The Dark Sea Beyond

by Rye Sobo

  “Yes, sir.”

  He turned to leave, then stopped as if he had remembered something. “I am well aware that you are some sort of minstrel at home. As a junior officer on my ship, there is to be no fraternization with the crew.”

  “No sir,” I said. Two months and only able to speak with a handful of people. This would be a test of my will.

  ***

  After another check of my vitals, Flores cleared me to return to duty. The doctor’s instructions were welcome, given I had little interest in manual labor during this voyage. I was to avoid heavy lifting and take care not to strain my arm for the next several days, nor was I to climb the mast until cleared by the doctor. With that, he directed me down the corridor to the cabin of Midshipman Dufor.

  When I speak of the cabins on the Delilah Fritzbink, you shouldn’t confuse them with spacious officer quarters, complete with an ever-changing view of the Azurean Sea, such as you would find on the large galleons or pleasure schooners. Even for my size the quarters were cramped. The cabin Midshipman Dufor, Cort, and I were to share was narrow enough I could touch either bulkhead. There were no views of the outside, and the cabin was at the waterline. A single rack with a straw mattress, a stand for a wash basin, and a small wardrobe for uniforms were all the furnishings afforded to the space. Add to that, a gnome dangling from the overhead like a prized melon in a merchant’s stall.

  I had no possessions to speak of, save my torn shirt, breeches, and boots. As the rest of the crew were adult humans and an orc, the young midshipman and I were to share a wardrobe along with quarters.

  As fortune would have it, a thirty-five-old gnome is surprisingly similar in size to a ten-year-old human.

  After taking a mark or two to wash in the basin, I slipped into one of the boy’s shirts and a dark blue tunic, doing my best to imitate the appearance I had seen so many times before.

  I climbed the ladder to main deck just in time to watch a massive boot connect with the chest of my new cabin mate and send him tumbling to the deck. Two of the deckhands near the mast laughed as they tended to their duties and watched the display.

  “A pirate will show you no mercy because you are small,” Sergeant Leon said. He shared the same smooth Laetian accent as the captain and medic though he had a deep baritone voice that boomed across the deck. “You must be fierce. Get up, try again.”

  The hulking man saw me crest the ladder and turned his unwanted attention in my direction. I held my hands out, fingers spread far apart to show I had no weapon.

  “Masters Dufor and Alsahar, please join me,” Captain Azpa said from the quarterdeck.

  Cort tucked his cutlass into a white sash around his waist and darted aft toward a ladder which led up to where the captain was standing. I bobbed and wobbled like a drunkard on a Carnis night bender as I tried to find my footing on the ever-shifting deck. The two deckhands at the mast roared with laughter as I swayed.

  I reached the ladder and climbed up to the quarterdeck.

  “You would rather he remembers us fondly when he is company paymaster,” I heard Captain Azpa say to someone in hushed tones.

  “Aye, Captain,” was the reply, so defiant it was almost spit at him.

  The captain was standing next to a dark-skinned woman with somewhat Elven features. He stared at me in stunned disbelief as I stumbled across the deck to stand next to Cort.

  “You really have never been on a ship at sea,” he said in a half question, half accusation. His tone made his intended meaning clear. You are the son of a famed merchant sailor! Act like it.

  “No sir.”

  “Part of your responsibility will be to learn to helm the ship,” Captain Azpa said. “It seems we may need to start with the basics. Master Alsahar, Lieutenant Adira Bitar, my first mate. I will leave you to her instruction in helmsmanship.”

  Captain Azpa headed down the ladder to his cabin at the stern of the main deck.

  Lieutenant Bitar sighed, “Right, pay attention. Forward, Aft, Starboard, Larboard. Got it?”

  Her hand pointed to the front, rear and either side of the ship.

  “This is the tiller,” she said with her hand resting on a long horizontal spar. She used a slow, antagonizing cadence in her explanations. “This is how you turn the ship. If you push the tiller larboard, the ship will move in that direction.”

  She pushed on the large wooden pole. The ship leaned to one side as it began a long, slow arc through the water. She then pulled the tiller the opposite direction, and the ship arced back.

  “Now, you notice that even if you even stand on each other’s shoulders, you cannot see beyond the forecastle,” the first mate continued. “To navigate the ship, you need a spotter. Master Dufor, man the forecastle and guide us through an imagined reef.”

  The young boy darted down the ladder and across the main deck. He climbed the ladder up to the forecastle and waved back. Lieutenant Bitar motion for me to take the tiller. The massive pole rested level with my head. Bitar motioned to Cort across the ship.

  “Shoal off the starboard bow!” Cort shouted.

  Starboard, which direction was that? I tried to remember the direction Bitar had pointed.

  “Make a decision, midshipman!” the first mate barked behind my head.

  “Starboard, Right!” I pushed the tiller to the right.

  “Congratulations!” she said. “You ran us aground.”

  “What? He said starboard,” I said.

  “He said the shoal was off the starboard bow,” she spit the command back. “Again, Master Dufor!”

  “Whale! Larboard Bow!” the voice was deeper than anything Cort could muster.

  Bitar pushed the tiller the same direction I had a moment before. The ship creaked and groaned as it rolled to one side. I struggled to keep my footing as the Fritzbink traced a sharp arc in the dark blue waters. The ship leveled itself as a massive gray creature burst out of the water, curved and rose six, maybe ten, fathoms into the air before it crashed back into the sea. My knees buckled as water from the monster sprayed the ship.

  “Sea monsters,” I said in a tone so hushed no one could hear it above the constant wind.

  “I think you’ve had enough for today,” Lieutenant Bitar said as she noted my startled expression. “Master Dufor, a word!”

  Cort scrambled from the forecastle and across to the quarterdeck.

  “You were manning the spotter’s post, were you not?” the first mate barked to the boy when he arrived, breathing heavy.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then why did the call about the whale come from Mister Bly?”

  “I was distracted by the creature, ma’am.”

  “Master Alsahar, you are dismissed,” the first mate said. “Master Dufor, you will be scrubbing the deck from stem to stern. Perhaps that will help you focus on your ship and not a large fish.”

  “Aye, ma’am,” the boy said, his eyes drifted down to the deck.

  I moved down the ladder with caution, my legs less sure of each step as I moved across the main deck to the hatch that led below deck. I knew what a whale was. I had heard stories from sailors, read about them at the University. All the same, there was something spectacular and terrifying about seeing a beast three times the size of the ship breach the water only a few fathoms away.

  The bracing, salty wind above deck stung my face and reddened my ears, even as the sun reached midday. The wool tunics of the officers made more sense now than they ever could in the hot, dry Drakkan sun. I climbed down the ladder into the dark interior of the ship. My nostrils were at once more assaulted with the odor of stale sweat and the tar that kept the old wooden boat dry.

  I braced myself against the bulkheads and worked my way toward the cabin. My stomach, half-full of day-old whiskey and water, turned over as each wave crashed into the ship. At the end of the corridor, the door to Doctor Flores’ cabin was ajar.

  “Master Alsahar, a moment please,” Tomas said from beyond the door.

  “How did you k
now it was me?” I asked.

  “I could hear you using the walls to navigate the corridor,” he said. “You, my friend, would be the only one to do such a thing in calm seas.”

  I gave a sheepish grin and a nod of knowing. My innards were sloshed with every pitch and roll of the ship. My vision swirled and throat burned. Tomas recognized my condition and leapt to his feet far faster than I thought the large man capable.

  He placed his open hand, palm toward me, against my stomach and muttered a few words to himself. I felt a wave of warm, soothing energy flow over me and then subside, my queasiness gone.

  The doctor nodded with approval at his work then handed me a chunk of bread and sausage from the bureau with the metal water pitcher and tankards. He motioned me to sit in his chair. The leather padding embraced my aching body as I consumed the first morsels of food in almost a day.

  “The sickness will go away in a few days,” he said as he poured whiskey into one of tankards. “But that is partially why I called you in here,”

  “Lunch?” I asked.

  “No, no,” he said. “Am I correct to assume you studied at the University for several years, yes? As I understand, it is the practice of the gnomes.”

  I nodded and swallowed a mouthful of bread.

  “My father started my education when I was two or three,” I said. “If you count that, I was a student for about thirty years.”

  “Thirty years! That is nearly half of my lifetime,” he said. “In your studies, did you spend much time on the arcane arts?”

  “Some,” I said, unsure of his questions. “Mostly I focused on the School of Illusions, though I’ve dabbled in the other schools.”

  “I studied Biomancy, as you just saw,” he said. “Have you had much practice in that?”

  “Only a little,” I admitted. “Enough to patch a minor scrape or cut. I could never tap into the yili of a person to manipulate the Fabric.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Finding a proper energy source can be quite difficult,” he said, “particularly if the patient is severely injured. If I could show you how to draw the yili, would you like to study Biomancy while you are aboard? I could use the help—Lar knows Reno is of little use.”

  “Reno is an arcanist?”

  “A battle mage,” Tomas said. “Handy in a fight, but he is useless in the aftermath. I have heard the rumor the captain is too, but I have never seen it.”

  “Really? Well, if the captain agrees, I would be happy to help here,” I said. “I’d be of better use here than I am on the quarterdeck, that’s certain.”

  “Good,” the doctor said with a smile. “I will have a talk with him this evening.”

  With that, I left the doctor’s cabin and made my way back to my own.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ijoined the senior members of the crew for supper in the officers’ mess. A traditional Drakkan meal of goat stew with potatoes, onions, and peppers was served by the ship’s steward. Fresh apples and bread were included on the table and a cask of ale brought from below deck.

  The table was a fathom and a half long and made for utility rather than the luxury you would find on a larger vessel. It was crafted of the same rough-hewn timbers as the ship, with six simple chairs around it. Despite the lack of formalities, one could determine their place in the ship’s hierarchy by where they sat at meals. Captain Azpa and Lieutenant Bitar sat at one end and discussed courses and current position. Tomas and Reno sat across from each other and debated which of the two did less work. Someone told me this was an argument that had raged for several years, each accusing the other of being the dead weight. Cort and I sat at the far end of the table. He was enthusiastic about having someone else aboard the ship to talk to. I got the feeling he spent a lot of time sitting alone at the foot of the table.

  “Enjoy this while it lasts,” Cort said.

  I looked at him with confusion.

  “The food,” he said. “We stock up on fresh food when we are in port, but it’s never enough for the whole voyage. We’ll be dining on hardtack, bone broth, and dried meats once the fresh stores are gone.”

  “And we have enough of that to last the rest of the voyage, right?” I asked. “I’d heard stories of ships getting blown off course and running out of food.”

  “Oh yeah, that happens with some smaller companies,” Cort said. “But the Southern Empire Trading Company always has enough stores for a voyage twice the length. That way we could get there and back without restocking if needed.”

  Pleased as I was to be here and not in a cell under the Black Keep, a week on bone broth and rock-stale bread wasn’t what I hoped for.

  “Don’t worry, we also have fishing equipment,” the boy continued. He ate as he spoke. “And Majid, Fawz, and Tamal are some of the best fishermen I’ve ever seen. Every voyage I’ve been on we had enough fish for the officers and crew. They really have an easy job on the ship. They spend a lot of time on deck fishing.”

  “You should try eating first, then speaking, my friend,” Tomas leaned over and corrected the young boy. “It would make it easier for others to understand you.”

  “Yessir,” Cort said as he wiped his face with a napkin.

  “How many voyages have you been on?” I asked Cort.

  “Fifteen. This makes sixteen,” he said. “I became a midshipman when I was eight. My first few voyages were short, only a few days. But now I’m on the Fritzbink and gone for a span at a time. One day I hope to be an officer on one of the big galleons. I want to travel to Laetia, and Nivalis, and maybe even Jia!”

  “Nobody’s been to Jia in over a hundred years,” I said. “I bet half the crew doesn’t think it exists.”

  The boy fidgeted in his seat, “I know. That’s why I want to go. How many voyages have you been on?”

  “Successful? This one,” I said.

  Cort’s eyes grew wide, “This is your first cruise?”

  “The last ship I was on sank in the harbor,” I admitted.

  “You have to be a really bad captain to sink your ship in a harbor,” Cort said with a chuckle.

  “You do,” I said with what I hoped was more amusement than shame in my voice.

  ***

  After supper was over, I asked to speak with Captain Azpa and was waved toward the head of the table.

  “I was hoping to skip tonight’s astronomy and navigation lesson,” I said.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked.

  “Between the chase and injury last night, and the seasickness today, I don’t have much wind left in my sails,” I said. It was a phrase my mother had used often when I was younger.

  “If I let you go, I will not find you singing and playing cards with the crew in an hour?” he said. The captain had a way of asking questions that were commands.

  “No, I gave you my word,” I said. “Besides, I don’t think I could lift an instrument let alone play it.”

  “Good,” he said. “Then turn in early. Reveille is at dawn.”

  I thanked him and stepped out of the mess on the main deck.

  I had heard several stories from sailors at the Rusted Sextant about what the sea did to a man at night. Not the creatures in the sea, those were stories cut from a different cloth.

  No, the sea itself could drive a man mad at night. The vast unending darkness of the open sea, removed from the commotion of others, leaves plenty of room for a man’s mind to stretch out and wander as it sees fit. Whales, serpents, even the Kraken, the terrors of the deep do not come close to the horrors that lurk the minds of men.

  I could not let my mind free to wander in the darkness of the ocean., not that first night. I needed it confined, sealed away. I needed to feel safe. Deep within the ship I kept my mind from the endless expanse of the darkness.

  The sun erupted into an explosion of reds, oranges, and golds, the beautiful death throes of the day. I caught a waft of the lower decks mixed with the familiar aroma of goat stew I so recently ate. My stomach called for a mutiny.
>
  I needed to brace myself against the bulkhead a few times as I made my way to my cabin and climb up into my hammock.

  In the gentle sway of my makeshift rack, I found sleep with ease.

  ***

  In my dreams, I returned to Drakkas Port. Not to the Sextant, nor my family home. Instead I walked the grounds of the University where I had spent so much of my earliest days.

  Much of my education was at the hands of my father, the archmage of the Imperial University library. It was under his tutelage I first learned the arcane arts.

  I dreamed of the Fabric, the many fine fibers of the universe that make up all that is, or was, or will be. The threads that tie all things together. With the threads of the Fabric, an arcanist can manipulate the world around him, bend it to his will.

  In my waking hours, I sometimes thought I saw the threads of the Fabric. In my dream though, every thread was clear. I saw the threads of the light and the flames. The threads of people in the hallways reaching out from the distant past to the future. Some threads passed through me and changed. Other threads intertwined with mine and seemed to disappear.

  I heard my father’s instruction on the how to manipulate the Fabric.

  “It is with this source of energy, the yili, that the arcanist can pass his will, his agoti, to the Fabric,” he said. “Every magic known to man requires three components: energy, will, and focus. The yili, agoti, and sebi. With enough of these components I can pass my hand through a stone, create a fire in midair, or heal a wound.”

  “Where can I find the yili?” I asked.

  “It is everywhere,” my father said. “It is in the flames, in the sun, in the wind, it is inside a person.”

  Through the threads of my dream I saw the white glow of my father’s yili inside him. It was strong and bright. It was almost solid. His yili held a certainty. I looked down at my chest. I saw the yili in myself. But where my father’s yili was strong and certain, mine was chaotic, a constant state of change. One moment it was white, the next blue, then gold, green, red. It seemed like it wanted to take every form at once.