Page 34 of Morfran, Dark Lord Reformed

She flushed as he’d expected she would, and also as he expected, she changed the subject.

“You told me Ravana got her powers from the Man of Lettis, who lives just off the coast of Atlantis 2.0,” she said. “I want you to take me to him.”

He scowled. “I told you where his tower is already. I’m not a chaperone.”

“No,” she replied. “But you did serve Dark Lady Ravana at one point, and she’s the horrid person who did this to me. It’ll be a way of mending your past grievances.”

Just then Benjamin began hacking up green-tinged goat vomit over the side of the boat. He patted her shoulder, all while trying to shrug Bronwen off. “Why do you even want the hex removed? It could be a lifelong lesson in not overworking yourself.”

“Not overworking myself? It affects me even when I’m asleep! Every night since we’ve left my hammock keeps falling out of all the ties I fasten, and I keep waking up on the ground.”

“That’s what that noise was?” He woke each night in panic at the loud thwump, thinking Ravana had somehow rallied together a full armada with cannon ships and was launching supreme warfare on them.

He gestured at Bronwen’s braid. It was lovely and neat and tied off with a little white ribbon. “You’ve done your hair nicely, and every other day, too. Maybe you’re just overthinking things.”

“I don’t braid it. Gueldefore does.”

Morfran frowned. Of course the knight knew how to braid hair. And of course he’d braided Bronwen’s. I can braid hair, too, he thought begrudgingly. Ravana had taught him, saying that one day they’d have daughters who’d inherit their callousness, and that cool braids were a requirement for wicked princesses.

Well, if the knight thought he was so fancy that he could braid hair, Morfran would go one step further and agree to escort Bronwen to the Man of Lettis. Never mind that he dreaded meeting the man about as much as he loathed soggy sandwich bread and wet socks and catching his pants’ belt loop on a nearby drawer knob and getting jerked aside by it.

“Fine.” Morfran stroked Beni’s back as the goat slumped down and set her head on his lap. “I’ll go with you. But only after we take over Atlantis 2.0.”

She beamed. “Thank you, Bernard.” She squeezed his arm and left, leaving Morfran simultaneously cranky and confusingly pleased. He wasn’t used to having people willingly fetch his roast beef sandwiches, or grip his arm in gratitude, or come up to him and thank him for freeing Ferndock, as several rebels had done over the past few days.

And now here he was, having helped peasants take over a major stronghold he himself had conquered years ago. Well, it’d be ending soon enough, and he’d be fleeing across Lake Dumast with three goats in tow. It’d be bliss.

Ruminating over these thoughts, he continued to soothe Beni by rubbing her belly until she fell asleep, and then he carried her and the kids down into one of the cabin rooms for safekeeping and resurfaced back on deck. By then Brim and Elena were both standing on the quarterdeck at the helm, pointing off in the distance and frowning.

Had they finally spotted land? They should be coming up to the coast soon. He joined them. “What is it?”

“Can’t quite say, Bernard.” Brim lowered his eyeglass and passed it to him. “But it doesn’t look natural.”

When he peered through it he saw nothing at first. Just water and water and more water. Then he saw it, in the water. “A whirlpool?”

“The water just started swirling.” Elena collapsed her eyeglass and grabbed hold of the steering wheel, which was carved into two strange creatures eating their tails in a circle. On closer inspection they looked like dragon-kitties. She needed a new obsession. “I don’t think I can go around it, either. It’s expanding more rapidly than I can turn us away.”

“So, what? We’re going to run the ship into an unnatural whirlpool and just hope we don’t get flung around like a child on a runaway carousel?”

“I don’t know, Bernard,” she snapped, shooting him a lethal look. Though she kept his secret, she still hadn’t forgiven him and had shown the same animosity towards him since that night in her living room. “Whirlpools aren’t something that happen in Dumast. Though there is folklore about a creature living in the depths of the lake…”

She’d said it somewhat ominously. Both he and Brim waited. “Yes?” Brim prodded.

“It’s more of a myth.” She stared unblinking at the floorboards, a haunted look passing over her face, like a hundred ghosts had suddenly flocked to just her vision and she couldn’t look away. Morfran waved his hand in front of her eyes. Brim began snapping his fingers. She blinked. “It couldn’t be true, though. I’ve sailed these waters for over thirty-five years. Haven’t seen an inkling it exists.”

“Oh, good,” Morfran said.

“But folklore says it can be roused to the surface by someone with great power.”

“Oh,” Morfran repeated, this time more irritably. “Wonderful.” He didn’t like where this was going. “Does it say this creature creates whirlpools?”

“It does,” Elena admitted. “The whirlpool sucks you in, and then, right before you hit the bottom, it bursts from the center and eats your ship.”

He and Brim glanced at the whirlpool, which had expanded to an uncomfortable size. The ship was already starting to snag into its pull.

“Well, what type of great power are we talking about?” Brim asked, tugging his beard as if he were a tad bit concerned.

Elena shot Morfran a black look. “There are only two people I can think who carry such power.”