"Enough of this traipsing," growled Oscar. "We want to cross to the other side right? Well then, we're just wasting energy by going around!" He climbed to his feet and clambered over the wall.
Fengel didn't like Oscar. The man was boorish, crude, and perpetually disheveled. There was something almost... ratlike about him. Still, he was a member of the crew, and had been almost since the beginning. "Mister Pleasant. Get back in line this—"
Oscar took three steps into the open ruin. He glanced back at the tone in Fengel's voice, then sank. The smooth ground beneath his feet turned liquid as the pirate fell into it, splashing murky water all about. Oscar yelled out in surprise.
Fengel cursed. He called a halt behind them. Then he moved up to the wall and put his hands on it. "Quit thrashing around, you fool," he hissed. "It's quicksand." Breachtown tales abounded about this sort of threat; Fengel was mildly interested. He had never expected to see it in real life.
"But I'm sinking," wailed Oscar.
"Yes," replied Fengel, "that's the point. Now hold still while I figure this out."
His crewman stilled, panic written across his face. He had sunk to his waist and as Fengel watched, slipped an inch in the course of a minute. The problem wasn't unsolvable, however. His pirate was only a few feet past the crumbled wall.
Fengel directed Lome and Henry Smalls to cut free a long vine to use as a rope, and then ordered him pulled out. They bent to the task while Fengel stood back to watch. Rastalak appeared beside him from out of the jungle. Only long practice kept Fengel from starting in surprise.
"This noise gives us away," hissed their guide.
"Yes," admitted Fengel curtly. "Oscar is an idiot." He was vexed. The actions of a crew reflected upon the captain. "But frankly, it's surprising that something like this hasn't happened before now. We are not exactly locals."
"I have been keeping us out of most trouble," said Rastalak.
"Hmm."
They watched the rescue process. Lome found what looked like a suitable vine, only for it to rear up and reveal itself as a long snake. Calmly, Sarah broke its neck, shrugged, and then tossed the other end over the wall at Pleasant. The trapped pirate screamed.
Rastalak sighed beside Fengel. Fengel winced. He turned to the Draykin. "So," he said casually. "I have been wondering. How did you come to lose the Lantern originally?"
The guide was quiet a moment. "Your kind exist in these lands. Your tribes war and trade with the Draykin, each to their own. I have wandered far from Yrinium, to escape the effects of the Burning Eye, and to seek a solution. It was not long ago that I came across other men, from a tribe much different, a tribe such as yours.
"I followed them for a time, learning this tongue. They were travelers, scouts. Their chief was a man called Silas of the Thorn, and they were strangers to all in this land. They sought treasures, to return them to their tribe beyond the Curtain of Winds. I was gladdened; they were perfect. I approached Silas of the Thorn. After some...misgivings...we came to an agreement. In the dead of night we crept into the great temple-manse of Yrinium, and stole out with the gem. Silas of the Thorn fled back to where he had come, and I thought that the end of it."
Rastalak covered his face with one hand. "Woe! The curse of the Great Masters has proven strong, however. The Burning Eye has corrupted those hands I trusted, bringing itself back to blight my people."
The Draykin guide quieted. Fengel frowned. A kernel of discouragement had taken root as Rastalak spoke. Fengel shook his head, clearing it. Silas Thorn stole in and took it away without a hitch. No reason why we can't do the same. And then he'd have it, and Natasha wouldn't. Though these Draykin would likely be more alert this time. He shrugged away the concern.
His crew recovered their companion. Fengel forbore from a withering chastisement. They were short on time and his disapproving stare should have to prove sufficient for now. With Rastalak leading the way again, they were back into the jungle, a seemingly endless expanse of thick foliage, biting insects, and creeping vines.
The moon rose high, and then sank low again. They encountered several more ruins along the way. Rastalak steered them around each time. Now properly warned, Fengel and his crew encountered no further issues. The Draykin treated each ruin oddly. It requested quiet as they passed, be they monolith, ruins, or simple statue. Fengel thought at first it was simple prudence, avoiding detection by the others of his tribe who would be presumably angered at their approach. It occurred to him that the cause might be something different, however; Rastalak hissed in displeasure when they would touch the stones, even just by accident.