Where the Wicked Swim

Beyond the black wood was an old castle, ravaged by a murder of crows.

“The wicked swim below, Kristian,” an old fisherman said, sharpening a set of harpoons. “The sea is dead today, and the air is still.”

“Your right,” Kristian replied, peering down into the blue depths of the Kansvivikan Bay—he shivered at the thought of swimming, much less being around a large body of water that wasn’t his bath. “Who are the wicked though?”

The old fisherman shrugged. He placed down his harpoon and grimed at Kristian. “Beauty,” the fisherman said. “Beauty that is attainable but forsaken.”

Kristian perked up, furrowing his brows as the fisherman drew a malignant grin that revealed his filed teeth. He pulled a pouch of 'black snow' from his pocket and rubbed it all around his gums.

“Here,” the fisherman wheezed, placing the pouch into Kristian’s hands. Kristian swallowed the slither of vomit that came up when the fisherman spat out a thick, bloody slab of saliva near his feet. He cleared his throat and swiped the pouch from his hand. “Why, boy?”

“Excuse me?” Kristian responded.

“Why do you want to know who the wicked are? Your nothing but a scrawny ponce!”

“Ponce? Me? You can't insult me like that!”

“The wicked can, watch yourself. You are nothing but a ponce!”

“And your nothing more than a smackhead!” Kristian exclaimed. He tilted the small rowboat they were in and he panicked. “Something just touched the boat! Something just touched the boat!”

“I told you,” the fisherman laughed, pulling Kristian back down. “Fucking. Ponce. The wicked aren't worth your time.”

All Kristian saw was red, as the fisherman’s pathetic laugh spread to the dock nearby and to the ship on the horizon, not too far from their rowboat, throwing insults at Kristian. Despite this, the worst thing they could do was throw him into the water; Kristian could take a few punches and insults here and there. If you put him in or near water, however, that was a more tragic story. Kristian shut his eyes and covered his ears and tried to block the muffled laughter out. He filled his mind with happy thoughts, such as finishing that story he hasn’t finished or better yet! He would be a successful author and write many books he hasn’t started yet! But when all the noise turned into echoes of the sea, his greatest fear came to ruin.

Harpoon. An Eriel whispered, through the waves crashing on the shore.

Send it down. Another one harkened, creating soft ripples around the rowboat as the fisherman laughed obliviously. Open your eyes.

Kristian opened his eyes and peered over. His eyes widened as a legion of humanoid beings with long fin-like tails lurked below him; swimming around each other in a downwards spiral into the blue depths.

The crow hunts us! Harpoon! Send it down!

“The crow?” Kristian bit his lip and felt a sudden urge to look back at the shore. There, he saw an omniscient figure on horseback shrouded in an iridescent black cloak. The Crowhunter watched Kristian and the fisherman from the natural steps above the shore waiting for his mark.

The adventure you seek is within your grasp, the Eriel queen whispered, through a powerful ripple.

“What’s the matter? Is this not the adventure you wanted?” The fisherman weezed once more, punching the ground in between him and Kristian.

“Do you not hear the voices?” Kristian shivered, as thunder rolled in the distance.

“Voices?” the fisherman chuckled. He put his hand behind his ear, adding, “I hear no voices you ponce.”

Kristian, the Eriel queen beckoned, calming the sea. You have something to prove, no?

“You don’t hear the...voices?” Kristian perked up, narrowing his eyes. The fisherman put his hand behind his ear again and listened to the sea with nothing but the waves crashing on the shore and the crows cawing with their kin. He shook his head and grinned.

“I hear no voices, only the sea,” the fisherman snarked.

Unleash yourself! Send down the harpoons before the crow comes! The Eriel queen’s voice sent small waves and much larger ripples above, echoing through Kristian’s mind.

“That’s it!” Kristian screamed. He jumped up and grabbed a harpoon from the fisherman’s feet. “To hell with you all! I’ll show you who’s the real ponce here! Even the man who's twiddling his thumbs on the shore!”

As Kristian’s rage turned into pure adrenaline, he thrust each of the fisherman’s harpoons into the sea, trying to hit one of the dark outlines below him. He missed every shot he had, and the fisherman stood two inches taller than he did.

“What did you say?” The fisherman growled, pulling a shiv from his pocket he made a deep incision across Kristian’s cheek and pushed him back down. The Crowhunter’s mount, Duma, whined and curled her upper lip.

“Calm, Duma,” The Crowhunter whispered, rubbing Duma’s side. Onlookers from the town piled up near the docks, watching Kristian and the fisherman have at it.

“I’m sorry! I-I don’t know what got into me!” Kristian cried. “It was the voices, you have to believe me!”

Hush, Gauti, the Eriel queen murmured. Look into my eyes, and be still.

The fisherman dropped his shiv and felt fearful despair—he looked at Kristian and slowly peered over the boat and saw nothing but the dark below. Kristian frowned as the fisherman’s breathing grew heavier, and his tears fell into the sea the longer he stared into the abyss.

Be still, the Eriel queen calmed the sea once again.

“Now do you hear them?” Kristian asked.

The Eriel queen threw one of his harpoons back at the fisherman, lodging it into his skull. People at the docks and above the shore screamed, many of them in shock.

“Gauti’s dead lads!” a dockhand screamed.

“What? How?”

Kristian froze listening to the fisherman’s faint, tight last breaths as he fell overboard. Kristian watched the fisherman’s body get pulled down into the bay by a myriad of Eriel’s. He looked back at the crowd who had already called the town guard, then to the Crowhunter who was off his mount, however, he stood there watching.

This isn’t happening, Kristian thought, recollecting himself. The Eriel queen crept out of the water and placed the harpoon back into the boat; she put her hands onto Kristian’s face and healed his wound—staring deeply into Kristian with her four opal eyes. Her skin was a light irradiant violet and blonde wisps of hair trickled down her face. Kristian tried to scream, however, her hypnotizing gaze wouldn’t allow it. She kissed him forcing him to kiss her back.

“Who is she?” someone shouted among the crowd.

“What is it, should be the question to ask! The boy just kissed the thing!”

The Crowhunter took off his cloak and dark leather armor leaving only his shirt and pants, he waited.

“Silumbra. Aousdite me,” (Silence. Listen to me.) the Eriel queen whispered. “Ālin parmea bambi.” (Leave my children alone.)

The Eriel queen pulled away from the rowboat and glanced at the Crowhunter, vanishing into the sea. There you are, the Crowhunter thought, unsheathing a short sword from his saddle he walked into the ocean with it in hand. The hunt has begun.

“Wait, who’s that going into the water?” a dockhand cried, as everyone diverted their attention to the Crowhunter who was already knee-deep in water as everyone shouted at him.

“Get back to shore!”

“Where did he come from?!”

“He’s gone under!”

Kristian scattered to the paddles and quickly rode towards the docks. The Crowhunter swam deeper into the ocean, staying close to the surface. The Eriel queen swam towards The Crowhunter faster than any aquatic animal known. He readied his blade and stabbed the Eriel queen in the stomach, dragging her deeper into the dark. Other Eriel attacked The Crowhunter from behind and pulled him and their queen deeper into the abyss. They scratched and chomped on the Crowhunter trying to make him let go of the shortsword, however, he pulled a knife from his boot and grabbed the queen’s head back by her hair; stabbing her repeatedly until there was a blinding fog of blood. On land, the crowd was restless as they tried to process what they saw; two guards on horseback forced their way through the crowd, trying to assess the situation. Staltrev did the talking while Bennett kept the dockhands and townspeople in check, however, they had little luck in getting any information as to what they were getting into.

“Northerners and their damn omens,” Staltrev scoffed, mounted high on his horse. “Bennet, look through the madman’s saddle and find out who he is.”

“Aye, sire,” Bennet responded, heading down to the shore.

Once more, the townsfolk witnessed another horror; pointing at the ocean as the sea turned from blue to crimson with thousands of dead Eriel emerging above the crowd was speechless. No sound but the waves crashing on the shore; the sea was dead, and the air was still.

Impossible, Staltrev thought, as The Crowhunter emerged from the crimson sea breathing heavily. Blood rushed from his wounds, he made his way to shore with the severed head of the Eriel queen and looked at the crowd, then to the guard looking through his saddle.

“Great,” he groaned, as Bennet dropped his saddle to the ground. “What do you think you’re doing?” The Crowhunter said, approaching Bennet. He was a rugged man, with dark shoulder-length hair, piercing white eyes, and a strong physique. He picked his saddle up and put it back on his horse. Taking a loincloth, he dried his hair and used the remaining bandages he had to cover his wounds while Bennett stood in shock of the Crowhunter’s presence.

“What?” the Crowhunter asked, putting his armor on.

“I… I uh,” Bennet mumbled.

The Crowhunter shook his head as he wrapped the Eriel queen's mouth with the leftover bandage he had, and hung it on his saddle as a trophy and mounted Duma. Droplets of rain came down as Marion put on his hood, Bennet looked at him and asked: "Who are you?"

"I'm Marion. The Crowhunter."