They each stared at the ship, shattered in the middle of the field, surrounded by rocks. The boards creaked against the gentle breeze, her tattered flag – a pine tree with two cross swords through it – flapped in the wind, as if waving to get their attention.
“There’s got to be a reason it’s there,” Coy hissed, walking around the outside of the stranded ship.
“Other than the fact that this mage is just as insane as over other mage I know?” Tawmis growled.
“No –tic!- offense, I know,” Blaz’tik said from behind Tawmis.
Tawmis spun and turned and looked at Blaz’tik, “Right. No offense intended. Again.” Tawmis walked around the ship, “Only a wizard would think that putting a ship in the middle of land is a good idea for a clue.”
Tawmis halted, coming to stand in front of Blaz’tik. “I swear, I don’t mean you, Blaz. I mean whoever this Key Keeper or whatever the ratling called him.”
“Rest assured – tic!- I still take no offense,” Blaz’tik nodded.
Tawmis screamed out suddenly. Taren rushed to his friend’s side. Tawmis continued to point. “Tell me I don’t see what I think I see.”
There was a statue, remarkable quality – which would not be entirely unusual – except that the statue was of the very captain of The Elf Wind slaver ship - Captain Bairon. Tawmis leaned close, examining the statue. “The workmanship is uncanny. You don’t suppose there was a statue of the captain aboard his own ship? I mean, that seems a little more than egotistical…”
Taren shook his head, his rumbling voice like thunder rolling across the heavens. “I fear that this was not fine workmanship that you believe it to be, my friend.”
Tawmis looked between the statue and Taren. “What do you mean? You can’t deny that whoever carved this thing did some uncanny work.”
“It’s the work of a medusa,” Taren finally said.
“Ma-what?” Tawmis turned around.
Blaz’tik came to stand close by now as well. “Such –tic!- creatures were thought to be –tic!- mythological.”
“Not so much,” Taren finally said solemnly. “On Maunlatore, where I live, the Medusa thrive… typically, deep inside caves… if they don’t get you with their poison tipped arrows… or their poison tipped nails… or the snakes on their head… there is their gaze… which,” Taren gestured towards the statue, “causes petrification – as in, changing flesh to stone.”
“So you’re about to tell me you think this Key Keeper or whatever,” Tawmis muttered, “has some kind of pet Medusa and used it to make this slaver – not that he deserved any better, being a slaver – into stone?”
“That would be my guess,” Taren nodded, looking around. “We haven’t seen any wild life turned to stone; so I suspect that the Key Master utilized the Medusa for a very specific purpose.”
“Like putting the slaver’s ship in the middle of this clearing,” Tawmis growled. “Because what would be the purpose of –“ Tawmis’ hand brushed against something. He looked. There was a note in the statue’s hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Tawmis reached over and unrolled the parchment, “It would seem our host has left us another clue.”
He read the note aloud:
“The second most precious thing in life for a seafaring captain is his sword, because without it he cannot command his crew. Thus, upon losing his weapon somewhere on Shipwreck beach, he lost what is most important to him: the respect of his crew.”
“It would seem –tic!-,” Blaz’tik thought aloud, “that we are to find this slaver’s sword –tic- and place it in his hand –tic!- where the note was.”
“This is getting ridiculous,” Tawmis growled. “I almost wish I was still imprisoned in Grimrock.”