Ye Adventures of Josua Elmerts
- Enekos
- Aug 15, 2023
- 18 min read
“Now you be careful young Fiza!” the elderly woman called as the young girl carefully edged along the branch of the ancient Ember-flower tree, inching ever closer to her prize: the golden fruit said to be like biting into the smoothest caramel butter but with a refresh sweet water sac in every bite. The other children had dared her to scale the 400-year-old tree and she was now amongst the highest branches, where a fall would surely kill her. Another woman approached the first and in a softer voice said, “Oh you don’t want to worry about that one, she’s fearless.”
“SHRIMMMMMPPP!” The captain of the Veraku Archaeology Survey yelled for the second time, his echo cascading around the high walls of the Menavariyam. Awoken from her memory of the Ember-flower tree, so long ago, the woman looked in the direction of Professor Josua Elmerts, waved one hand and began to jump from rock to rock to reach him.
Academically, Fiza was noted as ‘being gifted with a sense of exhilaration and wonder when presented with vine-covered hole in a temple floor; myopic thinking when it came to the perils beyond the vine-covered hole; having a penchant for solving ancient puzzles; an artistry when avoiding poison-tipped arrows that came from not solving such puzzles; an understanding of the artifacts and forgotten languages that lay beyond those puzzles; but a tardiness when it came to completing classroom assignments, giving her the lowest score amongst her peers and rightfully earning her the name ‘Shrimp’’.
Fiza loved the adventure of life, finding happiness in the experience, rather than rehashing notes by an obscure writer. Fiza also loved the taverns: the drinking, the games, and the chance of encountering wild tales from explorers or – as more oft in Veraku – those who had met someone, who knew someone, who’d once heard a story about such an explorer.
And it was from such a tavern that Fiza had heard the hushed tones of a missing artifact that had already caused the death of a watchmaker in far off Ekrinaya. She heard the word ‘Αθανασία’ and her mind raced. There was a ship involved: the black one that often-visited Veraku. She’d seen it once, remembering the pink-clad man, surrounded by the elite corps of the night watch and the sabre-toothed cat: such a rare thing to see in Veraku. She rocked back on her chair to hear a little more.
The more she heard, the more a warm feeling crept through her soul: this wasn’t a rehashed tale, it was real, and it sounded dangerous. The sudden hand on her shoulder confirmed that she’d leaned back a little too far, caught the attention of the speaker and suddenly brought her heartrate to a whole new level.
Sometimes the words, “Let’s go for a little walk,” can mean a wonderful day amongst the merchants and traders of the Veraku markets, or a climb to the hilltop lake country. The sun is usually shining and there’s laughter and enjoyment… Sometimes the words, “Let’s go for a little walk,” can mean you’re about to lose all your money and get stabbed in the stomach.
Fiza was fairly certain that the owner of the hand on her shoulder wasn’t suggesting a climb to the hilltop lake country and, at this hour of night, Veraku’s merchants and traders would be asleep in their beds. Her heart raced a little more – but she fought back the panic.
Normal folk leave the tavern by the front door into the main boulevard where lanterns flickered atop poles. Fiza and the stranger left by the side door into the alley that had a pale white glow from the new moon. To Fiza’s surprise they did walk… In silence… But walking in silence was much better than feeling a blade sliding between her ribs.
They walked for a few minutes, and she could smell the strange mix of saltwater, mud, and exotic spices, while nearby voices called back and forth. She heard marching, the clunk of metal from the night watch armour she stifled the urge to shout for help. One more turn through the alley and there it was – a ship as black as the night – almost invisible, save for the candles and bodies than came and went. Some were alive.
The stranger gestured her to board the ship, the gangway bobbed with the tide and a few faces turned to look briefly at Fiza. They approached a door; the stranger knocked, and then they both entered. The cabin was filled with books and trinkets, some nautical items and rolls of parchments she assumed were maps. Her eyes stopped at an ornate wood board nailed to the ship. It read:
“Which is more important,” asked Big Panda, “the journey or the destination?”
“The company,” said Tiny Dragon.
Jean Flint offered her a fresh brew of coffee, which she accepted, not wishing to offend. She was acutely aware that while breathing now, this could change very quickly. He asked a few polite questions; such has her name and what she did. His eyebrows raised inquisitively at the mention of student of the Veraku Archaeology Survey, and they exchanged a discussion about some artifacts “found” from various voyages.
“Why aren’t I dead?” Fiza couldn’t help herself. Jean Flint looked at her once more and smiled. It wasn’t in his immediate thoughts that someone with such a rich knowledge of ancient treasures should find the tip of a blade and that instead of contemplating what lies beyond the veil of life, that her mind should be considering answers as to how her knowledge would make her invaluable to Jean Flint.
“Ok,” she sighed, “Athanasia – it mean immortality, but a watchmaker is dead and all you’re the one searching for it and more people are dead, but you have dead-ends except you don’t – your friend,” she gestured to the stranger from the tavern, “Your friend mentioned the Temple of Menavam. But your artifact isn’t ancient, except maybe it is. Maybe the watchmaker needed something older than time to make your device work. Maybe that’s the connection to Menavam.”
Jean Flint smiled again.
The sands of time rush forward a few days before our story begins, to the private chambers of one Prof Josua Elmerts, captain of the Veraku Archaeology Survey. He’s surrounded by books and two chairs are occupied by Fiza and a nameless man (whom we will call Mr Leaf) and a bag of gold – promised as the first instalment to acquire provisions.
Mr Leaf explains that he is an envoy for a wealthy patron who wished to invest in the Veraku Archaeology Survey to seek answers from Temple of Menavam. A large bag of gold would be provided prior to the expedition to acquire provisions. Another would be given upon the return with said information. The student Fiza was required to join the expedition.
There was a protest, the end of summer was fast approaching and the Temple of Menavam could only be reached by boat from the town of Menavam high in the Menavariyam. This was ancient land and soon the first snowdrifts would come, thrice taller than any man, and risk the expedition. Better to wait until Spring.
“Excellent,” responded Mr Leaf, “So you will leave in three days.”
‘Ye Adventures of Josua Elmerts’ describe the rich tapestry of a quest into the high Menavariyam, with a band of young minds, a hired swordsman, several pack animals, and a horse-drawn wagon. It tells the intricate mesh of characters and gives the reader a glimpse into the ancient town of Menavam, from where much of the southern world can be seen. There’s the drunken bar fight, a vivid description of the stone dragons carved over a thousand years ago, and where older parts of the town are carved into their bellies. The reader discovers that Menavam translates as “Power of Dragons” and hears often of a student called Shrimp who says she was in the Power of Dragons. Then there are the boats which navigate between the dragons and the chill in the air as winter fast approaches. And eventually they reach the temple, itself slowly being consumed by the ever-moving forests and it tells of a hole in the temple floor and of that same fearlessly foolish student who’s just leapt into it…
‘Ye Adventures of Josua Elmerts’ has a footnote at this point which remains the first recorded use of the phrase ‘Look before you leap’ for if Fiza weren’t so impatient, Josua would have suggested that the collapse was caused by an earthquake some 200 years ago. Evidence showed that a succession of floods and time had caused build-up of soil and silt from where vines had taken up residence. Subsequent floods had washed away the soil, yet the vines remained…
For the reader this presents quite an exciting moment that leads into definite peril and then sheer terror as the vines give way causing Fiza’s momentary grin of ooh that was fun, change suddenly to several moments of freefall and a hard splash into a small underground lake…
If asked, Fiza would remember the surprising warmth of the water, followed by how the lichens and mosses that clung to the walls appeared to glow, casting pockets of light across the water. Then she recall the long orange and red fish, so many of them – each one snaking its way through the water. There was a short swim to the hard-stone floor of the temple. She remembered the bite-mark on her arm, sucking instinctively at and spitting any poison back into the water. And Fiza would search the chamber and finding only one parchment, which she quickly read, slipped into her tunic and allowed the grin to crease across her lips.
‘Ye Adventures of Josua Elmerts’ continues the story whereby Josua and his students find another entrance into the temple and a route with very few traps and no poison arrows. There are stone rubbings which show ancient hieroglyphs from a forgotten language and few answers to please Mr Leaf and his bag of gold. It would tell the story that as much as they searched, they could not find the student called Fiza and Josua Elmerts expresses sorrow at the loss of such a vibrant personality.
There were no artifacts to speak of, but they did find a door. It was open and lead to a ruined chamber surrounded by a lake, where the walls appeared to glow, casting pockets of light across the water. This lake was warm to the touch but none of the party went closer for there were hundreds of orange and red snakes swimming there. They quickly left the chamber and returned to the surface.
When the echoes of their voices had gone, a figure emerged from the shadows. There was a hissing sound. Fiza pulled up her hood, took a final glance at the lake and left…
Snake Eyes
In number 74-76 Mateus Boulevard, in a quiet neighbourhood of Veraku sat a very puzzled man. Puzzled because the ledgers just didn’t add up. This wasn’t like missing a silver penny – that was frustrating enough, it was worse. The first time it was out by 333 gold coins. The second time showed 18 gold coins. The third, 75481 silver pennies. This was now the forty-second time being wrong and this leading to only one solution.
“Did we have anyone with, let’s say magical abilities on the staff last month?” he asked to the room in general, without looking up.
“No sir,” replied another voice. This one was standing.
The seated man looked at him. “No one?”
“No sir,” the standing man confirmed.
“Did we have any clients with magic then?”
“It’s against the rules of the establishment, sir,”
“I know, FFS. I wrote the rules of the establishment.” The seated man was now standing and punched the desk for effect. The other man winced, but remained silent. In times like these things could go south very quickly, and not in such a way where the sun shined, and women wore skimpy garments.
“I know it’s against the rules FFS, but sometimes rules are broken and sometimes we don’t see everything. See?” The other man didn’t see. He knew rules were broken, but as head of security, he couldn’t admit that rules were broken because that was a sure sign that the angry man would start breaking things that belonged to him.
“There was that one man, he came in every night, sir. The one who was dressed for a cold winter despite winter not being due for some time. Smelled like a dog.” In truth he didn’t know if the person in question had magical abilities, but he did take home a lot of winnings. And owners of gambling dens in general don’t like clients who take home lots of winnings, especially when they never return to spend them.
The angry man now sat down and whispered, “FFS…”
“Yes, sir?”
“No. Not you FFS. FFS.”
“Sir?”
“FFS.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No. Not. You. The other FFS.”
“The other, sir?”
“FFS FFS we need to get you another name.”
“Sir?”
The seated man shook his head slowly as a thought came to his mind. If lightbulbs had been invented, this would be a lightbulb moment. A cry of Eureka seemed too dramatic and so, instead, a little candle flickered in his mind. He looked up at the other man. “FFS, where is Van Bastardo now?”
,
Several hundred miles away in the high Menavariyam mountains the first snowstorm had struck and the residents of Menavam who now huddled together around the sacred fires. The high priest Miyagi offered a token of Firemew flowers to the ancient dragon gods of the mountain to watch over them and make the winter a little milder than last year.
Miyagi’s story was simple to tell. He’d arrived as a small boy: an acolyte to the monastery of Menavam and he’d lived here boy and man for decades, never venturing beyond the lake. He did sometimes gaze to the southern lands and while he wondered what stories those lands told, the small stream of travellers to Menavam brought their own tales. That satiated him. Other than this, he read his books, organised parchments and spent free time tending to the needs of his ever-loyal companions in various shapes of dogs.
And that was his life. And he enjoyed it. Except the winters. Miyagi loathed the cold evermore as he grew old. If anything would cause him to head down the mountain it would be a severe winter. But then a severe winter would cut off the mountain passes, and he’d be stuck with the sacred fires.
Before this winter arrived, he gave audience to two groups of travellers. The first enjoyed the Menuna offered to all guests: a potent water that gave one the feeling of breathing fire like the dragons. He’d arrived from the city of Veraku and was in search of some artifact and his quest had lead him into the mountains. He spoke often with Miyagi and told stories of his travels - painting vivid pictures in Miyagi’s mind about the lush northern lands that could not be seen from Menavam. Miyagi began to suspect that even a mild winter would be enough for him to explore for the first time in his life.
The traveller was known as Mearaithe and he cautioned that the lands beyond the mountains were harsh and that many people had ugliness in their souls. There was violence too and death – usually by the blade of another. Miyagi smiled and he explained some of the more hidden wisdom of Menavam which meant embracing all aspects of the dragons – including their fire and violence. Mearaithe departed soon after, but left a gift for Miyagi. It was a parchment with his seal. It read: ‘Find the Behemoth, find Jean Flint.’
The second group of travellers was headed by captain Josua Elmerts, a professor of the Veraku Archaeology Survey who seemed to have chosen the wrong time of year to investigate the Temple of Menavam. The captain had brought his students, including a charming and inquisitive one known as Fiza, whose answer to Miyagi offers of a parchment or book to read, was always for him to tell her the story from his experience.
A bond was thus created as Miyagi loved to tell the tales of Menavam, but with the first breath of winter bearing down upon them, Fiza’s party soon headed deeper into the lake country in search of the ancient temple. They returned some days later, forlorn and minus one member of their expedition. Miyagi’s heart sank as he heard the tale and now the dragons breathed, and winter arrived.
Beyond the Menavariyam, in the lush lands of the north lies a white marble structure amongst many others, on a narrow street with polish cobbles. Above the entrance swings an ornate wooden sign, inscribed with the words Aurum Est Potestas. Opening the door caused a little bell to ring, which often caused a person to look up, where they would admire the double height void and see the words ‘libenter / laetissime epulabimur (nostris) prospectivis domitoribus’ painted on the ceiling, amongst half naked men and fat ladies. The visitor would mouth the ancient language, as the calm quiet of a vast book-lined library slowly begins entering their periphery, only to be startled by the hushed tones of a man who translated, “We will gladly, most happily feast on our prospective tamers.”
He would introduce himself as Quietus Alpharious, and the person would respond with “I have a parchment from a goose that’s flown from Veraku.” And a parchment would be handed to the man, who would say thank you, reach into his pocket and flick over a gold coin – a whole gold coin. He would smile and then bid you a good day.
As the person left thinking ‘a whole gold coin’, Quietus Alpharious would turn, straighten his back and walk to his private office. Once assured the door closed behind him, he would break the seal of the Black Sails, and unfurl the letter. He quickly scanned the contents and called out “Parsnip! Prepare my carriage.”
In the depths of the Temple of Menavam, Fiza’s mind was breaking under confusion. She needed air as panic coursed through her veins. What was happening to her? She remembered the fall, remembered the warm water, but then everything else was a blur. The temple was devoid of any artifacts, of any books or any hint that people once came here: once lived and worshipped here.
The corridors below the temple seemed to meander, smooth grey rock glistened in the dappled light emitted from the lichens. It seemed to sooth her. How long had she been down here, and why wasn’t she hungry?
Eventually she reached an oaken door. It was unlocked, but heavy and Fiza struggled to open it. It creaked and groaned, woken from the longest slumber, and revealed steps that reached forever upwards. She sighed and began to climb.
Van Bastardo it transpires was returning home from Veraku after visiting a shape-shifting, name changing friend who was maybe called Fenrir at the time, but I could be wrong and honestly it’s too confusing to keep track of some people. Which is how they like it.
He imagined his friend (Fenrir) worked at the city zoo: his letters were always signed ‘Your truest friend in the Lions Den’ and was both surprised to discover that Veraku didn’t have a zoo, and disappointed that it didn’t have lions. But that it did have many illegal gambling dens, and if anyone loved competitions, it was Van Bastardo.
While Van Bastardo loved competitions, he also hated losing. He had morals and would never cheat, but he would use every tool at his disposal. And so, the innocent talisman of luck he purchased from some obscure village whose name he’d already forgotten* – well that wasn’t cheating.
And it was a good weekend: each time he turned a good card, a warm pulse emanated from the talisman, while bad cards made him feel cold. So, he won plenty of gold, ate good meals, drunk ale and spent some good times with Fenrir, who suggested he leave his sleepy back-water village behind and join him in Veraku. But he made promises and was now riding a horse back home to that same back-water village.
“We found this, Mr Hok, sir” Mrs Mabella had been a cleaner at the establishment for five years and in all that time she had not found anything that made her skin feel both warm and cold, depending on the decisions she would take. It felt quite cold as she handed it over.
* Side Note: While not important for the lore, it should be known that the talismans of Epumatara – a village to the west of Veraku form a special bond with their bearer. The bond greatly influences outcomes and should be worn at all times. Should this be dropped, for instance by a slightly drunken man with too much gold in an illegal gambling den, then the magic within the talisman will reach-out looking for a new host. Until that time came, anything connected to numbers, gold or other forms of wealth were in great jeopardy of never making any sense. The shopkeeper was sure he’d mentioned this to Van Bastardo. But perhaps he wasn’t listening.
In Menavam, the high priest Miyagi noticed a shape reflected in the sacred fire. Something – or someone was coming, and it might not be good.
Atop the final step Fiza felt the exhilarating rush of the night air. It was cold and the snow was falling but after days of being in the labyrinth, anything was an improvement. Even this. She pulled her cloak closer, looked around and saw the faint outlines of the temple far below. For tonight, she reasoned, she’d find some wood, build a small fire and sleep inside the porch to the steps she’d just climbed. In the morning, she’d head back down the mountain and find food in Menavam.
Fate rolled her dice. They bounced around the table, clicking against each other, bounced and rolled until both finished their dance. Two single dots. Snake Eyes she thought…
As the rays of the winter sun caressed Fiza’s cheek, she felt an unusual hunger and some unfathomable rage. She rose and began her walk down the mountain.
Conversely Rexus was leading his group of vagabonds known as the Death Guards back up the mountain towards a cave where they kept food, weapons and some gold taken from their reluctant patrons. And by chance Van Bastardo had spent a short period of time help captive in the Death Guards before making his escape. Fiza did not know any of this when she crossed paths with Rexus.
“It was awful. True awful,” Rexus was never a man of many words, and so how he recounted the deaths of 17 guards with snakes that seemed to come from every direction was brief. He had fled of course. They all had. Well, not before confronting the lone woman on the mountainside. “But she was angry-see. And her eyes. They was green. All green. No whites. And there was hatred and we tried to – but we couldn’t. She. Well the snakes. They ripped everyone to shreds…” He sobbed hard.
It took Fiza the whole day to descend the mountain. She had strange visions along the way, hearing faraway cries of people in torment and fear. She clearly saw the smattering of blood and remembered the smell. As night arrived, she felt calm once again, knelt by a stream that had not yet frozen and took a drink. It was then she noticed the blood… All the blood.
She screamed.
In Menavam, there was some merriment – a ritual to the dragons of winter as the sacred fires roared in the night. The high priest Miyagi left the townsfolk and tended to some sacks of grain behind his sanctuary. It was then he heard the scream. It wasn’t far away – maybe near the stream. He ran towards it and found a sobbing woman, covered in blood. He quickly wrapped his blanket around her. She resisted of course but then saw his face as the moonlight struck him.
“Oh Mr. Miyagi…” she cried more.
It took some time to calm her, but the warm tea he made helped. He told her about his conversations with captain Josua Elmerts and she recounted what bits she could remember. The days were fuzzy, but times from the dark or in the labyrinth was clear in her mind.
Miyagi sighed.
“Wherever there is magic, there is an antidote,” Miyagi began. “I have lived my whole life in this valley and I know its secrets. I know the ancient lore of the temple and the story of what we call the zenuma – a peaceful snake that swims in the warm waters below the temple as they have done for centuries. Myths say that the priests of the temple drank from those waters to gain clarity of mind, and healing of the body. But the zenuma have known only the soft light and it calms them. But when you fell into the hole, you opened the temple water to the full heat of the sun. You agitated them, made them fearful and when one bit you, that fear of the sun caused their magic to course through you. So, when you encountered the soldiers, they caused you fear too and you lashed out. Not with your hands – but with the magic. You called forth all snakes both real and imagined. But I can help you – Menavam can help you. The power of the dragons is stronger than the zenuma. We can teach you to control your fears and you can learn our fighting ways.”
In a future discussion with Mr Leaf, Fiza would recount that those fighting ways began with a lot of cleaning and polishing – putting wax on, and then taking it off.
The days became weeks and Mr Miyagi showed that the fear and rage did not belong to Fiza. She was a charming and fearless person who shone a ray of warm sunshine. The fear came from the zenuma and Miyagi helped Fiza to meditate and calm the snake spirits within her. As the sands of time moved forward, Fiza began to control her reaction to the sun. She found new uses for her magic – calling upon living snakes to act as spies or helping her to navigate dark places.
She also became quite adept at cleaning.
The high priest Miyagi appreciated his time with Fiza: the bonds of friendship had grown between student and master, but he knew her heart belonged to the southlands and her future would be found in the north too. He also remembered the words of the traveller Mearaithe and took out the parchment with his seal.
“I know you must leave soon and find your own adventures, Fiza the Fearless. So, please accept this gift and maybe you can use it to find your destiny.” Miyagi offered over the parchment, which she read and smiled. It said: ‘Find the Behemoth, find Jean Flint.’
“I’ve met him, Mr Miyagi. I’ve been on the ship. It’s incredible.” Miyagi’s eyes opened wider than she’d ever seen. “Yes, Jean Flint is the reason I came to Menavam in the first place. It seems our fates are coiled together. Like a snake.” She smiled again.
And so it was that Fiza the Fearless left Menavam, and Miyagi found his reason head into the southlands. Fiza still needed some help with her meditations and opening her mind to new powers. The darkness in her spirit would come and go. At the pumpkin farm she knew the spy had planned to betray her – the snake had hissed it, so she killed him. No questions. And for those quiet times, she found a quaint cottage in the Forest of Daphun where she learned the esoteric arts of herbs to enhance her powers.
Van Bastardo returned home to that sleepy back-water village, sad that he’d lost his talisman, but happy with the gold. A goose awaited him with a note, from an old friend. It read simply: “Not sure I’ve done the right thing VB. Things are very different here. People are so quiet. They didn’t even welcome me. I’m not even sure they are real pirates. Enekos.”
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