Interlude by mentos987

He hadn’t yet mastered playing the flute but he was getting better, it was enjoyable enough and he was getting paid to learn it. The new Sommarlandian masters had a long list of things they wanted him and his crew to learn in order to improve productivity. Swimming and diving were particularly important for the current assignment; even the flute would be needed.

He sits in a rowboat with two crewmates that he knows as Mort and Vildbjorn. They know him as Johna, although this isn’t his real name. The small boat is gently rocking in the waves, causing a lapping sound and a relaxed mood in the three men as the day grows late. If Johna squints his eyes and looks towards the sunset he can see a tiny rock islet protruding from the sea, on top of this rock sits the fourth crewmate, Loa.

They have been out here for hours, at first spending the time to get acquainted with the surroundings and to talk strategy. Now they are waiting. Mort has brought actual fishing equipment and is busy building up a small haul of fish that he plans to cook when they get back on land. Vildbjorn did swim around for a while but is now lying in the bow, his head resting on the railing, looking down into the water. Loa had swum out to her ambush spot about an hour ago and is now enjoying the last warmth of the setting sun.

As Johna continues his tentative flute playing he also starts reminiscing over the last year. Him and his crew had been together for nearly a decade now and had been struggling for a long time, but eight months ago things started to change. They started receiving a lot more letters from above and the variety of the communication changed as well. Where there had only been terse orders before there were now suggestions, requests and detailed information about the jobs. The explanation for this had arrived half a year ago, with an ultimatum. It turned out that the normal communication had been intercepted and that, for the last few months, they had been taking orders from new masters.

Their new masters are the Sommerlandians, a large conglomerate with the wealth, knowledge and power to exert their will anywhere in the world. They had offered to retain employees on the condition that they followed new rules and a new creed. Johna and his crew graciously accepted, having enjoyed the last few months and not wanting to go the way of their old masters, who had vanished.

“I see it.”, said Vildbjorn, interrupting Johnas thoughts and his playing. The ship they had been waiting for had arrived.

The current assignment had been handed over a week prior and contained a schematic of a ship, two vials filled with some liquids, a drawing of a fat man and a nautical chart for the local area, with relevant water depths marked out. It also contained a step-by-step execution plan, written in great detail, and a greasy metal cylinder, that had turned out to be an incendiary device.

The plan was meticulous, every step thought out and every mishap provided against and taken into account. The location chosen was remote, with the nearest village an hour walk away. It was also a predictable ship route, since the local reefs and isles forced seafarers to move in a strict path that was conveniently close to land. The arrival of the ship happened just as the letter foretold. The Sommarlandian had laid the perfect groundwork and provided them with the perfect tools, now it is their turn to earn their coin.

Johnas stood up, facing the small sunlit silhouette that was Loa, and started waving. After half a minute of this, she waved back and slid down to hide in the shallow waters behind the rock she had been resting on. The plan is now in motion. The first step is for the three men in the rowboat to act as an innocent distraction until the ship comes close. So, Johnas and Vildbjorn start helping with adding to the now rather smelly haul of fish while they wait for the ship to get in range.

Half an hour later, a person onboard the approaching ship waves to them and Johnas waves back. He then turns around and says to his crew: “Don’t let them touch our boat. We want to avoid maiming or killing and that will be hard if they get the chance to cling to us. Better to poke them with an oar if they get close.”

As the ship starts to pass them by they hear the incendiary device go off with a fiery crackling and an explosion of wood, followed by shouting. Loa had done her part. The three men in the rowboat had been acting to distract the incoming ship from seeing Loa, who had swum from her tiny isle perch on the other side of the ship, up to the hull of the ship. She had then attached the explosive to the ship hull right above the waterline, lit the fuse, and was now swimming away.

The three men set aside their fishing gear, don their masks, and start rowing towards the ship. “Pirates!”, “To arms!”, “Defend the ship!” and similar shouts are filling the air as armed soldiers are rushing to line up crossbow shots towards the rowboat. Other soldiers search for the source of the explosion, but they only find bad news. The shouts from the ship soon assume a more panicked cadence as the people aboard realizes that the hull has been breached and that the ship is rapidly sinking from taking in water.

As the rowboat comes within a hundred yards of the now half-sunken ship it becomes clear that any pretense of an armed response has been abandoned. Some of the passengers have already abandoned ship and are swimming towards land; others are gathering loose crates and other potential flotsam that they can use to aid with their swimming. Yet other passengers are clambering up the taller mast of the ship in an effort to get as far from the water as possible, a counterproductive endeavor as the now more top-heavy ship starts to list to the side, taking in water even faster. The ship rapidly sinks from there.

The rowboat was soon surrounded by debris and men, some of whom began to swim towards the boat, either too panicked to realize what they were doing or in a vain attempt to exact revenge. Either way, it did not work, as Mort hefted his oar and smacked any swimmers that approached them with it and a yelled “Sod off!” to ensure they kept their distance. Shouts of obscenities start to surround them; one kid is trying to straddle a floating barrel while screaming, “You sunk my carvings you thieving dog-faced cockwarts! I will carve you up!”

However, even the insults die down after Vildbjorn menacingly stands up with his crossbow cocked and aimed, and declares, “Gets yourselves out of here! We are not here to kill but we will if you ain’t swimming away!”

Vildbjorn gives a nod of his head to indicate their heading and the other two set about moving the rowboat for another 40 yards before reaching their target. Johna then puts the flute to his mouth, surreptitiously aims it, and blows a soundless note. The fat man, who has been swimming along unhindered, twitches as the dart enters his back, but makes no overt gesture of having noticed the danger. The dart falls out without leaving a trace, having injected its lethal dose. One minute later the man begins to spasm and cough, nearby guards swim to help him but it is too late, the fat man does not reach land alive.

With the main objective complete, the men in the rowboat set about clearing the area of people, the ones that could not swim were provided flotsam and told to paddle to shore. One kid had managed to build a small barge out of debris and was now swimming around collecting struggling people. Confident that most would survive, the three men turned the boat towards the small rock where their fourth member was waiting.

“Nicely done.” says Johna as Loa stands up and skips over to join them in the rowboat. Loa takes a moment to steady her feet and says, “How did it go on your end? Did anyone notice?” to which Vilbjorn answer “I think not, they never noticed the dart and the poison kicked in before he reached land. They will likely assume he cramped up and drowned.” “Time to sell the rest of the story and earn ourselves some extra coin then.” says Mort as they set about rowing back towards the shipwreck.

“Let’s start now. The ship is likely lying on its side at a depth of five meters from the surface, it will take us an hour or more and I’d rather use what little daytime we have left.” said Johna as they reached a position right above where the ship had sunk. Not much remained on the surface and the last crew of the ship were now paddling landwards on their makeshift raft.

Johna uncorks the two vials provided to them by the Sommerlandians and pours the content of the smaller vial into the bigger one; he then recorks and shakes it. The liquid instantly starts glowing and sputtering, but settles after a few moments, now emitting a constant white shimmering, the strength of several torchlights.

“This will do nicely, and they said it keeps for a couple of hours.” says Johna with an appreciative nod, as he ties the glowing vial to a looped string and hangs it over his head.

“I will start with securing the rope and looking around. Loa and I will then take turns diving to work on the door. The two of you are to keep guard.” continues Johna as he strips down and takes the coiled up rope that Vildbjorn has tied to the bow of the rowboat. He jumps into the water and dives down. It is cold.

But it is not dark. The water is clear and the light from the vial is strong enough to illuminate the entire side of the ship and its mast. Bubbles are seeping through the woodwork, reaching towards the surface. Nets, sails and clothing are dancing about in the tiny currents, having yet to settle on a final resting place. Schools of fish had already arrived to investigate this newly descendant giant from the world above.

Having uncoiled the rope as he descended, Johna ties the remainder of it to the railing of the ship and proceeds to swim to the door of the captain’s cabin. He looks at it and attempts to open the door with a couple of hard jerks, but it is locked. He turns around and swims back to the surface. They were going to need to pry away some wood and then saw through the metal lock. They had prepared for this; a small pry bar and a metal saw were waiting for him in the rowboat.

They would exchange gear, clamber down the rope, swim to the door, work on it until their lungs started burning and then clamber back up to the surface to have a brake while the other one dived.

All in all, it took him and Loa over two dozen dives before they finally had the door open. They then untied the rope from the sunken ship and brought it into the captain’s cabin, where they secured it to a chest. For the next dive they swam down together. They tugged on the rope and helped guide the chest up towards the surface as Vildbjorn and Mort started hauling it up.

A breath-catching time later, the heavy chest is pried open in the middle of the rowboat. It contains a small fortune in coins and other valuables.

“Almost enough to make me consider a change in career to become a pirate.” said Mort, leering at the treasure.

“Why would you? We are already double dipping as is.” retorted Loa with a grin.

As the glowing vial dims and the evening grow dark, the four assassins settle down and start their journey away from the crime scene.

“What is that smell?” asks Loa.

“It’s fish. I caught it for supper.” answers Mort.

To which she responds: “It already reeks! And I am not about to celebrate a successful mission by spending the night puking.”