D.ALL Chapter 19

Frost walked to it and brushed the sand aside, revealing the crack to be the lip of an eroded hatch made of woven seaweed pinned down by rough wood stakes.

They pried the pins loose then swung open the hatch. Underneath was a wide tunnel down, with a ladder latched to its side.

They descended and reached the bottom, seeing that the tunnel continued forward and up into where the amber light spilled from.

Yet, as they stalked closer to the light—it dulled, partially drowned out by another light, as Frost entered a half-flooded cavern.

The new light was a sea-blue, like that of the crystal above the Old Lilipass memorial, which emitted from water droplets dripping down smooth stalactites.

The amber light could still be seen, so why the other light dulled it did not matter much to Frost. But they still took note of the strange phenomenon before continuing on.

Frost breached the water and found themself in an underground crescent-shaped cove unflooded by water. A thin beach of light blue sand lined its edge.

The amber light was back to normal, Frost could see it was coming from holes in the back wall of the cove. They walked towards it—

Crack.

Frost leaped back and drew their hunting knife—prepared to fight back an ambush… Only to see that the noise was from a wood plank they had accidentally crushed with their boot.

They sheathed their knife and let out a heavy breath as they looked back up and noticed the back wall wasn’t made of rock.

The back wall was a wooden frame holding up a seaweed curtain, both decorated and painted to look like rugged, eroded stone. If it wasn’t for some of the paint flaking off, it would be indistinguishable from the surrounding rock.

Frost pushed the curtain aside, and on the other side was more of the cove. A cavern lit by electric lanterns shaded with amber paper which dangled from the ceiling by moss-ropes.

Within the cavern were furnishings—a puffy couch set in front of a water-stained table, a gigantic map of Terarin staked onto a wall, and tattered flags of wilted flowers adorned across wooden poles. All old but not unkempt, dust rested nowhere.

However, of most inquiry, was the makeshift ketch—a twin-masted sailboat—which rested on a raised platform at the center of the room. Its hull made of wood, sails made of seagrass, and a cracked silver bell fastened onto its crow’s nest.

Next to the ship was the missing game stand—a motorized shooting gallery game, picked apart by the boards and now without its motors.

After a quick look, Frost found that the motors had been fitted to the back of the ship, connected to propellers. The modification was not complete, wires draping from the motors and onto the ship’s deck, completely exposed to the elements.

They followed the wires and climbed onto the deck, finding a small generator tucked in between the planks. The generator had no place to put in liquid or solid fuel. Instead, on top, was a deep, angular indent with thin holes at the bottom of it.

They conducted a thorough search of the ship, finding nothing more than a few loose treenails, then moved onto the map on the wall.

It was intricately detailed; currents, common trades routes, islands, cities, towns—all drawn and marked with a caring hand—or rather, hands.

There were three distinct handwriting styles present on the map. The first two, written in ink which over the years had faded, were both cursive, but one used green ink while the other used red.

As for the third, they exclusively wrote on triple stacked sticky notes and must have used an orange marker. Their handwriting was blocky, easy to read and taking up little space.

While the majority of the map was charted by the green and red cartographers—the orange one stood out the most.

Beyond the corrections they had made—such as taking a chunk out of Old Lilipass and adding New Lilipass—they had also plotted a route from New Lilipass all the way north to the ice-shore city of “Block.”

The notes that made up the route covered the entity of the oceans between its two points. Each note filled to the edge with details about dangers to avoid, places to rest, repair, or replenish, and other logistical matters.

Frost dragged their hand across the map’s edges, looking for more clues—finding a wooden plaque that was tucked behind and below the map. Lily pad stems were woven between holes in it to spell out, “Property of the Jolly Duo, Sola and Marrrrrrrrr—”

The tenth and last “r” was incomplete. Whoever was weaving it must have been interrupted, Frost concluded.

Once they were done examining the map, Frost looked around a bit more—finding two tree branches, the ones the culprit must have used to conceal their trail, and an empty sealable trash bag.

After those two last discoveries, they found nothing more, deciding they had found the extent of what they could. They took the motors and what remained of the game stand and headed back to the shore to update Foxx and Free.

***

With the sun half hidden by the horizon, blazing a soft gold—Frost emerged from the sea, soggy, and horns draped in seaweed.

Foxx was drawing in the sand with his tail, while Free was still lounging on the shore rocks, sipping on the soda he got from Cornel.

After a wave hello, Frost summarized what happened as Free used his wings to dry them off.

“Flags of wilted flowers, a silver bell…” Free snapped his fingers in sync with his wing beats, “Now where have we seen that before?” Free looked at Foxx, eye raised.

“The arcade,” Foxx said.

“Bingo!” Free beat his wings a bit too hard, sand flying into Frost’s face. “Maybe they’re from the same gang as the one in that game.”

With sand in their face, but seaweed no longer in their horns, Frost pondered that idea, then shook their head—sand falling out, “Unlikely.”

“Right—if it was a sea-pirate hideout, then they’re probably long gone by now,” Free transformed his wings back into hair. “But enough speculation—we need to get this stand back to Cornel’s.”

“Agreed.”

Frost and Free picked up the remains of the game stand, while Foxx picked up the motors. They made their way back to Cornel’s pavilion in short time—Cornel was still fast asleep with little sign of waking soon.

And before the trio could start discussing the matter at hand, Melli happened by, spotting them and waving “Ahoy!” Then stopping in his tracks when he noticed Cornel passed out on the floor and the game stand dismantled, “…Care to tell me what happened?”

Frost told Melli what happened, sparing no detail, telling him about the plaque last.

“Sola and Marr!” Melli exclaimed. “Those are Lav and Sal’s parents. That sounds just like them,” he chuckled.

“Elaborate,” Frost said.

“They’ve always been into cartography, pirates, and the like. Makes sense to me they made a little hideaway when they were pups, especially with everything going on at the time. Everyone needed an escape, and that was theirs it seems.”

“Did you know about it before?”

“Nope. Although maybe one of their treasure hunts led to it and no one ever solved it.”

“Treasure hunts?” Foxx raised his ears.

Melli gave Foxx a smile, “They used to hide maps all around New Lilipass, in a mailbox, under a rock, in their leaf-coat—anywhere they could, even once hid one under Albo’s cap. The easier ones led to another map or a knick knack, but the harder ones…” He paused for dramatic effect, “No one knows where those lead, and those two swear against giving hints—even after all these years.”

“Woah.”

“They did the same thing for their wedding too, and if you couldn’t follow the clues and find the venue—you were out of luck!” Melli laughed.

“Hmm.” Frost crossed their arms, “What of the orange cartographer?”

Melli rubbed his chin, “Can’t say I have a clue.”

“We could compare handwriting to find the culprit.”

“Don’t bother,” Melli waved away the suggestion. “Probably just a city hooligan that found something they shouldn’t have and got a bright idea.” Melli sighed, “If it was someone dangerous, they would have done more than steal a game stand.”

“Mm-hmm,” Frost agreed. “What should we do about the hideaway?”

“I’ll handle it,” Melli took out a pager and sent a message before putting it back into his pocket. “Me and Albo will have a quick look around, just in case, and I’ll have someone keep an eye on the hatch overnight. Maybe haul the ketch over to the art center and undo what the hooligan did. Lav and Sal will be ecstatic to see it too!”

“Are you sure you do not require any aid?”

“I’m not a bag of dust quite yet, no need to worry.”

“Understood. What should be done with the game stand?”

“Cornel is in no state to fix it, and we should let the poor lad rest, he’s done enough,” Melli chuckled. “Sal’s too busy to fix it too…”

Free spoke up, “I can fix it—should only take me ten, twenty minutes tops. Foxx and Frost can handle setting up the last stands in the meantime.” Free side-eyed Frost, “As long as Frost uses the cart this time—we’ll be done in like, thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Free,” Melli smiled.

“Don’t sweat it, we’re on the clock anyway,” Free shrugged.

“Still—” Melli’s pager beeped, he quickly read it then put it back. “I better get going, gotta make sure everything is in working order.”

Melli waved goodbye, Frost and Free giving waves in return, and Foxx bowing as the shadows of dusk slowly began fading into night.