by A F Stewart
Ghosts of the
Sea Moon
Book One
Saga of the Outer Islands
A. F. Stewart
Ghosts of the Sea Moon
A. F. Stewart
Copyright © 2018 by A. F. Stewart.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Editing by White Board Writers
Cover design by A. F. Stewart
Original artwork courtesy of Pixabay
Maps by A. F. Stewart
For all the secret swashbucklers and pirates.
And for all my fellow Genre Writers of Atlantic Canada that helped me with the nautical research.
Table of Contents
Chapter One: The Captain
Chapter Two: Crickwell Island
Chapter Three: Come the Monsters
Chapter Four: Coming Back
Chapter Five: Ghosts
Chapter Six: Attacked
Chapter Seven: Goodbyes
Chapter Eight: Incoming Storms
Chapter Nine: The Oracle
Chapter Ten: The Portal
Chapter Eleven: Kraken
Chapter Twelve: Decisions
Chapter Thirteen: Soundings
Chapter Fourteen: Consequence
Chapter Fifteen: Rock Island Temple
Chapter Sixteen: Riptide
Chapter Seventeen: Isle of Shadows
Chapter Eighteen: The Sea of Perpetual Moon
Chapter Nineteen: The Moon and Monsters
Chapter Twenty: Attack!
Chapter Twenty One: A Reckoning
Chapter Twenty Two: Prisons
Chapter Twenty Three: Waning Moon
Chapter Twenty Four: Shipboard Battle
Chapter Twenty Five: Isle of Bones
Chapter Twenty Six: Last Battle
Chapter Twenty Seven: Concord
Chapter Twenty Eight: Ebbtide
Book Extra
Pronunciation Guide
List of Gods in the Book
Chapter One
The Captain
CAPTAIN RAFE MORROW paced the quarterdeck of his ship, Celestial Jewel, the signs of an oncoming squall setting him on edge. Blustering wind rattled the sails and the crew’s nerves, their usual jaunty hubbub reduced to grumbling and snipes. Trouble travelled on that wind. Rafe could smell it woven in the air, and his blood prickled with a sense of worry. The ship trembled as if with warning. He glared at the sky and its darkening clouds painted amber and crimson from the setting sun. A storm sky coming ahead of a full moon meant dark magic and sea monsters would prowl the waves this night.
The Moon Goddess will hold sway tonight.
A trickle of blue energy raced across the back of his hand at the thought.
Damn her...and her beasts.
On the breath of a sigh, he whirled to face his crew. “Storm’s coming, boys. Doesn’t bode well, not with the moonrise tonight.”
“How long, Captain? Will we be in the thick of the weather or just what comes after?” A rough-edged sailor, Pinky Jasper, spoke up, but all ears of the deck crew listened for an answer.
“It’s coming within an hour or two, out from Raven Rock, by my reckoning. After nightfall by certain. We’re heading in, boys, but we’ll likely hit the edge of it.” He heaved a breath, exhaling. “It’ll be a bad one even for this crew so expect trouble.”
A shiver of tension settled over the deck. Some of the crew cast worried glances at the sea and each other. Others shivered, and a few more whispered prayers. Storms brought bad memories and nervous anticipation to the sailors of this ship.
“Which port then, Captain?” The mariner at the ship’s wheel chimed in. “Might make Abersythe if we head north.”
“We might, Anders. But we head east. We’ll race the edge of the tempest, but it’s closer and the ship will find better shelter anchored at Crickwell Island.”
“Aye, sir. Laying in course to Crickwell Island.” One-Eyed Anders turned the wheel and the ship’s bones groaned. Others of the crew adjusted the sails, and the Celestial Jewel leaned into her new bearing headed east.
The gusting wind caught across her now full sails, and she increased momentum. Fresh sea air swept through the deck amid grunts and swearing as the vessel lit alive with activity. The smell of ripe sweat mixed into the salt-stained air as the night stayed warm.
Rafe smiled at the sights, sounds, and smells. The comfort of a familiar scene. He laid a hand on the rail, whispering to his ship. From below deck, deep in the workings and bowels of the vessel, the ship’s inherent magic blossomed into life. Energy quivered across wood and rudder, keel and mast, shuddering the ship into top sailing speed.
The race with the storm commenced.
Footsteps sounded behind the Captain, the scuff of stiff leather boots. “Something’s brewing, isn’t it?” The low, deep voice of the first mate drifted past Rafe’s ear cast against the night wind. “There’ll be creatures out tonight, but perhaps more than usual?” the first mate asked.
Rafe nodded, keeping his eyes towards the sea. “Another bad night, I fear, for some and for us, after. But we’ve handled worse, Blackthorne.”
“Have we?” Blackthorne asked. “The air seems...different, I suppose. A change in the wind, if you will.”
Rafe turned his head, surprised at the apprehension from his steadfast first mate. Behind him, Blackthorne stood ramrod straight, navy blue pea coat spic and span, tricorn hat perfectly in line, and clean shaven as usual. Yet, a wry and worried smile met Rafe’s gaze.
“That’s not like you, to say such things.”
“I know, but I can’t shake this sensation, a premonition perhaps. I feel...” He let the sentence trail off before briskly adding, “Will we see the Moon Goddess tonight?”
The surprising question startled the captain, but, choosing to ignore his first mate’s concerns, he shrugged and answered. “Perhaps. You never know when she’ll leave her island. She’s fickle, you know that. Odd of you to ask, though.”
Blackthorne shrugged. “It’s an odd night, I think.”
Rafe gave him a smile, an unaccustomed tidbit of reassurance from captain to first mate. “Well, it is moonrise. You never can tell what life and the sea will bring on a moonlit evening. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps there will be a happening tonight.”
Feet shuffled on deck, and Blackthorne stared toward the water. “I saw her for the first time when I was a lad. The Moon Goddess.” Blackthorne’s voice held a drop of frightful awe.
“Did you now, Mr. Blackthorne?” The edges of Captain Morrow’s mouth quirked, a touch of arrogance creeping like groundwater into his smile. “Did she make an impression?”
Blackthorne smiled. “Maybe a little. She glowed all silver and pale blue, and walked on the moonbeams over the ocean tide. Her ashen hair wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak...and her sapphire robe sparkled like the stars. She was beautiful and fierce, and scared me to my bones.”
The captain sighed, a memory gliding past his lips. “Aye. That was her.” He glanced at the light over the horizon. “She may well be out tonight with the full moon and the storm. You could get another chance at a glimpse.” He paused, not wanting to encourage his first mate’s curious mood too much. “But don’t try for more than a glimpse, or else she might take notice of you.”
Captain Morrow heard the sharp intake of breath and knew his point had been made. The first mate’s footsteps echoed away from him in a fad
ing cadence, and the stern bark of his orders followed. Rafe smiled, a memory tickling at the edge of his mind.
The Navy of the Royal Court didn’t know what they had, but I bless the fate that tossed Elliot Blackthorne to my deck. Not a more loyal man to be had in all the Seven Kingdoms or the Outer Islands.
Rafe felt the ship lurch under his feet as it leaned against the waves, deepening its eastern heading, and the sails furled out, billowed by the swelling wind. A stray finger of that wind ruffled the feather edges of Morrow’s hair and skimmed the brim of his hat. A rich scent of orchid tickled his nose and a sense of magic tingled his skin, which set his blood pumping. Blue energy flickered off his fingertips, and, in a heartbeat, his mood changed. He swivelled about, arms akimbo, and stared down his crew with a wicked grin.
“It’ll be a wild night, boys, and a glorious one! Come what may, the sea’s going to give us a ride this wondrous eve!”
The crew gaped in disbelief and bewilderment, but Rafe laughed. His eyes flashed a dark azure blue. “Ah, lads, we’re not a bunch of lily-livered sops. I say bring on the Moon Goddess! Bring on her beasts of the sea! We’ll send them back to the depths, every one!”
A cheer followed by laughter and guffaws rose from crew all around, accepting his challenge. With their blood fired up, their hearts raced the howl of the wind and the swell of the waves coming for them. Tonight, they would beat the storm to safe harbour, or face the consequences.
One-Eyed Anders hummed the notes of an old tune, and Captain Morrow tapped his foot in time. Short Davy started to sing:
Raise the sail, and say your prayers.
Come the moon.
Come the moon.
Come the sea-tossed moon
More voices joined in, and a lively noise threw itself to the dusky sky, a protection against the night.
Sail the storm
and say your prayers.
Come the moon.
Come the moon.
Come the sea-tossed moon.
Ward the magic.
Say your prayers.
Come the moon.
Come the moon.
Come the sea-tossed moon.
The monsters lurk.
so say your prayers.
Come the moon.
Come the moon.
Come the sea-tossed moon.
The ship echoed with the music, its structure taking heart and heed. The vessel heaved in the water, picking up speed, cutting a clip through the waves against the approaching gale. Standing at the stern, listening to his crew, Captain smiled.
“We make for Crickwell Island, men!” he shouted. “And damn the monsters!”
A cheer went up, its echo melding with the resounding notes of the song.
Come the moon.
Come the moon.
Come the sea-tossed moon.
Chapter Two
Crickwell Island
THE SHIP MADE IT TWO-thirds of the way to harbour before the storm hit. The blustering wind howled in first, rattling the sails and rigging like a loose pair of false teeth. Then the waves slapped the sides of the Jewel, pushing her against the sea and rebounding into her depths. The ship strained against the hands on her wheel, fighting the sea. One-Eyed Anders grunted, holding the wheel steady under the pressure until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll take the wheel. The storm’s coming in too fast.”
“Aye, Captain. We’ll need our best man at the helm.”
One-Eyed Anders relinquished the wheel to Captain Morrow and stepped off to other deck duties. Rafe felt the pull of ship the moment his hands grasped the wheel.
“Come on, old girl. A little storm like this can’t stop you.”
A groan from the ship was her answer. She lurched against the sea, but the bucking of the helm eased within his hands. The sea tossed the Jewel, and she rolled from one side to the other but stayed upright.
The captain steered her low side into the oncoming storm and kept her steady, the increasing winds giving her speed, hopefully enough to outrun the edge of the tempest.
“Shorten the sail, boys!” Rafe said, tossing an order back to the crew.
“Already underway, Captain,” came Pinky Jasper’s reply, and Rafe smiled as he listened to the shouts on deck. He had a good crew. “Man the rigging, boys!” Pinky’s harsh voice boomed, fighting to be heard over the wind. “If those square sails tear, there’ll be hell to pay! Get the trysails up and keep ’em trim!”
As if his words were a spiteful prayer, the abrupt and frightful sound of ripping cloth reverberated down the mast and onto the deck. Rafe’s heart skipped a beat and his white-knuckled hands gripped the ship’s wheel. The ship lurched and it was all he could do to hold her steady.
He heard more shouts and Blackthorne’s voice, “It’s the topgallant on the main mast! She’s letting go! Get her down! Get her down! And bring down the main topsail! We don’t want it going too!” The shouts were followed by a mad scramble of footsteps racing on deck.
Rafe glanced in their direction and saw the crew manning the lines. The tattered, damaged sheet and the remaining square-rigged sails came down faster than a drunken sailor’s slur, while they hoisted the replacements in record time. Rafe breathed a sigh of relief for his ship before a wave slammed into the side and he yanked against the pull on the wheel.
“The sea’s really starting to fight, lads! Keep your footing!”
Another vigorous wave stuck, and the sides heaved with a great moan. The great ship listed but sailed forward through the choppy seas. The ship rose on a sudden wave. Rafe tussled with the helm as the wave slammed down into the ocean. Salted spray, foam, and water washed across deck, and more than a few curses reverberated off the ship’s bones.
More rolling and heaving as the ship raced onward under ever darkening skies, the waves growing larger and fiercer. Sea slopped over the deck and swept overboard assorted flotsam—loose tack, gear, and other bits left unsecured.
Abruptly, the ship lurched, the wheel slipping in Rafe’s hands, and she heaved to the right, her hull at an angle. Rafe struggled to bring her to rights, barely holding her at a steady course among the crashing waves.
A haggard face burst out of the forecastle entryway from below deck. “A bloody gun hatch blew! We’re taking on water!”
Rafe yelled, “Go, Blackthorne! See we don’t sink!”
“Aye, Captain!” Blackthorne sprinted for the lower deck, shouting over his shoulder as he ran. “You have the main deck, Pinky! Keep those sails flying! Short Davy! Manfred! You’re with me!” And with those words, Blackthorne and the other two crewmen disappeared below.
The whip-thin Pinky Jasper caught the order of the departed first mate and barked in return, “You heard him, crew! On alert! We’ll ride this storm all the way to harbour!”
The crew echoed the cry. “All the way to harbour!”
The cheer rose to the charcoal sky as the clouds heaved and set free with rain that pelted the sea-tossed ship. Feet slid, curses bandied hither, and the crew turned to a wet drizzled lot as the ship cut through the roiling waves. The churning storm yowled, with the guttural essence of a wounded sea beast. The turbulent wind thwacked the sails, its invisible fingers cuffing the cloth and tugging at its fibre.
As the wind caught the remaining sails, she sped her pace, battling against the storm. The salt-crusted liquid splashed on deck as the rain torrents cried down from the skies. Suddenly, that same sky ripped open, torn with the splinter of lightning and the boom of thunder. A streak of fear crashed over the crew.
“Gods save us! If that hits us, we’re done for!” A wailing squeak piped out of a slip of a boy named Mouse.
“We only need one god, laddy,” snapped One-Eyed Anders, “and he’s at the helm!”
“Aye, he is!” Rafe grinned like a madman. “And by damnation, I’m master of this ship, and neither wind nor sea will sink her! It’s time I show this storm what I can do!”
With his feet firmly planted on the surging
wood of the deck, fingers holding a tight grip on the wheel, Rafe unleashed his power. His eyes glowed a pale blue, flecked with silver, and that same light poured from the wood and sheathed the circumference of the ship. The vessel shuddered, but not from the sea, or the elements, but from the primeval energy that emptied into its frame.
The light encompassing the ship shimmered and flashed, snaking down into the raging sea. As if in response, the sky roared with thunder. The murky clouds shook with wind and streaked with lightning. The waves reeled and swelled, but no angry sea waters reached the ship. Propelled on Rafe’s magic, the grand Celestial Jewel sailed on to port, buoyed against the weather. Behind them, the wild storm still howled.
THE SHIP SAILED LIKE falling starlight into the Crickwell Town harbour a short time later, having outraced the gale. Rafe steered her in to dock as a tired crew threw out the heaving lines and the shore workers pulled in the heavy mooring ropes. Working the capstans and by sight, both crews guided the damaged vessel into a berth without hindrance or trouble. Rafe gave a small sigh as they dropped anchors in welcome shelter.
Rafe slumped against the wheel, fatigue infusing his bones. He remained there, his breath, even. The sounds of his crew filled the night until a hand fell on his shoulder. He raised his head, and Blackthorne passed him a small glass full of amber liquid.
“Rum, sir. I thought you could use a drink.”
The captain gratefully accepted the liquor and downed it in one gulp. The fiery rum burned into his gullet and its warmth infused his blood, taking the edge off his weariness.
He gave Blackthorne an appreciative smile. “I think I’ll need a few more of those. But first I’ll need to declare to the harbourmaster, and give her fair warning of the storm. If she doesn’t know already, that is.”
