The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy)

by R. G. Triplett

  “Aye, sir,” Means said with a slight bow to the captain of the guard. “Me and my helmsman here, we have no other agenda than to carry out the orders of the Governor, sir.” His words were a mixture of appeal and mock apology.

  “There, you see Governor?” Tahd said, proudly displaying his authority. “The shores of the Wreath are all but at hand.”

  Seig nodded in stoic agreement before he spoke. “We will have double the glory, my friends. Glory for Haven, and glory for our new city that we will build upon these foreign shores.” A wide smile spread across Seig’s face. “GLORY! Captains, glory indeed!” he shouted in a jubilant voice.

  The two ships, both loaded with horses and supplies, men and provisions, made their swift way through the Bay of Eurwen, and soon the Resolve and Determination passed the inhospitable, rocky jetties that guarded the great sea lamp, Maris. It did not take long for the great ships to leave the relative safety of the bay, and before long, all that the eye could see was the open grey of the dark and expansive sea. Here, past the great sea lamp, the amber light of the tree was still visible, though weak at best.

  The Dark Sea, which once teemed with the business of ships both great and small, from cities both extant and forgotten, now billowed lonely waves across her vacant breadth. Not many dared to tempt the ruins of the shadowy unknown, much less the unpredictable and often extreme conditions, once the light of the great tree began to fail. The few fisherman, mariners, kings, and warriors brave enough to have set sail upon the black waters of the Dark Sea had never returned to their ports of berth. In ages past, the strength of the tree’s light extended to the full ends of this earth, but here in the waning of its glory, the sea was lit only by the faintest twilight. In some places beyond the expanse of the Dark Sea, the holy light had vanished altogether. It was in those forsaken shadows that the darker and most dangerous evils of Aiénor made their homes.

  “What do you think waits for us there in the dark unknown?” Tahd asked the governor.

  Seig thought briefly before he spoke. “Glory or death; for some of you, perhaps even a glorious death.”

  Tahd nodded in agreement, though a twinge of fear ran down his spine as a bolt of lightning cracked and splintered the greying sky off in the distant horizon.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The two great ships of Haven had traveled the better part of three days with a strong and swift east wind in their sails. The boats cut through the open waters of the Dark Sea with such haste that even now the shores of the outlying lands were no longer visible to the men upon the vessels. The farther they went away from the safety of their homeland, the closer they came to the storm that had been brooding there off the bow of the ships since they had left the Bay of Eurwen.

  The storm was massive, but here in the middle of the Dark Sea, it seemed a good ways off from their position. Most of the men had taken comfort in the fact that they had sailed the whole day and had not yet come upon the squall; they hoped that perhaps it was indeed moving farther away from them. But even the greenest of mariners knew that weather could never be trusted to behave predictably, especially at this distance from the tree’s protection. It could, in fact, turn on them faster than any ship could hope to outrun it.

  Horses and cargo were evenly dispersed between both of the ships as a way to keep the vessels topside in the roughest waters and to ensure that, in case of catastrophe, not all would be lost. The Resolve held most of the guardsmen as passengers and crew; she also carried a small handful of the woodcutters including Oskar the large, as well as Wielund the smithy and all of his supplies. Much of the tools needed to construct the new colony and the supplies enough to sustain its citizens were there aboard the fiery ship as well.

  Yasen and his woodcutters comprised the majority of the ranks aboard the Determination. The grey vessel was the lead ship of the two and served as the headquarters for the governor and the majority of the officers of the first colony.

  Cal had spent most of his day in and out of the ship’s main hold, tending to and talking with the herd of the first colony’s horses. He did his best to calm their nerves and see to it that they didn’t wound each other or anyone else in the process of their voyage. Deryn was particularly fascinated with the horses, and here in the secluded safety of the ship’s hold, he no longer felt the need to remain hidden away inside Cal’s cloak. Though not a single one of these horses had ever come across such a thing as a Sprite, none of them seemed to be afraid of the tiny, blue-winged sentinel. “There are so many different kinds,” he wondered aloud, “and so many different temperaments, too.”

  Cal thought for a moment while he mucked the stall from around one of the enormous draft horses. “There is so much more to this world of ours than the inside of my cloak pocket. I do wish that you would come out and see more of it with me.”

  “I would very much like to, Cal, though something inside tells me that now is not the right time to make my presence known just yet,” Deryn replied.

  “Well, perhaps when we finally reach the shores of the Western Wreath, huh? Or if by chance some particularly abrasive man goes around insulting your Queen again!” Cal said with a laugh.

  “He will not receive the same grace that your friend Michael did, of that you can be certain,” Deryn said a bit too defensively.

  “Duly noted, mighty sentinel, duly noted,” Cal said with a wry smile.

  After Cal had finished with the horses’ evening meal, and after Deryn had returned to his hiding place inside Cal’s cloak, the groomsman made his way atop the ship’s foc’sle. By the faint light of the silver fire he stared off into the horizon to see what he could see of their coming course. The wind danced about him as the smell of salt and the wet of the cold spray woke his mind anew. The men of the first colony were either resting in the berths below or cleaning up from the evening’s meal down in the galley in the aft of the vessel.

  Apart from a few men at the wheelhouse and the lookout positioned at the bow, Cal was mostly alone there atop the foc’sle deck. His eyes ran over the silver capped waves that rolled and swelled in the dark waters below him, and as he watched, a small pod of dolphins came out to play and hunt in the evening’s silver light.

  Just then, unexpected and unlooked for, a white Owele came and rested upon the branch-like railing right in front of him. Cal was so surprised that he nearly fell over backwards onto the grey deck, but he managed to steady himself against the foremast and keep himself upright. Cal quickly looked about to see if anyone else had noticed the large, snowy-white bird of prey perched upon the deck’s railing. As he did, he heard the familiar screeching sound of the Owele’s voice inside his mind.

  Calarmindon.

  “How … where did you …” Cal stumbled over his words; the surprise of the moment flooded him with apprehension of what other unknown possibilities he was yet to be made aware of. “What … what would you have of me?” he asked sheepishly.

  There will be great and alluring temptations that will beckon you to follow their lesser and darker causes, Calarmindon. And so it is because of this that I have been sent with a message.

  The violet eyes of the mysterious bird shone bright in the silver light of evening. Cal waited nervously for whatever words warranted the sending of such a holy messenger to this forsaken center of the Dark Sea.

  Take heart that you do not abandon your call, Bright Fame. For the THREE who is SEVEN has chosen you to complete what He has set in motion.

  “I promise, I will never yield this cause. I will not rest ‘til I find the light,” Cal said bravely as he stood firm in the wind and the salt of the ocean.

  Ah, but you will, Calarmindon. Three times you will fail, three times you will lay down your calling for seemingly brighter lights, and three times the shame of failure will tempt your heart to abandon this quest altogether.

  For the first time in all of Cal’s interactions with the holy birds, the Owele conveyed something akin to tenderness, there in the cadence of his unheard voice.
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  You must remember my words, Calarmindon. For you will fail, but you have been chosen, and you have been chosen not for your great victories or hardened resolve, but for your ability to hope … even in the darkest times.

  The Owele’s violet eyes stared and shone even brighter now, with a searing clarity that seemed to penetrate deep into Cal’s heart. Cal did not know what to say, for he had not known the Oweles to speak lies, and yet he could not, or perhaps did not want to, accept these words as truth. Even though most of the places that these frightful birds had brought him had led to one sort of pain or another, it was these words that cut him with a different and deeper kind of pain.

  The white-feathered Owele turned his stare from Cal’s eyes to his cloak and addressed the Sprite hidden there.

  Deryn, sentinel of the house of Iolanthe.

  The blue-winged Sprite came out from his hiding place and kneeled before the great, white Owele.

  “Hail Haizea, Wind of God. I am but a humble servant to the will of our great Father, so speak His words and I shall carry them on to completion.” The Sprite spoke with reverent eloquence.

  You must help him remember. You must help him remember the words I have just given him, and when it was that I brought these words to him. For he will need one who will wake his heart again, lest shame and doubt cripple him forever.

  “I do not understand,” Deryn said.

  Nor should you need to, though you must help him remember nevertheless.

  Deryn stared silently into the violet eyes of this holy bird, and was overcome with revelation that transcended the need for more words. Haizea turned his gaze from the Sprite sentinel and back onto the groomsman who watched with wonder atop the deck of the Determination.

  Seek the light, Bright Fame, and remember what I have told you. May the light of the THREE who is SEVEN burn bright in you both.

  With that, the Owele raised his enormous white wings and shot to the sky in a blur of feathers. The torrent of wind that rushed from his wings caused the sails of the great ship to strain against her large masts in protest. Haizea flew high, out of sight of the young groomsman aboard the Determination. As Cal searched the silver darkness for a sign of the Owele, a huge rush of wind came from behind him. He spun around in time to see the great bird flying towards him from behind the Resolve. Peering through the tempest of wind blowing against him, he saw that it was not only Haizea, but six other Oweles as well. As their wings pounded the air they sent violent gusts of unnatural wind directly towards the straining sails of the two unsuspecting vessels.

  Cal glanced around the deck, but the few sailors about didn’t seem to notice the birds flying towards them. They were, however, quite preoccupied with the intense air current that had begun to propel them swiftly into the coming storm. The flames of the night torches did not survive the gusts of unlooked for wind, and both ships were propelled forward with a speed never before seen by any mariner of these black waters.

  Cal ducked low as the Oweles swooped past the sails of the Determination. The men on the deck were calling out now, as everyone realized the dangerous and difficult situation they had unexpectedly found themselves in. The water around the ship began to wake in angry waves, and the sounds of the winds swirled and howled through the taught lines and large sails. The lookout rang his large, iron bell and shouted to the men below. “Storm is coming! Storm straight ahead!”

  The men poured out from the lower decks and filled their eyes with the sight of their impending doom. Straight ahead, barely a league away, a wall of violent rain and splintering lightning stared ominously back at them. The once rolling waves of silver-capped sea now turned violent in their agitated fury, and the flags of the bright city whipped back and forth in the unpredictable will of the raging wind.

  Men everywhere were running and scrambling along the main decks of the great ships, frantically securing ropes and battening down supplies. The ships careened through the rough waters, sending sprays of cold salt water high upon the decks and covering the men in the dark dampness.

  “Governor!” Yasen shouted through the swirling wind. “Shouldn’t we change our course? I am not so certain that this storm will be as hospitable to us as we might hope!”

  “Yasen, the hero of the North, is made scared by a little wind and a little rain?” Seig said in a mocking question.

  “It is not a matter of the measure of my courage, Governor, but of the success of this colony. And no colony, no matter how brave it might seem, can succeed from the bottom of the Dark Sea!” Yasen shouted back.

  The ships were moving closer and closer to the angry, black squall that rumbled and shook the very decks of the vessels with its violent thundering. The haunting sounds of the howling wind grew louder and louder with each passing moment as it drew in the Resolve and the Determination with its reckless gravity.

  “Captain Means?” Yasen questioned the old man who was regarding their exchange. “Surely you would advise going around the squall?”

  “Oh, our great and gifted governor is more than capable of making such a decision,” Means grumbled. “I’m here only to serve.” With that he raised his hands and stepped away from the officers, signaling his clear withdrawal from any form of decision-making.

  “Sir!” Yasen shouted again to Seig. “I implore you to reconsider, and let us set our course southward. For we might even now avoid the full fury of the storm and still reach our destination without sustaining great casualties!”

  Seig stared off, in deep thought, from high upon the bridge deck, his gaze fixated on the black tempest that brooded just off the bow of the great ship. His wild, dark eyes were illuminated with each crack and finger of lightning that streaked the black sky. “Captain, Yasen …” Seig said calmly at first, his voice rising in volume as his words progressed, “… and men of the first colony!” He began to shout. “There are some here, even now at our first sign of adversity, who would choose to alter our course and deviate from our most holy of missions! But fear not, for I am not of such cowardice and puny resolve!”

  The men of the Determination all looked to each other with worried expressions. They had been frantically securing lines and preparing the ship to attempt to outrun the storm in either direction, but when their governor addressed them with this madness, the weight of the possible consequences robbed them of whatever hopes they had about making it out of this mess unscathed.

  “It is the will of the THREE who is SEVEN that we shall succeed, so I am not afraid of any storm or any hell that might stand in our way!” Seig continued, his words punctuated by the cracking of lightning and dark rolls of thunder. “Captain, have your men signal the Resolve, for we will run this storm right through the gullet, and show all who have eyes to see just how brave and resolute the men of the first colony are!”

  “Governor?” Yasen asked, the anger in his words barely bridled under the guise of decorum. “There is no shame in prudent wisdom, but there is great folly when reckless bravery trumps good sense! And besides that, there won’t be any eyes to see, or voices to tell of, if all of our brave and resolute souls are sunk to the bottom of the Dark Sea!”

  “I am the one in command of this colony, not you, woodcutter!” Seig shouted back. “Get your men ready, or I will see to it that they will be your men no longer!”

  The two men stared hard and unforgiving at each other, while surges of cold seawater and torrents of wind washed and whipped through the grey ship. Yasen finally broke the stalemate with a protested consent. “As you wish,” he growled, not hiding his anger at the unwise decision.

  Means had one of the junior officers signal the Resolve by using two polished brass lanterns, and Yasen hurriedly left the bridge. He held tight to the rail lines, holding himself steady against the gusts of wet and wind, as he made his way to the main deck with the rest of his company.

  “What would you have us do, Chief?” Goran asked him.

  Yasen looked back over his shoulder to the towering figure of Seig, unrelenting abo
ve his worried men, and then looked back again to his bald, woodcutting friend. His eyes betrayed his own doubts, but his words did not. “Alright men! Tighten yourselves up, for we have a storm to run though!” Yasen shouted. “Let us all pray that the THREE who is SEVEN has indeed given us his favor, huh?”

  The men all kissed their flints, all except Cal, who had been staring off into the sky from the foc’sle deck near the foremast. Cal had never seen a storm like this before, and the sheer magnitude of the imposing black clouds caused his heart to sink. “They did this!” Cal shouted to Deryn. “The Oweles blew us straight into the storm! What if we cannot withstand it? How will I find the light if I can’t even make it to shore?”

  “Take heart, Cal,” the small voice of Deryn spoke from inside his cloak. “For the great Father would not have sent one of his Oweles to bring you the words he did if a storm would so soon be the cause of your demise!”

  Rain began to pound hard and fast upon the deck of the ship, and the wind turned the droplets of water into what felt like thousands of small, hardened stones. Cal shielded his eyes with his hand and held as tightly as he could to the branch-like railings.

  “I am glad I have you, Deryn!” Cal yelled out. “Though I know your words to be true, my heart has a hard time believing them at this moment.”

  “All hearts might have a hard time recognizing truth when there are storms staring them down!” Deryn shouted back. “Perhaps that is why He gives us the truth before the waves rise and the rains crash? So we can lash our hearts to the ancient masts and hold onto the truth enough to weather the violent tempests.”

  “You are a wise little Sprite, aren’t you, Deryn?” Cal shouted against the wind with a worried smile.

  “Cal!” Yasen shouted from across the deck. “Cal, come here, man!”

  The ship began to rise and fall on the large and angry waves, making it almost impossible to walk in a straight line atop the deck of the grey ship. Cal dashed in-between masts and railings, holding tight to cargo nets and sail lines as waves of cold water crashed upon the already rain-soaked deck. Men were climbing the slippery ladders in an effort to secure sails and bowlines before they encountered the worst of it. The governor had ordered the ship to charge headlong into the black storm, tempting both the fates and the quality of Carina’s craftsmanship with this daring move, and the men had no choice but to give their best and hope they made it through the storm alive enough to tell the tale.