Episode 12 - General Pol

“Something is stirring up the creatures of the Lake of Mists!” Captain Darien called out from the little dinghy that brought Anusha and Rao to the shore of the Isle of the Eye. His golden-brown arms and legs boasted perfectly carved muscles. A round helm covered his entire head, including a nose guard with thick rivets around the opening, so only his lips were visible. A perfect male specimen.

Toward the back of the boat, Anusha sat. Her long, pitch-black hair hung to the middle of her back with bangs hanging just above her brow and deep-brown eyes. As she wore leather armor, her tan skin, with just a tint of orange, blended with the protection. Next to her sat Rao, a native Rirorni with dark hair but in a tight ponytail. He had a stern expression and a stiff body. Donning ringmail armor, he gripped his scimitar hilt tightly.

Anusha rose, but Darien placed his hand on her shoulder. His strong palm sat her back down. “Hold, lass.” It seemed like her shoulder melted like butter at his touch as she sat down. “We need a healer!”

Rao raised his boots, avoiding a pool of blood diluting in the swishing water at the bottom of the boat. A warrior cringed in pain and grasped his hand with two missing fingers wrapped with a makeshift bandage, soaked red. Captain Darien held another cloth dripping with blood with the missing appendages peeking through.

“What happened!” a dockworker called out.

“Sawfish attack!” Captain Darien yelled over his shoulder.

“Ah, nasty pieces of work, them sawfish. Didn’t ye tell him to keep his digits in da boat and out of the Lake of Mists?”

Captain Darien regarded the reeling initiate, and when the wounded warrior wasn’t watching, he nodded to the dockworker, his meaning clear: he had.

The shore man shook his head.

Captain Darien patted him on the back. “Don’t worry son, Lady Greywand will have you back to normal in no time. You’ll be holding a weapon again in as little as two weeks. Now, where’s that healer!”

Captain Darien threw a thick rope to a young man on the dock and said to Anusha, “Your pardon, Lady Protector, you’re the only thing keeping this boat afloat.”

Anusha looked down at her boots, one covering a gash. A sea creature had torn through the metal plate lining of their craft on their way from the other shore. “Oh yes, of course. I’m so sorry. I forgot. How foolish of me.”

Captain Darien nodded and started throwing the passengers’ luggage to the young dockworker, one right after the other.

“How foolish of me? I’m so sorry?” Anusha admonished herself under her breath. “Why am I acting like some stupid schoolgirl?” She glanced at Captain Darien and watched his muscles flex as he heaved the heavy baggage from the craft.

Rao snorted, shaking his head at the Alastarian woman, and disembarked.

In short order, only Captain Darian and Anusha occupied the boat. She asked him, “If you need to travel back across the Lake of Mists, I can keep my foot in place.”

Captain Darien stepped onto the dock and turned to her, extending his hand. “No need, Lady Protector. Welcome to the Isle of the Eye.”

“If I move, the boat will sink.”

“Ah, no need to get yourself wet.” Darien reached and grabbed her around the waist. She gasped as he easily picked her up and placed her on the wooden dock. Water began to seep into the boat from the gash. The dockworker then began to drag it toward the shore, likely to begin repairs.

Anusha picked up her gear and walked down the wooden docks, her gaze lingering on Captain Darien as he barked orders. She strolled with Rao up Willow Beach. The rocky terrain contrasted with its name. The scent of seaweed and fish filled the air.

“I bet they have excellent seafood here. A basket of hot fish and chips sounds nice,” Anusha commented to Rao as her stomach rumbled.

The sounds of construction greeted them as they entered the town. Workers scrambled across new wooden rooftops, adding to the town's lively atmosphere. The market area bustled in the afternoon sun, with vendors calling out their wares and customers haggling for the best prices. Three Shewish Giants entered a tavern with a sign reading, “The Broken Sword tavern.” The giants, towering over everything, were a sight to behold, like fully grown adults to a child.

Whistling, Rao said, “I’ve heard about them but never seen a Shew before. I’m going to that tavern. Care to join me?”

“In a bit. I want to look around.”

Shrugging, Rao entered the tavern and heard a burst of talk and laughter mixed with the tinkling of plates and glasses. The yeasty smell of ale and other hard liquors permeated the air. Rao saw a woman weave in and out between the tables. She wore her dark hair short, similar to the servant class in the Rirorni Empire.

As she approached the Shewish Giant table, she called out over her shoulder in the Khan’s tongue of Rathiri, “Pol! Three mushroom meads for our best customers!”

“Coming right up, My‑re!”

Rao followed her gaze to the man. A Rirorni, and specifically one he knew, General Pol.

As Pol glanced in Rao’s direction, his head did a double take, and his smile turned upside down.

“Rao! You son of a dog! You and your brother will pay for destroying my army!” General Pol called out and grabbed a nearby knife.

The tavern grew quiet as multiple heads, and then their eyes turned at the raised words toward Rao.

Rao touched the hilt of his sword.

Every patron rose from their seat. Their weapons rang as they drew them from their sheaths, and all eyes glared at Rao.

The serving woman, My‑re, looked around her and, in a panic, cried, “Where’s my axe?

Rao slowly moved his hand away from his blade. Realizing the hostile eyes staring at him, he began to back away when two rather large warriors came behind him. The retreat halted. Swallowing hard, Rao said, “Table for one.”