“Nay, Brekk, for I know thy kind are masters of such.”
“Then what is your point, Captain?”
“Just this, Armsmaster: whereas Rutcha were made in the spirit of Gyphon, hence are incapable of change, Humans are malleable and can alter their behavior-for good or ill, I admit. Yet, heed: mayhap yon Rovers, though now like unto fleeing snakes, perhaps are frightened enough to give up their vile ways, for unlike vipers and Spaunen, Humans can indeed change. Yet, Brekk, I promise thee this: I have marked them well, and should either of those same ships be plying these lanes when we return, then will we hunt them down, day or night, and slay them to the last man.”
The armsmaster growled and glared at the crimson sails of the fleeing pair of ships. “Mayhap were it a lethal viper, I would slay it on the spot to prevent it from even the possibility of striking an innocent victim. I think these poisonous Rovers deserve the same fate, for unlike the snakes of which you speak, the brigands seek out the blameless to do them harm.”
Aravan nodded. “There is much to what thou dost say, Brekk. Mayhap I have made a mistake after all. Yet there is a ship to the fore that needs our help to gain the ocean beyond.”
Brekk grunted and gave a single sharp nod, for at last did he see Aravan’s true aim, and on plied the Eroean westerly as crimson-sailed Rovers fled southward.
Swiftly, the Elvenship overtook the three-masted barque as twilight overtook the world. As the Eroean eased up sails and hove alongside that ship, Aravan called out to the captain opposite, “We’ll run ahead and clear the channel.”
“Captain Aravan, is it, of the Eroean ?” called the merchant commander in reply.
Noddy snorted and muttered, “J’st who bloody else moight we be?”
“Aye, I be Aravan.”
“Well I thank ye, Captain Aravan. I be Captain Allson of the Gray Petrel out of Gelen. Though an escort we would take gratefully, we were headed east for Arbalin when we spotted the brigands.”
“Then come about, Captain Allson. The northern channel was clear when we sailed through. And I suspect you won’t be bothered by those particular Rovers again. As for us, we’re sailing west, and won’t be back for many a day.”
“Very well, Captain Aravan,” called Allson. “The channel west was also clear when we came through. And, Captain, if you are ever in Lindor, I’ll stand you and all of your crew to a fine meal and a drink.”
“We’ll take you up on that, Captain,” replied Aravan; then he signaled James, and the bosun piped the orders to tighten up sails again, and the Eroean drew away from the Petrel , as that ship came about to head east once more.
And, as the nighttide drew down over the world and stars began to appear one by one in the darkening skies above, west sailed the Elvenship, while aft sailed the barque toward the glimmering light of two burning ships that would never ply the seas again.
21
Voyages
ELVENSHIP
LATE AUTUMN, 6E1,
THROUGH MID SPRING, 6E7
No foe did they see as they sailed the remainder of the way through the Kistanian Straits and into the Weston Ocean. And even as they emerged, Aravan, standing at the starboard rail with Aylis, said, “Here is where I first saw thee, Chieran, as thou didst clamber over the rail, and I fell in love in that instant.”
Aylis smiled, again recalling that fateful day in her first year at the College of Mages in Kairn, the City of Bells, that she had cast a spell upon a silver mirror, and that was when she had first seen who her truelove would be. Yet those days were long past, and the City of Kairn no more, for it had gone into the sea when the Island of Rwn vanished below the waves.
She looked into Aravan’s sapphire blue gaze and said, “And I loved you long before we ever met.”
“Cap’n.” Long Tom’s voice broke into their reminiscences.
“Aye?”
“What be our course?”
“West-southwest, Tom. We’ll ride the trades and the coastal current as far as we can, and hope they carry us across the doldrums of the midline.”
“Aye, Cap’n, west-sou’west she be.”
As Long Tom turned away, Aylis asked, “Are we taking the same route that we took once before, back when we headed for the Crystal Cavern?”
“Nearly the same,” said Aravan. “After we cross the doldrums, we’ll run a long tack southwest to the line of the goat, where, Rualla willing, we’ll not find irons there. Then swing southeast and run for the Cape of Storms, down through the roaring forties and the polar westerlies. Once past the cape, we’ll head northeasterly on nigh a straight run for the Ten Thousand Isles of Mordain.”
“Rualla willing, of course,” said Aylis.
Aravan laughed. “Indeed, for the Mistress of the Winds, fickle though she is, has command o’er the Eroean , e’en above me.”
When they came upon the waters of the midline, the winds were light and shifty, and the crew was hard-pressed to make the best of the erratic air.
“Did I not say Rualla was fickle?” asked Aravan.
“Capricious, I would say,” answered Aylis. “Playful.”
“Y’r laidy, Cap’n, she’s roight t’call ’er that,” said Long Tom, looking about as if expecting that at any moment Rualla would manifest Herself upon the decks of the Elvenship. “Oi mean, laidies don’ loik t’be called ‘fickle,’ naow, do they? Oi mean, capricious is more loike a nicer word, it is, a more nicer word at that. Oi think Rualla would loike that word ever so much better, Oi do, Oi think, Oi do.”
Aravan laughed and nodded. “Indeed, Long Tom. Capricious and playful it is.”
And on they sailed in the whimsical wind, erratic and difficult to sail as it was.
But then once past the Midline Doldrums, they ran swift and true to the Calms of the Goat, and there the ship found itself in irons. They broke out the gigs, and for three full days both Dwarves and men rowed southerly, and the hot sun beat down upon them, sweat runnelling from brow and pits and crotch. But on early morn of the fourth day, a slight puff of air bellied the sails and, ere the noontide, again the Eroean ran full in a brisk wind.
Steadily the winds increased the farther south she fared, and though it was verging upon the warm season south, the shortening nights grew cold and colder, and chill grew the lengthening days as well. The speed of the ship increased, and she ran sixteen and seventeen knots at times, logging more than three hundred fifty miles a day on two days running. And the weather became foul, rain and sleet off and on lashing against the ship, while large breaking waves raced o’er the southern lats of the Weston Ocean, the Eroean cleaving through the waters, her decks awash in the cold brine.
In the swaying light of the salon’s lanterns, Aravan looked across the table at Long Tom and at Nikolai, third in command. Spread out before them were Aravan’s precious charts, marking winds and currents throughout the oceans of the world. Back in the shadows stood Noddy. A knock sounded on the aft quarters door, and Noddy sprang down the short passageway to open it, and in through wind and spray came Fat Jim and Brekk, followed closely by James, bosun of the Eroean , all three wearing their weather gear, boots and slickers and cowls.
Noddy took the dripping slickers and hung them on wall pegs in a corner. And everyone, including the cabin boy, gathered round the chart table.
Aravan’s finger stabbed down onto the map. “In a day or three we will reach the waters of the cape, and I would have ye all remind the crew what it is we face.”
“Storms,” breathed Noddy. “Storms fierce and wild and cruel.”
Aravan smiled at the lad. “Aye, Noddy, storms indeed. Autumn storms at that, though not as cruel as those in the cold season south.”
Brekk growled. “Stupid southern seasons. Just backwards! Here, winter in the north is the warm season south, and summer north is opposite as well.”
Long Tom laughed. “Hoy, Brekk, back’ard or no, th’ polar realm be always frigid, though th’ sun may roide the sky throughout a day as nice and peaceful as y’ pleas
e.”
Nikolai nodded, adding, “A bad place, this cape, by damn. Hard on crew no matter season. Snow, ice, freeze rain fall, weigh down both sail and rope. In autumn, there be snow or sleet or freeze rain or anyt’ing, and same be true of spring. Even in heart of warm part of year it be not very different; ha! much time sleet hammer on ship. But in autumn season, like now, storm always seem bear freeze rain and ice, and wave run tall-greybeard all- Diabolos! hundred feet from crest to trough.”
“E’en so, Nikolai,” said Fat Jim, “it ain’t like the winter season, when things be double-worse.”
Aylis, standing off to one side, nodded, for she had sailed these waters millennia agone when seeking Jinnarin’s mate, Farrix.
Aravan gazed down at the chart. “It is ever so in these polar realms that raging Father Winter seldom looses his grasp, no matter the southern season.”
Noddy, too, stared at the map. “And the winds, Cap’n, wot about the winds? Will they be the same as wot we came through afore, back when you ’n’ Bair ’n’ the rest o’ us went to the Grait Swirl?”
“Aye, ’tis the very same air-westerlies, and constantly running at gale force, or nearly so. Seldom do those winds rest, and the Eroean will be faring with the blow.” Aravan looked up at the faces about him. “And I would have ye all remind the crew just what it is that we likely face: thundering wind, ice, freezing rain, long days and short nights fighting our way through. Each of us will have to take utmost care to not be washed over the rails, for like as not, should anyone go into the water he will be lost. Remind them again that tether ropes are to be hooked at all times aloft. . and, Tom, Nikolai, rig the extra deck lifelines, for surely they will be needed. As for Lissa and Vex, they’ll have to remain belowdecks, else she and the fox will be blown into the sea.”
“I’ll warn her,” said Aylis, “and make it my job to see she remains down here with me.”
As Aravan nodded, “The sails, Captain,” said James, his dark eyes glittering in the lantern light, “is there something special you would have me render?”
“The studs are already down,” replied Aravan. “Likely we will furl the starscrapers and moonrakers as soon as we round the shoulder of the cape. . the gallants and royals as well. I deem that we’ll make our run on stays, jibs, tops, and mains, though likely we’ll reef them down somewhat. Long ago I ran with all sails full up-not here but in the Silver Straits-and I lost two of the masts in one fell swoop. I’ll not risk that again.”
“What about the spanker, Cap’n?” asked Noddy.
Aravan smiled at the cabin boy, who even now was showing promise of becoming a bosun. “Aye, Noddy,” answered the Elf, reaching out and tousling the lad’s unruly hair, “we’ll reef the spanker, too.”
“Kapitan,” said Nikolai, “I t’ink you might talk to crew again about running cape. They no doubt like word straight from you.”
A murmur of agreement rumbled ’round the table.
“Aye, Nikolai, I had intended to. Assemble the men, and thou, Brekk, gather the Drimma as well. Shall we say at the change of the noon watch on the morrow?”
Sleet pelted down upon the ship, while in the forward quarters below, Aravan stood on a sea chest and spoke to the Eroean ’s crew, the weather too harsh to hold an assembly above. And as the hull clove through the rolling waves and brine billowed over the decks, all the Men and Dwarves gathered ’round their Elven captain, all but three remaining in the sheltered wheelhouse-Fat Jim and Wooly, along with Tarley.
Aravan spoke of the cape and reminded them all of the weather at this time of year, for although each had been through this passage before, it was a year and a half past and in a different season. This time, as then, they would make transit from west to east, running with the wind, running with the gale. Aravan spoke of the ice that would form on the ropes, and of the driven snow that would blind them and weigh down the sails, if it should come. “Yet,” he said near the last, “we have made this run ere now. The Eroean is a sturdy ship, and ye are a fine crew. I fear not that we will see the Sindhu Sea in but a week or so. Still, I would caution ye to take care, for if any be lost to the waters, we will not be able to wear around the wind in time to save ye in those chill waves, and to do so would put the entire ship at hazard. So, buckle up tightly when up top, for I would see ye all when we’ve passed beyond the cape.
“Be there any questions?”
“What about the Grey Lady ghost ship?” asked Billy, the cook’s helper. “I mean, Captain, I hear she runs in weather like this.”
An uneasy stir rippled through the crew, for well they knew the legend of the tatter-sail ship, ever cursed to ply these waters, ever searching for the owner’s lost son who had washed overboard in a wild storm in these waters.
Aravan sought out Billy’s gaze and said, “I think the legend be false. Yet if true, and if the Grey Lady appears, then look the other way.”
Now it was a stir of agreement that rippled through the crew, for everyone knew that if you didn’t look long at the ship, she would not claim your soul. On the other hand, if one got washed overboard and lost in these waters, the Grey Lady would stop and take the unfortunate one aboard to sail forever this frigid sea, especially in furious blows.
“Be there any more questions?” asked Aravan.
None had any, for they had made this crossing before, and so Captain Aravan called for a round of rum, his words met by a cheer.
They finally entered the South Polar Sea, and around the cape they fared, and the freezing rain and sleet beat upon the masts and sails and rigging, and made the decks treacherous. Men spent as little time as possible above, and Fat Jim and Wooly and Tarley helmed the Eroean from the small, sheltered wheelhouse, rather than the aft deck.
And the westerlies hurled the ship onward, her sails reefed half or goosewinged, and those nought but the stays, jibs, tops, and mains, the rest furled and stowed or reefed full.
And the waves she rode across-or those that rode across her-were sixty, seventy, eighty feet high from trough to crest, or conversely eighty feet deep from crest to trough, depending on where the Eroean rode, as southeast and then east she ran.
But at last the cape was rounded, and Aravan turned the Elvenship to east-northeast. Even so, sleet and freezing rain yet hammered upon the ship, but the farther north they fared the less ill the weather became.
From the polar westerlies and into the roaring forties the Eroean sailed, and there came a day when she broke out into sunlight, and all the crew celebrated and stood adeck admiring the warm light and clear blue sky.
Another two weeks found them wending among mountainous green islands, for they had come into the tea-growing slopes of the Ten Thousand Isles of Mordain.
They spent nearly a month altogether obtaining what they had come for, and the crew reveled in shore leave, yet toiled when the precious and well-sealed cargo was laded.
And then they made the long journey home, this time rounding the cape in the teeth of the wind.
They brought back a ship laden with white tea from the slopes of a dormant fire-mountain on one of the Isles of Mordain, and no Rovers did they see when once again they fared through the Northern Strait of Kistan.
Their next voyage took them to Ryodo, where they delivered fine Valonian horses to the royal court of the Emperor of that insular land.
Throughout the following five years, they sailed west through the perilous waters of the Silver Straits in the South Polar Ocean to reach the Great Island in the Shining Sea. There they took on a single chest as cargo, a small cask filled with fire opals, a fortune in and of itself.
They sailed north through the Shining Sea to the small island where Lady Katlaw lived in her tower, and they exchanged one of the opals for a deck of special cards for Aylis to use in her ‹seeing›.
In Bharaq, they traded charts to Dharwah, a map merchant in the port of Adras, where they took on a cargo of teakwood, to fare to the carvers and furniture makers in Lindor. While in Lindor they sought Captain Allson t
o redeem his promise of a meal and a drink, yet the Gray Petrel had been lost at sea and none knew the fate of the men.
They made several forays inland at various isolated shores, where rumor said something lost or precious lay within. Here Lissa and Vex scouted as Brekk and the warband and Aravan and Aylis followed. Yet all they found were ancient ruins, usually nought but tumbled-down stones with nothing dear for their effort. Yet these expeditions along remote coasts were the principal reasons why the Eroean sailed the seas.
As Aravan said to Aylis and Lissa one night in the salon, “It matters not whether the legends are true, for the seeking is the sum of the game. Had we wanted nothing but wealth, then merchants of the seas we would ever be, for with but a few trips of the Eroean we can each make a fortune many times over.
“Nay, comfort and riches suit none aboard, not I, not ye, not this well-chosen crew. For we sail only to fund our quests, setting a little aside for the times after, when many of the crew will leave the sea and settle down to a more staid existence. But that is for later and not for now, and not for the times immediately ahead, for legend and fable yet call to this crew, sweet voices singing in our hearts, in our spirits, and drawing us on. And so we hie across the sea, the holds laden to the hatches, until we can go somewhere we are called, and mayhap we will find whatever it is that drew us there. If not, so be it, for other ventures lie beyond the horizon, their siren songs luring us on.”
Lissa looked up from her jot of brandy and raised the tiny cup into the air. “I’ll drink to that, Captain. Lead on. Lead on.” She stood and then abruptly fell on her rump. She looked into her cup and muttered, “Perhaps I’ve had enough.”
22
Onset
DARK DESIGNS
MID SPRING, 6E7
Nunde again locked himself in his quarters and once more quaffed the bitter brew. And after but moments he fell back as if dead. Yet his aethyrial self flew free, and for the fifth time in as many years, he arrowed east. He soared over land, and to his astral sight all shades and colors were reversed: dark was light; light, dark; crimson shone viridian; sapphire shone ocherous; amethyst, amber; ebon, alabaster; and the reverse. The night skies were bright and speckled with dark stars; the moon, black, reminiscent of Neddra. Faster than any eagle he soared, swifter than even a shooting star. And when he reached his destination, dawn at that place broached the horizon, the skies darkening, the leading arm of the black sun even then beginning to lip the rim of the world. Quickly, he flew to where a man slept, and there upon a workbench, Nunde’s aethyrial self saw that the labor had at last been completed.
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