Death After Death

Simon spent his first few minutes on the new level just trying to figure out what in the hell was going on, and answers were not forthcoming. Up the stairs, he found a sparsely crewed top deck, and though a few sailors glanced at him disinterestedly, no one asked anything of him, which was good because he had no idea what it was he would tell them.

He learned little as he wandered around the deck beside the fact that he was on a large sailing ship somewhere at sea in the middle of the night. At least, not until he found a lively dice game going near the prow of the ship. It was there he found people who were willing to talk if he was willing to lose a few silvers, and he always was. This time, it was a little easier because he had no idea how to play this game.

He’d played Crown and Anchor, Liars Dice, Seventh Son, Fortune’s Fool, and any number of other games that were basically the same with a few minor variations over the years, but he’d never played Plunder before, and Simon was forced to endure a little mockery and a high-handed explanation before he was able to find out anything that was actually useful.

“You see, it’s not just a matter of what you roll,” the gap-toothed sailor explained, “It’s where the die lands. If it’s inside the circle here, then—”

“What kind of gambling man on a ship ain't never heard of Plunder before, that’s what I want to know,” a younger man interrupted, looking at Simon suspiciously.

“Oh, leave off!” the first sailor said, beating his junior back. It was obvious that he had eyes only for Simon’s coins. The hungry-eyed sailor would have overlooked a pair of devil’s horns if the man attached to them had a nice full coin pouch.

Simon did his best to let them empty the small pouch that was the remains of a turnip sack before the end of the watch. He didn’t want anyone to think he might have something worth stealing when he finally went to bed. He could produce more coins from his boots if he needed to later in this voyage.

It was a successful strategy, and he learned a lot. He was on a three-masted Carrack named the Sea Seraph, and she was bound for Ionar to resupply freshwater and then from there, they’d continue another week east to Abrese before they circled back and started west again.

“Sailing back and forth through the straits of Ennorah ain’t as exciting as some of the other routes I’ve been on,” an old salt said, holding up his right hand to show the three missing fingers he claimed to have lost to a cutlass, “But it pays the bills and the women by the quay is prettier than most. What more can you ask for?”

Everyone laughed at that. Unfortunately, Simon wasn’t able to learn what port they’d come from most recently because that would have instantly revealed him for the imposter he was. However, he did learn that the crew wasn’t happy that there were so many refugees mixed amongst the merchants, that was their typical clientele.

“You feel my pain, I’m sure,” Saul griped to him. “A well-fed tough like you. Your job is to watch the cargo, mine is to rig the sails, and neither one of them is made easier with brats and beggars underfoot. ”

“Of course,” Simon agreed, even though he didn’t. Getting on the wrong side of the sailors would do him no favors, though. He could ask questions of the other passengers easily enough tomorrow or the day after. They were not yet due in their port for a few more days, and apparently, the weather gauge said there was at least one storm between here and there.

By the time Simon was just getting the hang of the game, he was all out of coins, so he descended the stairs back into the belly of the ship. Honestly, he was surprised that it had gone as well as it had.

“I guess there’s nothing to be suspicious of when you’re already a week into your voyage,” Simon muttered to himself as he let his eyes adjust to the dark and looked for somewhere he might be able to curl up and disappear.

The middle and lower decks of the ship were cramped, dirty things. The fact that it was bursting at the seams with people and cargo made that both easier and harder. It might not be big enough to have cabins per se, but between the crates, there were enough nooks and crannies where different bands clung together with their own that it became easy enough to blend in. So, there were just enough people to ensure that it wasn’t possible that everyone knew everyone else, but because everything was so overfull, any spot worth laying out a bedroll in had long since been taken.

In the end, he picked his way through swaying hammocks and snoring sleepers and found a spot to lay down on top of a precarious stack of crates in the lowest deck that put him within inches of the timbers of the mid-deck. Simon immediately realized why this spot hadn’t been claimed as he rolled gently from side to side. One good wave, and he’d roll right off his little perch onto the ground four feet below. While such a fall was unlikely to be fatal, it would hurt like hell, and he had no interest in doing so.

His solution was to take off his belt and use it to lash himself to the top crate. That worked well enough, and at last, he could finally lay in peace and try to sleep, but sleep didn’t come for him. At least not quickly. Instead, he lay awake in his bunk, trying to sort out what he knew from what he merely suspected.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

He was pretty sure he’d just sprinted through three levels and barely learned a thing about any of them. Now, he was on a ship in the ocean, far from anywhere, and he had no idea where the next door was. Was it on this Sea Seraph, or was it at their destination? There were even scenarios where they encountered pirates or were shipwrecked, and the thing was on a desert island.

There was no way to know what Helades was up to here. What is she thinking? He asked himself. For that matter, what is it I’m even supposed to be doing here?

He didn’t know, but it was an odd decision. Was there someone here he was supposed to save? Some item he was supposed to steal? Pirates would be the easiest, honestly. He’d never fought on a boat before, but it looked like fun in the movies.

Eventually, Simon fell asleep, but he got no answers. In the morning, the only thing that assaulted him was nausea, and he struggled to undo his sword belt quickly enough to get up the stairs and over the rail fast enough to puke his guts out. That earned him some more mockery from those that were nearby, but he ignored them, burning a week of his life on minor healing to try to erase the sea sickness.

That little trick worked for a little while, but a few hours later, when the seas started to get rougher because the storm was rolling in, Simon was right back to retching. In fact, not long after that, the weather turned so violent that he preferred to stay on the top deck where the nausea wasn’t so bad, even if he got soaked to the bone in the process.

Better to be wet than be forced to deal with the smell down there, he thought grimly.

It was only when the ship was heaving and tossing so badly that he worried he might actually be tossed overboard that Simon finally retreated to the semi-safety of the below decks. Down there, there was no danger that he’d be tossed overboard, but staying dry was almost as unlikely as staying clean. The place was practically a moshpit, and everyone was flung around with each wave that passed by them.

Simon tried to shelter some of the children that were standing nearest to him from the worst of it but met with only limited success. Hours later, the worst of it finally passed, and everyone went to sleep. Simon vaguely wondered if that was what he was here for, but since he hadn’t actually changed anything, he found it unlikely.

The following day, when the weather was clear and calm, he finally started to make some friends. What he found was that no one really wanted to talk about what it was they were fleeing from exactly. Oh, they told him plenty of details about poverty, starvation, and persecution, but it was clear that he wasn’t getting the whole story, and that annoyed him.

Simon had been talking to random strangers and getting tales of woe for years now. He didn’t have a spell for it, but he had a pretty good feel for people at this point, and though he had no way to compel the truth, he was more than aware that he wasn’t getting it. There were a few other people vomiting like him, and some of the children were running fevers, but a few surreptitiously whispered words of healing would solve that. He wasn’t too concerned. This was probably better than average for half-starved refugees.

He spent the next two days before port chasing this down, but he didn’t get any closer. All he did manage to affirm was that if the portal was anywhere on this boat, it wasn’t somewhere accessible. It was entirely possible that Helades had put it in a crate or a trunk or something. She’d made some strange placement decisions before, and as his time on the boat began to winnow away and land crept slowly into view at the horizon, he felt increasingly anxious.

When they got close enough to the port that he could see it, that all vanished. Though the years had not been kind to the place, and the land had shifted quite a bit because of the eruption, he recognized this place instantly because he’d been here many times before. The volcano level was Ionar.

Small fucking world, he thought as he smiled and took it in.

The caldera of the volcano had partially collapsed, and the isthmus that had served as the harbor’s breakwater had doubled in size because of the lava, but the lower portion of the town was still there, and he could see bricks peeking out of the lava-drowned upper portion as well, and the partially ruined palace just above that.

Just like that, he was certain that that’s where the portal would be. Why? It was just a feeling. Simon waited for the ship to make dock, and the captain informed them that they would only be here long enough to resupply before they continued on.

“The markets here are charming enough, but if you get distracted and we leave without you, it could be weeks before the next ship comes through. Consider yourself warned!” he told everyone. “In less than six hours, we’ll be back out to sea and bound for Abrese with or without you.” he was obviously mostly talking to his crew. They were looking awfully thirsty. Simon didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was going the rest of the way on their voyage. He’d found his destination. He just had to hike up the cliffs that towered hundreds of feet above the docks.

Out of shape as he was, it took the better part of an hour to take the long winding way up the cliffside, through the ruined city, to reach the palace. The whole thing felt very nostalgic. Even though he’d last been here a few days ago, decades had obviously passed between that fiery night and the blazing sun of today.

When Simon reached the palace, he finally relaxed in the shade of a column and took in the view. The whole view had changed entirely since the eruption, but it was still gorgeous. Now, instead of gardens on fire overlooking a prosperous three-tiered town that ended at the ocean's edge, the place was an abandoned ruin, and the only parts of the whole thing that showed any signs of life were the docks, and the row of buildings immediately adjacent to them. The only reason that much still existed was because of the well, probably. He’d heard the men on board the Sea Seraph talk about how this place was just a stopover on the edge of nowhere. To them it had always been like that, but Simon still remembered it as a beautiful city, and that was enough to make him wonder just how many years had passed between then and now.

“But if I were to solve the volcano level and prevent the eruption here, then what would happen to this level?” he wondered aloud.

Sadly, he’d probably get to find out, he decided as he stood up and stretched. After all, he hadn’t actually done anything here, so unless this level involved giving a sailor drinking money or curing a child’s fever, he was definitely coming back to try again.