Chapter 748 — Challenging the Ocean

"He was half-unconscious at the time, wilted from the sun, but when we approached, he woke swiftly and proved highly aggressive. He attacked us with some spell like an acid arrow, but fortunately we had brought two mages along, and they counter-cast and subdued him.

"He passed out from sheer exhaustion. Before he did, he kept mumbling sentences no one could understand. The soldiers were somewhat frightened after hearing those murmurs; some said it was the curse-speech the fishermen speak of—the language only the dead swallowed by the waves can speak...

"Apart from half a broken amulet, he carried nothing that could prove his identity, but his clothing was absolutely made by human hands... I suspect he is a poor soul cursed by some terrible power in the deep sea. Of course, that is only my judgment."

Count Owen gave a murmur of assent and looked at the mage beside him. "Did you learn anything from the amulet?"

"Nothing, my lord," the mage said, picking up the cracked amulet and handing it to Count Owen. "It is completely ruined, its magic entirely drained, and the residual spell model is of no reference value. There is also a very strange point—the decorative patterns on its surface appear to have been deliberately ground away, now completely unrecognizable."

Count Owen took the amulet—no larger than half an old-standard imperial gold round—and turned it over in his hand for a look.

It was the surviving half of some circular amulet, possibly made of mithril, clearly once a transcendent item; and just as the mage had said, one face bore obvious grinding marks. The work was crude, yet it had thoroughly erased the patterns by which the amulet might have been identified.

Owen casually tossed the amulet to the attendant at his side.

"You were once human..." He came to the scaly, webbed humanoid and bent down to stare into those unsettling eyes. "Weren't you?"

"Ssss... hah..."

From the humanoid creature's throat came a hoarse voice such as no human could produce, like the rasp of some amphibian, muddled and low, impossible to make out.

"You spent a long time in the sea... the stink of fish, the stench of silt, and the aura of magic from the storm," Count Owen said, still staring at the other. "What is out there in the deep waters? What turned you into this?"

The answer was still that same muddled, incomprehensible rasp; and as he listened to that uncanny sound, vague impressions of surging waves rose unbidden in Owen's mind.

"Some unknown transcendent power has twisted this poor man," the mage beside him said. "My lord, I have tried many times to communicate with him by hypnosis and the like. The wretched fellow has lost the human capacity for language entirely."

"No. It is your method that is wrong," Count Owen said, casually unfastening from his wrist a pendant that gave off a faint blue glow.

He brought the pendant close to the "monster" lying on the stone bed; the latter gazed at that mysterious, profound blue light, and suddenly his eyes widened slightly.

"Long, long ago, when this city of Mobius was still a thriving seaport, House Dyson and the Church of the Storm were as close as could be," the Count said slowly. "We keep many artifacts connected with the storm, such as a pendant once blessed by the Storm Hierophant... Now, tell me, Child of the Storm, what happened to you?"

Even though there was nothing on the other's body by which he might be identified, even though the patterns on the surface of that talisman had been worn away, Owen Dyson could still guess the origins of this man from the distant waters.

After all, he and his family had kept watch over these seas for several hundred years.

The black-robed "monster" on the stone bed stared at the pendant in Count Owen's hand, and suddenly drew a deep breath; in that hoarse voice like a broken bellows, he spoke slowly, in a tone as if murmuring in a dream: "Have you... heard the... call of the deep sea?"

"The call of the deep sea?" Count Owen frowned. "What are you talking about?"

The black-robed monster's voice grew more and more distant, as though his mind were already slipping away: "Ah... in the dark, fathomless depths... the divine seat has changed hands... He who devours flesh and blood calls out with the sound of the tide... Listen closely, can you hear it..."

"It seems your mind has been thoroughly corrupted," Count Owen said with a regretful shake of his head, and made to put the talisman away. "But I thank you still, for reminding me once again of the sea's dangers, and that I ought to remain wary of it."

The blue-glowing talisman slowly passed out of the black-robed monster's sight; the latter breathed violently, but of a sudden his breathing calmed, and a strange smile surfaced on his face, a smile blending serenity and joy.

The fine, close-set scales made that smile especially horrifying.

Count Owen heard the monster force a few final syllables from his throat:

"I hear it, I hear it... she is calling... Eva is calling us... back on course..."

The monster on the stone bed gave a long, drawn-out sigh; and then, before the eyes of all present, his body abruptly burst apart into a liquid like murky seawater.