The Deepcombers

Chapter Three

In an afternoon of surprises, Lon was sure this was the most terrifying revelation possible. If Hastegus was correct, then one of them would die on this stone circle this hour and right before everyone's eyes.

Was this relic the reason why the Crols required the Prince's cog? Was it why they were all bound for the Port of Ligne? If this thousand-year old object could make wind, then why hadn't they used it earlier? Lon glanced around to see if the others had figured it out. Hastegus looked really scared.

The Altar of the Aquatic stood eight feet tall and inside the ring were footrests and hand grips and a keystone headrest; all that was required to string-up a sacrifice inside its stone circumference was provided.

Hastegus appeared to know a lot more about the wicked thing but he stayed silent and prayed into clenched fists. He didn't share any wisdom that might have helped others comprehend what they witnessed. Lon reckoned the book dealer believed he'd be the likely sacrifice because of his tattoo. The silver circle on his forehead made him special and now it marked him for death. Others also believed this too for they caught his eye and nodded goodbye. Tharus cleared his throat to break the awful silence.

Once the swampkin had collected everyone's eyes he opened his palm to reveal his own homemade secret. The terrified reptilian showed everyone the crude lockpick he'd whittled from a beef bone. "We can leave whenever we like," he hissed.

"And go where?" Jarl waved at the open sea in disgust.

Hastegus nodded to show he appreciated the contingency as he closed the lizard's hand. "Not yet."

"Keep it hidden," another commanded. They'd use it once they'd spotted land. Lon realized they were going to leave him behind. Everyone could see how crippled he'd become. He'd be sidelined and nobody would waste time unlocking his shackles.

When everyone's gaze turned back to the weighty object, the young lad looked down at the cuffs on his ankles. His eyes grew moist and he became sad. He remembered his mother's words. "Come back soon and we'll show them." 

The stone circle was set at the bow of the ship and Clyde of Barobell directed just how it was to be secured. He showed the sailors how to mount it upright and where to lash the deck chains. Minister Horne stood nearby with Paulus Linton and the two churchfeigors clacked like schoolboys about to fly a kite.

Clyde looked up and casually requested something in Crolean and the words he used were translated as sea drover.

To nobody's surprise, Minister Horne pointed toward their line. So it would be Hastegus after all. The book dealer thought so too for he bowed his head in a last-minute prayer. He'd predicted this would happen. He'd told them all he was special and that he'd be transformed before their eyes. The dashing heretic believed he was about to start an epic journey that would see him rule all Tokal as the Creator's supreme representative. But it was hard to fathom how he could survive this...

Lon looked up and froze in terror. Minister Horne pointed at him.

"Here is our Sea Drover," the high priest said. "This one who pulls so hard." He eyed Lon and spoke again in the common language, "there's something special in this one."

"Me?" Lon asked. The full horror descended.

To be the sea drover could only mean one thing; he'd become the sacrifice the artifact demanded. The supreme leader who'd been so kind and who'd helped him up the ladder had now marked him for death. The bucktoothed lad opened his mouth to protest but he couldn't find the words.

The other captives also understood that Lon had been selected. Jarl and Tharus shuffled away and Hastegus breathed a sigh of relief but then seemed conflicted. He wanted to speak up, but couldn't find the courage.