreet. You're supposed to be the god of time. Didn't you foresee this? Or can't you see into our future and tell us what to do?"
"The former god of time," he corrected, then shook his head and shrugged apologetically. "I never calculated anything beyond bringing the coins and the navigator to Arynlock. I thought that was all we needed, but I was wrong about that too. I was wrong about everything. That godsdamned drunkard stole the compass from Pektyne, and forty years of intricate planning came crashing down."
"The compass!" cried Tailfin and Kyrnrie in unison. "Where is the drunk, Madrik?" asked Tailfin.
"Last I saw he was passed out below deck," said the thief. "I'll go and get him."
Kyrnrie disappeared below deck as Deklow protested.
"The compass has nothing to do with it," he said. "It's just a broken compass."
"Is it?" asked Tailfin.
"Well, that's what Discreet said."
"Discreet wasn't right about everything," observed Arynlock. "It's worth a shot."
Makyron – drunk as usual – and Kyrnrie emerged from below and met the rest of them standing around the charts. Makyron withdrew the compass from the recesses of his cloak, and laid it out on the table while all watched with great anticipation. Rendyle collected the item, studying it with rapidly fading interest.
"This compass?" asked the navigator. "What am I supposed to do with this? It's a broken compass."
"What?"
"The compass is broken."
"What?"
"It does not work," said Rendyle as he shook it around wildly. "Look, it just points in random directions."
"But," protested Tailfin, "it has seven stars on it. It looks just like the coins!"
The navigator picked the compass up and inspected the back of it, turning it around a few times in his hands.
"Not really," he said with an indifferent shrug. "It just happens to have seven stars on it."
Tailfin stared at him with an increasingly unpleasant expression. He noticed he wasn't the only one losing patience.
"Godsdammit," he cursed. "If we came all this way, only to not find the mainland, I'm going to be incredibly pissed off."
"I don't know what to say, Tailfin. I've done everything I can. I've followed the coins perfectly. We are literally right on top of the mainland now."
Tailfin stormed off towards the bow, pushing Madrik out of the way as he took hold of the stay. He sighed deeply as the sun began to crest over the horizon up ahead. His eyes dropped down past the deck, and to the water just below, the small waves crashing against the edge of the ship.
Kyrnrie took hold of the railings next to him, his eyes also drawn to the water. He turned to Tailfin with a resigned expression.
"We're right on top of it, aren't we?"
"Could it really have sunk?" asked Tailfin. "The entire mainland?"
"Well, they did say it was hidden," said Kyrnrie, nodding slowly in thought. "Perhaps this... 'He' sank it."
Tailfin turned to the two gods standing midships and called back to them.
"Could it be below us?" he asked. "Literally?"
Discreet and Deklow exchanged a silent look, which lasted longer than it should have done; certainly longer than Tailfin would have hoped.
"It... might be," conceded the god of time.
"Somebody should take a look," said Kyrnrie, his eyes fixed squarely on Tailfin.
"I'll go!" volunteered Irikhart. "See, that's why you always need a hero handy on a quest."
"Wait..." protested Tailfin, but the god of fools was not interested.
He looked as if he wanted to pull his shirt off, then, realising he wasn't wearing one, he leapt overboard. The entire crew ran to the side of the ship, and watched in silent anticipation.
A few moments later, Irikhart's head burst through the water, and he gasped for breath.
"Nothing there," he shouted.
"You need to swim a little deeper," yelled Tailfin.
"Wait!" yelled Kyrnrie as he collected a loop of rope and threw it out to Irikhart. "You need to get back on board now!"
Kyrnrie pointed to the fin breaking the water not far from the ship. A tail fin, of the infamous tailshark. A second breached the water, and the two fins began closing in on Irikhart.
"I'm immortal, remember," shouted the god of fools.
"That's what The Three thought before the hundred-tentacled hundred-eyed ancient guardian carved them into a million pieces," noted Kyrnrie.
Irikhart visibly considered that point for a very short moment, then began thrashing towards the rope. They hauled him in before he had the opportunity to test his immortality, just as several more tailsharks joined the hunt. They began circling the ship, evidently calling all their friends and relatives to join the impending feast.
"If only we had someone on board," pondered Kyrnrie aloud, "who was immortal, could hold his breath for a week under water, and who the tailsharks didn't eat."
"If only," sighed Tailfin, idly watching the gathering tailsharks.
He turned to Discreet and Deklow as he began to remove his clothes.
"If I find the mainland down there, are we going to be able to, you know, bring it back up?"
The gods shrugged.
"You two really have proven incredibly useful on this quest."
They both pointed to the coins and the navigator, who in turn, pointed at the coins and the map, holding out his hands as if to suggest he'd already done his part.
Tailfin pulled off his shoes and trousers, and, along with the blacksmith's hammer and a few blades he kept strategically hidden, placed them in a pile on the deck. He noticed The Scribe watching him, writing something down.
"What am I going to find down there?" he asked.
"Answers, perhaps," said The Scribe. "Or perhaps not."
Tailfin didn't respond, he couldn't think of anything spiteful enough to say in the moment. He glanced at Irikhart, shivering from his short swim. At least he'd tried to help. Not like the rest of these useless bastards.
He leapt overboard and hit the cold water in a rush of shock and anticipation. Below the surface, he opened his eyes and looked around him.
The tailsharks were circling him, at least two dozen had arrived, some of them easily four times as long as he was tall. As usual, they didn't move to attack him. Instead, they began circling in formation, all swimming in the same direction and forming a funnel below him.
With one last glance at the hull of the ship above him, he began swimming down, deeper into the ocean. The pressure soon began to build as the darkness engulfed him. The tailsharks continued to circle, calmly guiding him downwards. Soon, he couldn't see anything, and he began to lose his orientation. He still hadn't struck ground, and he could barely see the sharks.
He could vaguely tell which way was up, only by the distant shimmer of light.
"There's nothing here," he said to darkness. "Nothing."
He surrendered to the dark water, and began swimming rapidly upwards. It seemed an age passed by the time he spotted the hull of the ship, but eventually he burst through the surface of the water.
A crowd of adventurers and crewmen lined the side of the ship, eager for answers.
"Did you find anything?" one called.
Tailfin shook his head.
"There's nothing there," he yelled. "At least, nothing I can see. It's too dark. I could hardly tell which was down."
Tailfin noticed that there were now at least a hundred tailsharks assembled, casually swimming in circles, barely even bothering the water.
"Maybe you need something to weigh you down," suggested The Scribe with that annoying, knowing grin of his. "Something solid. Something heavy. A blacksmith's hammer, for instance."
He was holding the hammer out, pretending it was just a suggestion. Sometimes that man drove Tailfin crazy. He could just tell him what to do, instead of acting so smugly when Tailfin realised he was being led.
"Fine," he relented. "Toss it down to me."
The Scribe handed the weapon down carefully, and Tailfin grabbed it in the air. It was heavy, he realised, very heavy. He looked at it one more time, again considering how unremarkable the hammer was.
"I wonder what will happen when you put it in the water," said The Scribe, his grin growing well beyond the boundaries of his face.
"Godsdammit," hissed Tailfin, and he plunged it into the water.
Tailfin's Tale continues in All Aboard part 2 >>>