Harry Discarded – The Silvergrey Sea

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Three: Conspiracies and Secret Orders

Harry Discarded

* * *

I lost track of the days as the routine of eating, passing out, waking tied up and getting über-fucked, passing out again, and waking untied and starving continued. I had become convinced the amazons were trying to literally fuck me to death. My memory was fraying, and I was having increasing trouble thinking. Balance and strength were waning, too.

Just about the time I was becoming philosophical about a death that was better than many I’d faced, the pleasure-torture ended. I woke after another session in a different room. No windows, one door. A single lamp by the bed dimly lit the space. I was on a pallet, fully clothed except for shoes and hat. I spotted both near the door.

Rising was easier than I’d feared. My balance issues were gone. As I walked to the stand to grab my hat, there was no dizziness. My lassitude seemed to have passed as well. Neither was I hungry.

Not trusting my luck to last, I quickly donned shoes and hat. The door was a bamboo affair with a handle that resembled twisted vines. After trying various pushes, pulls, and turns, squeezing the thing finally did something. An audible click and the door moved outward easily as I pushed.

The stone hall beyond ran straight for about forty feet and ended in daylight. After the relative darkness of the room, that small rectangle of light was too painful to look at directly. The hall was blackness to my sight.

Squinting and walking slowly, I moved toward what I hoped was an exit.

It was.

Blinking, eyes no longer tearing, I stepped into the day.

Pale jungle, scarcely distinguishable from the sky, was all I saw. There was a haze in the air, almost fog, that further denuded the flora’s nearly bloodless tones. I could hear the fauna, but only dimly.

Not a living soul did I see.

I was standing on the side of a modest stepped pyramid.

‘Modest,’ described the height, but not the size of the steps, tragically. It took half an hour and several hundred profanities to descend the twenty or so eight-foot-high levels.

I aimed for what looked like a footpath at the base of the structure. It turned out to be just that: a narrow strip of bare earth mostly hidden by foliage.

Having left my machete at home, I made the only choice I could.

Closer to, the animal noise was louder, though I never caught a glimpse of anything. Several times, I stopped and peered intently toward a sound, determined to catch a glimpse of at least one beastie.

After the fourth such failure, I concluded the native fauna had a mastery of camouflage that amounted to true invisibility.

As I followed the track, catching the occasional view of the sky, the volume and monotony of the animal congress was almost enough to drive me crazy.

Fortunately, footsoreness was there to distract me.

I never saw anyone, nor any sign of civilization in front of me during that whole long afternoon.

It was approaching evening when I broke free of tropical plant life and found myself on the edge of a small river, one of the tributaries of the Alph, no doubt.

A boat was tied to a post just at the edge of the water, doubtless put there so I could bugger off as efficiently as possible.

Realizing I had been summarily dismissed after my seed had (presumably) found fertile soil made me feel like a used condom. I spared a thought for the mother-to-be of my bastard, unsure whether to wish her well or curse her line until the end of time.

Such ruminations did nothing for my mood.

I climbed into the rather tippy craft, untied it, and pushed off into the river. The boat had two oars, but the current was strong enough that I decided to let it carry me wherever.

I noticed something under the plank that served as a seat. I reached down, grabbed a small leather bag, and opened it.

Whomever had let me go gifted me two packs of smokes and filled my lighter.

She’d left money on the dresser; a thought that made me smile.

At least I had been a whore worth paying, though booze would have been more welcome.

I guessed I hadn’t earned a tip.

I lit up, noting that it tasted rather good, and thought about my next move as the head rush made me dizzy.

Something else my captors had seen fit to return to me was my epad. I pulled it out of my pocket and began to think.

When I had come south, it had been to eliminate the possibility that Drago had been taken by the women as part of the intrasexual treaty of this world. I was no farther ahead on that and wasn’t anxious to try to contact anyone in this hemisphere again. So, what did I know?

Item : Nija Hermit had chartered the boat that had landed me with rapey Amazons.

Item : In my initial researches, I had come across no mention that the of the women of Kusini ever took offworlders for breeding.

Question : Why had they taken me?

Question : Why had a Hermetist helped?

Question : Was Nija part of the Meraculus Mercurius?

Question : Was all this to throw me off the scent or was it part of some larger plot?

Question : Did it have anything to do with my case?

Question : What was the Meraculus Mercurius up to and did it really involve Drago?

Conclusion : In light of my own experience, Drago’s story of abduction seemed more plausible; waylaying men going south on Hyborea had happened since his disappearance, at least once, anyway.

I needed Abram now, but my friend was back on Noir. That meant I needed to get to civilization. I was almost certain I was south of Kusini City and drifting with the current. Kusini, the Temple City to the north was the only option, and I’d need to get there faster than the river was flowing.

With a sigh for the long, tiring journey to come, I unshipped the oars and began rowing. The lit cigarette only made me cough twice. Thankfully, the breeze kept the smoke out of my eyes.

— Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, September 2026

© Gideon Jagged
All Rights Reserved