2 – Golems on the Shore

“Beg fockers, they were. Beg as a huys!”
The rugged sailor shook his tankard for emphasis, spilling more than a few drops of his brew. His dialect had been difficult enough to understand while sober. Now, with him near three sheets to the wind and myself a fair one-and-a-half, I had to struggle to keep up. (With the story as well as the drinking.)
“Staundin’ right there on the beach, still-like. Head like a boulder, no grimace on its fehs, nothin’.”
I nodded sagely, or so I hoped, and took a sip of the swill that passed for beer in this establishment. My conversation partner drained his mug, stood up – surprisingly steady – and mumbled something unintelligible. Then he shambled towards the bar, squeezing between patrons, earning looks of pity as he went.
“You dain’t believe him, eh?” asked someone behind me. I turned around to see a wiry young man with a well-kept, coppery beard.
“Oh, I mean no offense,” I assured him. “But Navy men, especially drunk Navy men, have a certain tendency to embellish their tales. Then again, exaggerating the size of a foe is more the domain of smaller men, and this fellow is half-bear, I’d wager.”
“Aye, Coyle is a large lad. And sailors and soldiers alike do spin a story further than most. But this one is honest enough.”
“Honest is one thing. Given to poetic license is another.”
“It happened how he said it, though. My captain was right there by him, and he wouldn’t speak a lie lest his life depended on it. And he’s not one for drinking, neither. So Coyle says golems, and golems they was.”
“Hmm. Say, mister…?”
“Cartwright. Private Godfrey Cartwright. And you are?”
“Markham. Journalist by trade. Do you mind if I ask you some questions? Better yet, could you introduce me to your captain?”

I still found it hard to fathom. But with four first-hand witnesses and three independent events, it was becoming difficult to deny. The Spanish were using monsters to fight the war.
Cartwright’s commanding officer, Captain Wesley of the Royal Army, had given me much the same information as Coyle, albeit in clearer terms and impeccable English. On the evening of August 6th, sailing up the Puget Sound in the brig Tenacious, the crew had spotted towering figures on the banks of the river. Drawing closer to shore, they found that just beyond the forest’s edge were stood man-like creatures, twenty feet tall and made of what looked like roots and branches twisted around rock. By their feet lay piles of rubble.
The golems, as they are now called in the papers, were stationed one every hundred yards or so, seemingly motionless. Until they weren’t.
First, the man in the crow’s nest called out that there was a signal fire lit in the Spanish fort upriver. Then, as the Captain put it, there came a command from the treeline – first in Spanish and then in what might have been Polish or Czech (said Wesley, “my knowledge of Slavic tongues is woefully limited”). Upon that call, the giants on the beach sprang to life, picked up the stones beside them, and started hurling these with deadly precision toward the ships.
Two vessels went down almost immediately – the second brig of the company, the Hunter, as well as a schooner christened the Silver Tern. During the unrelenting bombardment from the golems, all British ships present took some form of punishment, sinking soon thereafter. All but the Tenacious.
Captain Wesley claimed the crews of the various ships tried to return fire, “but any cannonballs that managed to hit the brutes bounced off as were they pebbles”. The Royal Navy was forced to make a hasty retreat towards the safety of Fort Barrington, unable even to save their men in the water. Only the lone brig made a safe return, though with three crewmen lost and one severely injured.

“I had nightmares for weeks afterwards,” Wesley admitted. “So did most of the men who survived. Good thing I’m an Army man, for I’d rather not set foot on a ship again. I suspect the rocking alone would send shivers down my spine.”
“But you’ve seen combat before, surely? And survived more than your fair share of Spanish cannonade?”
“My good sir, you don’t understand. The projectiles shook us, to be sure, but a seasoned soldier or seaman can stand such conditions. But the golems themselves… They were – how do I put it – eerie. Even as they stood there, silent and unmoving, they birthed in me a sense of unease, almost disgust. I could see that same aura tugging at the senses of the men. They are unnatural, to be sure, and not of God’s making. How does one fight such a thing?”
“Well, if made by man, surely they can be unmade by man?”
“Or by God, one should hope. I pray He does that soon, or those abominations may well help the Spanish turn the tide of war.”

I finished writing my report and sent it to my superiors at the Ministry. Two weeks later, McLyle called me into his office.
“Ah, Markham, come in,” he greeted me. “Read the report. Good work. Have some news – sit, boy, by all means sit – some news for you. Strange stuff, out of New Catalonia.”
“Thank you, sir.” I lowered myself into the chair opposite him. “Strange in what way?”
“Well, it’s the damnedest thing. I hear rumours of another golem event just outside Bosco de Cantigas. Apparently the 2nd Welsh Dragoons were attacked.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”
“No, Markham, that’s just it. They got away nearly unscathed. The golems just stopped.”
“Stopped? What do you mean, ‘stopped’?”
“Well, there was this girl with the troops, Norwegian mercenary. Decided to start singing. In the middle of combat. And the monsters just froze. Still as stone, no pun intended.”
“That is… good, isn’t it?”
“Oh, very. I think. Anyway, the girl is missing.”
“That’s less good, sir.”
“It’s rather complicated, too. Here’s the file. Read it through, Markham. Should tell you everything you need to know.”
“Everything I… for what?”
“Well, you’re going to find her, of course. It’s rather important, and I believe you are just the man to do it. So read the file, pack your bags, and say goodbye to your sweetheart, if you’ve got one. We’re sending you to America.”
“Really, sir, I…”
“You what?”
“Uhm. I’m not sure a war zone is quite my speed, sir.”
“Nonsense! You’ve shown you’re a clever and able young man. Think of it as an opportunity for adventure while also serving your King and country. Every young man’s dream. Also, I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Oh, dear.”
“What’s that, Markham?”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Dismissed.” He gave me a curt nod, then looked back at the papers on his desk.

I closed the door to McLyle’s office before I dared breathe – then breathed very deeply for a minute or ten. What had I got myself into? Golems, singing mercenaries, New Catalonia.
Oh, shit.