Turmbaig

Night is given a skewered light by the ragged skyward bodies that pass for clouds; it is not a light to run by if one does not know his way around.1

Murron learned this the hard way, the moment she took flight from Tostig’s expedition. A terrible storm had whipped up just after she lost sight of her suitor’s campfire, and now her fine dress was stained with mud from countless stumbles. Her expensive shoes from Whitred’s shop back in the old land were lost forever in the softening mire.2

She feared she may soon follow them into oblivion.3

Murron had been confident that the storm would aid in concealing her flight from the arranged marriage to Tostig. Now, however, she would give anything to be back at camp with that arrogant fool’s hands all over her.4

If I could only find someplace to hide until the storm passes, she thought, climbing over the mossy surface of a fallen tree, I might stand a chance of escaping…but to where?5

In the back of her mind, Murron tried to stifle the thought that the man from which she fled was probably the one person who could find her just about anywhere on the continent. Tostig was a young explorer who had helped chart much of the new land. He had, according to him and his crew, discovered a frozen wasteland far to the north, beyond the Turmbaig, where the permafrost concealed vast hordes of gold. The location was kept secret to prevent others from cashing in on his find.6

This journey, an overland trek, was an attempt to map the interior of the north, to say nothing of Tostig’s desire for further exploitable riches.7

With a breathtaking flash, a bolt of lightning lanced down from the skies and laid down a tree in Murron’s path. Cold, whipping water beat over every inch of her. The wind was a howling creature that whistled doom as it rode through the sky.8

“Somebody help me!” her voice barely touched even her own ears over the chaos. “Is there anyone out there?”9

Murron stumbled back the way she had come – or at least, what she thought was that way, for no trails had been yet worn in this region – giving up all hope of further progress. There had to be somewhere she could wait out the storm.10

“Murron!”11

She froze. Had she imagined her name in the furious storm?12

“Who’s there?” she called. She still had trouble hearing her own voice.13

“Murron! Young mistress, I hear you!”14

She tried to block the rain with her hands, to see the source of the approaching voice. It could not be Tostig, for his voice would hold more fury.15

“Murron, I see you! I’m coming, young mistress!”16

Within seconds, she found herself in the arms of one of Tostig’s highest men, Fjandi, as he led her along a route he seemed to know. She began to worry when the trees thinned out and gave way to stronger winds, but quickly they were within the dry sanctuary of a small hill cave.17

***18

“I’m sorry I cannot ease your shivering, my lady,” Fjandi said, noting how she shook in her wet clothes, her brown hair tangled and clinging all over her, “but I should lock meself up in a madhouse if there be a spot of dry wood in this forest. No fire to be had.” He smiled wide.19

“It’s all right, F-F-Fjandi,” Murron stammered. She wasn’t worried so much about the cold as she was about what Tostig would do to her when he found out. Fjandi hadn’t asked what she was doing out in the woods, however. It was strange, but he didn’t even appear to care.20

He looks happy enough, anyway, Murron thought. He seemed to have trouble removing the large smile from his face.21

“How long have you been out here searching, Fjandi?” she asked.22

“Quite some time, I should say. About since the storm started up. Cap’n Tostig was powerful upset when he saw you was gone. May be a touch angry on your return, though that’ll pass, probably.”23

“Fjandi,” she said his name, and the smile returned big as ever. She turned her gaze away, slightly unnerved.24

“Fjandi, how well do you know this area?”25

“Oh, well Miss Murron, most o’ the north is uncharted, you know. But, your little sojourn has taken us rather near the coast, and I believe the Turmbaig’s not far off. Cap’n Tostig’s great expedition sailed right through that area and landed ‘long the coast here many a-time, so we’re likely near someplace I’ve been before.”26

“Ah,” she nodded, quickly glancing at his face. His smile wasn’t quite so big now, and he was looking out at the storm. She realized this man knew all about what really went on during Tostig’s great (and, in many minds, alleged) discovery.27

“About that great expedition of his, Fjandi,” she began, “you know Tostig can sometimes…exaggerate. Did you really find as much gold in the frozen lands as he says?”28

“’Salright for you to wonder, Miss Murron, but sadly I don’t know the answer.”29

She was taken aback. “You don’t?”30

“Not I,” he replied, and smiled again. “We were grounded and froze in by a blizzard up there, and were nearly a week in breaking the ship out again. Round about the third day, these odd-lookin’ people came over the tundra, wearing furs of white wolves and carrying spears tipped with obsidian. They were dark of skin and rather short, but powerful fellows. Most catching, though, was their jewelry: amulets, bracelets, earrings, all fashioned of gold. Natur’ly, Tostig asked ‘em where they got it from.31

“They said they’d only show him, and no other man of the crew, where it was located. Everyone said not to trust ‘em, but your betrothed went on ahead anyway. They was gone for the better part of the day and night, and we was getting ready to send out a search party. Finally, they come back early in the morning, and Tostig says that we’re all gonna be filthy rich when we get ‘round to harvesting the stuff. Might have to kill the snow folk, but it’d be worth it since the very ground was filled with caves of gold, he says.”32

“You’re joking,” she said, wide-eyed. “Tostig’s great fame is based on a horde of gold that might not even exist?”33

“You said yourself, my lady, that his tongue can often be tall.”34

“Fjandi, listen to me,” Murron looked at him as seriously as she could muster; still, he wore a large grin. “when that storm lets up, I’m not going back to Tostig. Do you understand? I don’t care what I have to do, but I’m not going to be married to that liar.”35

“Aye, my lady, I read you. Matter o’ fact…,” he leaned in closer, as if to avoid conspiring ears, “I know someplace you could go and hide.”36

“You would help me run from your own Captain?” her brows furrowed; she felt certain Fjandi would have bound her hand and foot and dragged her back to Tostig, eager for a reward.37

“Women of me own blood have been forced likewise, Miss Murron. It’s a right unfair thing for you to marry and bed a man not of your liking. I’ll take you to a little fishing village just south of the Turmbaig, and you can get yourself a ride back home.”38

Outside, the storm had noticeably calmed. Murron needed little time to decide.39

“Alright. I’ll do it.”40

***41

The storm ended only minutes later, and the morning sun crept through the damp treetops to illuminate the muddy mess from the night before. Murron, still without shoes, found a small waterfall in which she washed her soiled dress, and looked into her own green eyes as she braided her long hair in a reflecting pool. Fjandi always lurked nearby, sometimes going out of sight to find food, never returning empty-handed. He was quite the outdoorsman.42

And judging from the enormous smile on his face, he seemed to be enjoying his success.43

By mid-morning they were well on their way. The forest still surrounded them, but the calls of seagulls and faint sandy footprints of woodland creatures betrayed the close presence of the coast. After a time, Murron even noticed bits of shells here and there. She stopped once, to pick up a whole conch shell, but Fjandi never stopped to take notice and she had to leave it behind.44

Crashing waves could be heard off to their right about noon; Murron wondered if they shouldn’t be heading south, with the ocean on their left, but she hadn’t been shown a map at all while with Tostig, and had utterly lost herself when she fled. She had no choice but to trust Fjandi.45

It was about an hour after noon when finally Fjandi led the way out of the forest and onto the warm, sandy beaches. Murron was relieved to feel a benevolent wind caressing her heated skin and tired muscles. Fjandi, however, appeared displeased for the first time since he had rescued her.46

“To the coast indeed we have made it, my lady, but I find that I don’t recognize the place. Much of the beach in this region is without landmarks, so I’ve no clue exactly which way to head for the fishing village,” he pointed toward a great cliff that rose above the beach farther north. “I believe we should trek up there and I’ll see what I see.”47

So it was; they trod along the sun-dried beach, heading for the cliff. Murron made the walk more interesting by studying the many shell pieces strewn along the beach, watching the tide take some and leave a few. She began to marvel at how many pieces were clearly identifiable as huge, colorful conches. This new world certainly had a strange abundance of beautiful shells.48

The tide was low when Murron followed Fjandi back into the forest and uphill, towards the top of the cliff. The forest became thick again on the slope, but there were curiously still many shells, both complete and in fragments. Murron had to keep special attention on her foot placement to avoid cutting herself.49

“Here we are, my lady. The view is beautiful.”50

A mighty wind nearly sent Murron sprawling backwards down the hill. She wrapped her arms around a tree trunk, and looked out off the edge of the cliff.51

The sight was so incredible, she could not scream.52

Below them lay the mysterious Turmbaig, the Bay of Towers. It could not be called a bay at the moment, however, as the very sea itself had retreated nearly to the horizon, revealing the blackened, soggy mass of the continental shelf. Beyond that dropoff point, the waters still mercifully concealed what lay even deeper.53

The great and terrible stone ruins that had protruded from the water were worn and covered with undersea fungus. What surfaces were visible bore carved depictions of strange crustacean beings emerging from the confines of conch shells. Shells carpeted what had been the sea floor. Some of these, terribly, squirmed and writhed on their own power.54

“Welcome to the Turmbaig, Miss Murron,” Fjandi said. “You are about to have the honor of becoming the first female vessel in your civilization.”55

From behind him scurried several of what had to be the crustaceans depicted on the ancient stones below. Far more hideous than the sculptor’s renderings, they dragged themselves along the forest floor awkwardly, but with purpose and agility.56

“The more you resist, the more painful it will be,” Fjandi said, the huge smile frozen on his features. “Just try to relax.”57

One of the creatures lurched forward on its large claws and spindly legs. Its flesh and muscle began to stretch as it pulled itself out of its conch shell.58

“Fjandi, you mutinous bastard!”59

Fjandi’s head turned quick; the smile disappeared from his face just a split second before a blast of gunfire took off the top of his skull. As his body collapsed, the remnants of a small crustacean being staggered out of his mangled head to die on the forest floor.60

Murron turned away from the corpse to see Tostig racing up the hill armed with pistol and sword, one of his men close behind. He wore a look of mad frenzy on his face.61

She had no idea what she should say as he approached; that didn’t matter, as he sheathed his sword and slapped her across the face, sending her to the ground. She sprang up when she felt the edge of a shell touch her arm.62

Tostig backed her against the tree, his hand against her throat. “So you would leap up that I might strike you again, eh? Well, I’ve a mind to do so all the way back to camp! You would dare think to –,”63

“C-c-captain!”64

Tostig turned aside, his hand pinning Murron to the tree so that she faced away from the Turmbaig. It saved her life.65

From the deepest crevices of the sunken city came a high, powerful shrill that throbbed throughout the air and earth. The cliff trembled, and the ocean tossed with the fury of a mythical tempest. Tostig and his man screamed in mindless terror; the hand left Murron’s throat.66

She turned about to look at the bay, just in time to see the ocean surging back to its former level, concealing the horrors that lay beneath. Amongst the chaotic swells, she thought she spied the tip of a massive red antenna sinking below the distant waves. Whatever the men had seen, it had retreated back to the deep.67

And the men! Tostig’s companion writhed wildly, screaming as he clawed at his own eyes. With blood cascading down his face, the man teetered on the brink of the cliff, and released a final, agonized cry before disappearing over the edge.68

Tostig thrashed about on the forest floor, cutting himself open on the shell fragments there. He pulled at his hair, ripping large bald patches into his scalp. These men were explorers, who dealt with the unknown as a profession! What horrible sight could possibly drive them to insanity?69

One of Tostig’s hands shot out and grabbed his pistol, and Murron fled; tears ran down her eyes, and shell fragments bloodied her feet. Still, she made it to the beach, and ran south as far as she could before collapsing of exhaustion.70

***71

The next day Murron awoke and continued south along the beach; she was picked up by a fishing vessel in short order. The captain of the boat personally paid for a room in the small village where he lived – possibly the village Fjandi had referred to, despite the fact that he had tricked her.72

Early the next day, Murron awoke to a good breakfast and clean clothes, and the start of a voyage home. The past few days had wreaked such havoc upon her, however, that her spirits remained low. Once she returned to her father’s manor in the town on the riverbanks, she would be faced with a massive inquiry. She tried to put that out of her mind. To think about it was to bring on tears and fatigue.73

The vessel moved out of the fishing village almost as soon as Murron got settled in her small quarters. It was a room with a bunk bed, normally suited for crew, but the hardy sailors insisted they would sleep on deck to give the troubled lady a place to lay her head. Murron eventually felt stifled, however, and chose to go up for some fresh air.74

Murron had barely poked her head out on deck when she froze in utter terror. The captain was speaking to a passenger whose back was turned towards her, and she thanked Fate that neither of them saw her there. She continued watching, however, as the men conversed and moved about the ship.75

“So, you’re heading back down south to the town, eh stranger?” the captain enquired.76

“That’s right, my friend,” the voice was far too smooth, too even. It could not have belonged to the same fiery mind that had commanded it days earlier. “Got a woman down there set to be my wife.”77

“Ah, congratulations, Mr., ah…forgive me, I’m terrible with names.”78

The man turned around to regard the aft end of the ship; Murron stuck her head down and retreated to her room, where she shut herself up for the rest of the voyage. She remembered the day on the cliff, and the creature pulling its hideous body from the depths of the conch shell. The mad Tostig had flopped about on the ground, and she had not kept track of the crustacean monster.79

The sight and sound of the man on deck kept replaying themselves, all the way back home.80

“The name’s Tostig,” said the tongue that once gave voice to human thoughts. The mouth curved up and out, into a smile far too wide for a normal human face. “I’m something of an explorer.”81