Chương 75: 23 Under Ghost Rock

A barrel slammed down onto the deck. A tarp of gathered cold iron clattered down next, filled with sabers, cutlasses, fire pokers, silverware, nails, and, randomly, a boot—all frosted black iron.

"All right!" Felipe called.

"Come get your salt, everyone. As for cold iron, we're in short supply." Sailors and marines crowded closer, an excited murmur of anticipation rippling across the deck. Panic spiked through my blood.

"Wait!" I cried, pushing through to the front of the crowd.

"What do you think you're doing?" A Halfling sailor had already grabbed a black poker. I slapped the back of his hand.

"Hey!" He dropped the iron, recoiling. Felipe turned to me, head twitching.

"Nobody take any cold iron!" I called. A hush rippled across the deck as Submariners and Paradisians alike turned toward me.

"Tony?" Naomi asked, striding forward.

"What are you doing?" Lance leaned against the mast, folding his arms. My cracked lips pressed tight.

"Think about it, people!" I called.

"What do we know about Ghost Rock?"

"We know there are spirits there," Felipe said, scratching his head.

"A lot of them. No doubt there will be those loyal to Captain Vale—people who won't be too thrilled about us torching the Undertide. We need to be ready for them." I exhaled, rubbing my temples. How disastrous this had nearly been.

"We know very little about Ghost Rock," I announced.

"The Undertide has always destroyed anyone who's come too close. There are no standard operating procedures. We can't assume we can just sail in there and be fine." Lance cleared his throat, and heads turned toward him.

"Actually, we do. Ghost material doesn't interact with physical matter. We should be able to sail right through until we find the Undertide."

"Tony," Naomi said.

"I'm not sending my crew into Ghost Rock unprepared. We know Specters hunt there. Poltergeists, too. They need cold iron."

"Guys!" I exhaled as I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"We can't interact with Ghost Rock, but what does?" The deck went silent.

"Salt!" It was Clod, standing with his arms folded over his gut, face fixed in a permanent scowl.

"And cold iron." I nodded. In Grimton, I'd tried to use Hook and Line to pass through the Undertide. The Bane Thesis had put an end to that plan real quick when it snapped tight against spectral planks. I took a breath.

"From what we've observed, salt disperses spectral physiology. Cold iron reacts physically. What would happen when we tried to pass through a rock if everyone carried cold iron in their pocket?" Felipe winced, catching on.

"We'd rip a lot of holes in our trousers." Sailors snickered. I folded my arms.

"Try shredding holes through your body. Try breaching the ship. If you're in the hold and a piece of cold iron gets between you and the wall, say goodbye to whatever chunk you lose in the process." Lance let out a long, slow breath.

"Good catch, Tony. This may have been really bad." Felipe laughed.

"You're telling me that passing through overlapping planar materials might have unintended consequences? Who knew?"

"No cold iron," I said.

"We'll store it all in user inventories. Should we need it, we can expel it in a hurry."

"What about salt?" Elara asked. I shifted to Corin, remembering the salt bag he'd dropped on the Undertide. Corin pinched his lips.

"From what I've observed, salt scatters and disbands spiritual material; it doesn't interact with it." He dropped his hand.

"We may want to run some tests, but the physics are probably much safer. We'll want to sweep the ship for Rowan wood as well."

"Taking the ship in could be a risk," I said.

"A few pieces of unaccounted-for cold iron could cause some serious damage. We might want to strike team this one."

"Take a rowboat," Naomi agreed. Serevian dropped to a crouch over the cold iron pile. He plucked up a bracelet made of flat links.

"Or we could improvise. Secure some of this to our boots and gloves. We should then be able to walk overland."

"Or we just swim under," Lance said.

"My team and I can move pretty quickly below."

"Two teams then," Naomi said.

"We need to find the Undertide's body as soon as possible."

"Speaking of the Undertide, I think I found her spirit!" Elara's finger rose. The spectral green ship tipped from the sky, rushing across the wind as it swept in our general direction.

"Man the cannons?" Dustnose asked, tensing. I watched its trajectory path. It didn't angle at us—not exactly. Instead, it overshot us, heading toward the island.

"We're not its target," I announced as I studied its bearing.

"Vale knows he's vulnerable. He's probably moving to a defensive position." I squinted, marking the ship's path. It would carry Vale between two semi-transparent peaks. I could have thanked him for telegraphing his position. Naomi stood tall, her voice climbing.

"Elara, stay with the ship, keep the kisses primed for Ghosts. My team—we're taking a boat."

"I'm coming too, Captain," Serevian said. She glanced at Corin and me, wordlessly seeking our opinion on whether to include her cousin. My fingers twitched. Corin nodded.

"He won't slow us down. Excellent shot, too." My jaw tightened. Corin was right. It was just—I glanced at the Shad. The way the edges of his eyes tightened as he watched the Undertide shrink in the distance. Vale had bombed his city. This was personal to him. Still, without him, I very much doubted I could have gotten to Bianca in Inksprings. I nodded.

"You're in," Naomi said.

"I hope you all brought extra boots. We're going to scrape something together that allows us to walk on dry land." Lance left first, diving into the ocean with his squad of Aqua-Primords. Bebi, the ship's carpenters, and its two tinkers got to work setting the soles of our extra boots with scrap pieces of cold iron—coins, ground-down nails, and jewelry. Without forging, they cleverly equipped us with gloves inset with small pieces as well.

In the end, Bebi offered what looked like a black iron dinner tray, his warm fingers leaving a condensation print on the elementally charged metal.

"In case you need a place to sit," he explained. We stored the "Ghost Walker boots" in our inventory before descending to the rowboat.

"Did you catch where he was heading?" I asked, grabbing my oar.

"Looked like a point between two mountains, southeast of here." Naomi's lips pressed into a line.

"So we go the other way?"

"What?" I asked in surprise.

"I got a pretty good read on his bearing."

"And that's what worries me." She bit her lip.

"Vale's no fool. The last thing he'd do is lead us right to the Undertide." I chewed on that as I stroked the oar. Corin took the other and maintained my rowing cadence. We split away from the Winter Maiden, and my eyes fixed on the figurehead of the ship—Ingred conjuring an ice bolt in her palm. The ring against my chest felt suddenly heavy. The isle of the dead. She could be here.

"That's disconcerting," Serevian said. I twisted. Figures lined the beaches. Thousands of them.

"Whoa," I said, losing the rhythm of the oar.

"That's not something you see every day," Serevian said, voice low. Giant figures towered over humanoids who, in turn, stood over small folk. Every conceivable intelligent species mingled into a mob. The crowd churned, each person dragging along lethargically, every path independent. Spirits bumped into each other. Their weight shifted, but they pressed on, unoffended and unperturbed.

"Well," Serevian murmured at length.

"On any of the other islands, the population dies, and the young replace the gone." His gaze swept the bank.

"I suppose when there's no drain on the back end, an island that catches all the souls of the World Archipelago is bound to get crowded." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"Is it—safe?" Corin asked. Naomi stood. The boat swayed softly under her weight.

"Hello?" she called. No heads turned. No reply sounded. She exhaled.

"Keep your cold iron ready; that's quite the horde." I felt for the Bane Thesis with my mind, tucked securely in my inventory with my improvised Ghost Walker boots. The oar's friction heated in my hands as the paddle sliced the water. The water grew shallow. Translucent sand angled up beneath us. We should have grounded. We didn't. The boat passed through the beach, riding the water below. A chill rose under me, climbing with the jade spectral sand as it passed my belly.

"You think here, we're the ghosts?" I asked. I stopped rowing just long enough to swipe an arm through the spectral beach.

"If this is real to them, are we the specters?" No one answered. Our heads passed through the feet and legs of those wandering the beaches as the boat continued along the real seabed. Primords of every variety, Feykin in all their variations. Men and every kind of kin, mixed without order. The sand continued to rise until it buried us completely. I inhaled, somehow expecting it to be difficult to breathe. It wasn't. I glanced up. People continued to wander above, as if walking on uneven planes of light green glass.

Trees stretched up, hollow from our perspective.

"Are we safer down here?" Corin asked.

"If the ground were solid for them, would they need to dig down to reach us?" I waved my hand through stone that felt much more like fog.

"No idea." We continued to row under the forest. Then we passed beneath a hill. Animal burrows and a small cave yawned in the intangible earth and stone.

"No animals," Naomi said at length. My head shifted toward her as I pulled my oar.

"Huh?" She motioned.

"Everything animated we've observed has been sapient to some degree or another. If everything that died were to come here, where are the birds, the livestock, or anything wild?" I glanced back up at the feet of those who walked above. That was right. The burrows and dens were all empty.

"Maybe animal souls go elsewhere? A different part of the island?"

"Maybe they don't come to Ghost Rock at all," Corin suggested.

"Or—" Serevian glanced over his shoulder.

"They don't have souls." I drew my oar twice in silence before he explained.

"In Fel Rock, the negative energies channel into the bodies of the more sentient species much more easily than most animals. Cultists make far more powerful sacrifices from humanoid beings. There's a working theory that animals either don't have souls, or they're grossly inferior to ours." The whisper of oars dipping was the only sound for a long moment. A spirit overhead flared with red light. The boat rocked as we rolled into ready stances. It was a python Naga-kin, stumbling through tall grass.

The Naga-kin spirit lifted from the ground, not unlike the Undertide cutting its anchor. I blinked, rubbing my eyes. Red fog seized the translucent figure like a gauntlet before the Ghost drifted skyward. It picked up speed as it climbed, sailing away. I licked my lips.

"Um, what?" Naomi drew out her spyglass, following the Ghost's flight.

"There are others," she said.

"A lot more." I drew my oar in.

"Let me look." She handed the brass tube back. My eye narrowed, focusing through the lens. A dozen or so faint wisps drifted up from the island, drawn intermittently from various points across the island. A red haze billowed around each of them, pulling them up. Faded trajectory shafts formed in my vision. Every Trajectory Read pointed in the same direction. My throat went dry. I shifted the glass, leading the flying spirits to their destinations.

My gaze fell on two familiar, overlapping holes in the sky, harsh red luminescence pulsing through the gaps, new, longer cracks trailing from their edges. I lowered the spyglass.

"It's the breach," I said.

"It's consuming them." The boat rocked. No one said anything. Naomi's lips drew into a tight line. Serevian's brow knitted.

"Save the dead," Corin whispered.

"Vale started his attacks after the breach came. That's what he's doing—trying to stop the sky from devouring his people."

"So what does murdering Lord Bloodshackle and massacring my people have to do with that?" Serevian demanded.

"Sounds to me more like he's on a vengeful crusade. He's been untethered, and now he's waging war with the island that's responsible for his death."

"He already killed Morthrex the Glutton," I pointed out.

"Zalathor is still sealed away. It makes no sense for him to try to break him out."

"Ghosts," Serevian scoffed.

"Stuck in time. He might very well have no notion of current events."

"Oh my. Are you alive?" a voice sounded from above us, accented with university education and a Coppersmeldt drawl. My head snapped up. Two spirits glanced down at us. One, a tall dwarf with traces of Orcish ancestry; the other, a young Halfling woman. I drew out a handful of salt that dragged a fuzzy streak through the translucent earth. The stone around my hand fizzled as it came into contact with the refined powder. Naomi put a hand on my wrist, gently pushing the salt away.

"You can see us?" Naomi asked.

"See you?" The pair walked above us, pushing past wanderers to keep up.

"My dear, I can hardly believe my eyes. The living—in Ghost Rock. Why, I've never seen such a thing in all my years!"

"You can talk," Corin said, stating the obvious.

"We seem to be lost. Could we trouble you for directions?"

"I don't know, Nasir," the Halfling woman said, partially ducking behind her companion. Her accent was pure standard Paradisian.

"They could be dangerous."

"Be polite, Khory," Nasir said.

"These people need our help. We must oblige them." The strange duo stood a good twenty feet above us in the air on incorporeal earth.

"Any idea how to get up to you?" Naomi called. Nasir scratched his beard, tiny tusks peeking from his lower lip.

"There's a river up ahead. The land level drops there. I can take you." Naomi's head tilted.

"You can take us?" His hand came up, and the boat jerked to a halt. Naomi's eyes widened.

"Poltergeist." Nasir rolled his eyes.

"Please, dear, don't say it like I'm some sort of specter or banshee. Just because I practice Poltergeistry doesn't make me a monster."

"P—Poltergeistry?" Naomi glanced back toward me. I shook my head. Nasir sighed.

"Looks like we've got much to talk about." I pulled the oar all the way in as Nasir marched forward, arm extended down at us, the force of his will pushing us forward. As far as I could tell, there was nothing stopping him from capsizing us with his mind. For that matter, could he press us under the waves and hold us there till the bubbles stopped coming? The misty earth lowered again. I held my hand out, ready to summon the Bane Thesis at the first sign of trouble.

Below the ground line, the cold iron would lock in place. Above ground—I'd have options. My head broke the illusory surface, and the temperature rose several degrees.

"Hold us there, please, sir," Corin called. The boat jerked to a halt, bobbing where a ghostly stream and the ocean bed overlapped. Corin produced a tether, then a cold iron spike winked into his grasp. The Halfling woman gasped, scuttling backward. Corin stopped, showing his other open palm.

"My lady, I mean you no harm. I merely wanted to avoid losing my boat."

"Make it quick," Nasir grunted, ghostly sweat beading on his brow.

"Your iron is heavy." Corin conjured a hammer and pounded the spike into the bank. Nasir gasped, releasing his hold on the boat. The line tightened and held.

"Well, introductions first," the tall dwarf said.

"My name is Nasir Ferrant, professor of the arcane arts at the Rafael State College of Paradise. Or at least I was in my time."

"College?" Naomi said.

"It's a university now. Has been for the better part of seventy-five years."

"Has it really?" Nasir stroked his beard.

"It's astonishing what can happen while you've been dead for a century."

"My name's Naomi. This is Antonio, Corin, and my cousin, Serevian."

"Yes, yes. Well met, breathers. This is my research assistant, Mrs. Khory Sandshallow." Khory curtsied but stayed mostly hidden behind the professor.

"I hate to ambush you with questions, dear visitors, but news of the mortal world is just so hard to come by."

"Ask away, Professor," Corin said.

"Just understand we probably have even more questions for you."

"Well, of course. This is the first civil conversation across the veil I've ever been aware of. Now let's see. How are relations between the Bloodwake and Paradise? Does the cold war continue?" Naomi bit her lip before responding.

"I'm afraid the war has finally gone hot."

"Oh, dear." He rubbed his hands.

"And we're already so far over capacity. Well, what about the war with Fel Rock?"

"That war's over," Naomi said.

"Fel Rock joined the Paradise Coalition less than a year ago."

"I'll be—" Light somehow glinted off his immaterial spectacles.

"I thought for sure the Fel Court would join the Bloodwake." I glanced at the shore, measuring how solid it looked.

"Should we go for a walk?" I asked. Nasir hesitated.

"I don't know if that's possible. I'm afraid you'll just have to stay in your vessel as we—" Our boots winked onto the decking beneath our feet.

"I say." Nasir adjusted his glasses.

"Users. We have little use for politics after life, but does that make you Cousins or Exploits?" He shot Naomi and Serevian a long glance.

"Or has the Fel Court somehow gained access to a system node?"

"We're Cousins," I said, kicking off a boot.

"We're on a quest." Khory peeked out cautiously from behind her elderly companion.

"A quest?" Nasir said, his pitch catching.

"How exciting! What is this quest, might I ask?" I pulled my cold iron-shod boots tight.

"We're—" Naomi cut me off.

"Investigating the disappearing spirits," she said quickly.

"Paradise noticed our plight!" Nasir clapped his hands together.

"Oh, Captain Vale will be pleased." I straightened in my seat, leaning my forearms against my knees.

"Captain Vale?"

"That's right. The Guardian of Ghost Rock. Slayer of Morthrex the Glutton. Surely you've heard of him?" Corin and I exchanged a wordless glance.

"We know of him, Sir," Corin said.

"I doubt very much there's a child alive in a port town that hasn't heard of the Undertide."

"Yes, though I'm afraid you're too late." Naomi's head twitched to the side.

"Too late, how?"

"Captain Vale has left the island. He's gone to find a solution for the devourers." He cast a skeptical glance up at the pits in the sky.

"We need to find the Undertide's wreckage," Serevian said. Nasir hesitated before answering.

"An oddly specific request. Might I ask why?" Corin scowled at Serevian.

"Our intentions are academic, Professor," he said.

"We suspect the wreckage might hold the answer to your sky problem."

"Ah, well then, I shall guide you to it myself. Anything to help resolve this cataclysm in the sky." His words hit like a gut punch. So elderly and unsuspecting. Corin had made the right call, not telling him we intended to burn the ship.

"Great," Naomi said.

"How far is it?"

"Not far at all," Nasir said.

"It's going to be interesting explaining your presence to the guards."

"Guards?" I asked.

"Why, yes. The watch at the gate."

"The ship has a gate?"

"No, no, not the ship, Antonio. The city." He clapped his hands.

"But of course, you don't know. The Undertide physically exists within Cognicity. Home to respectable spirits. You're going to love it." <<Time to Seal Collapse: 02: 00: 03: 12: 44: 25>>