Fifth Session: All Roads First Post: A 3-Hour Tour
We trudge back to the shore of the island, noticing as we do that the spirits and walls are gone, although a faint, shadowy mist still clings to the trees and grass. Upon arriving at the shore, we find no boatman waiting for us, and finally resort to lighting a large signal fire, which, many hours later, finally produces a boat with an elderly fisherman, some distance offshore. He reluctantly lets us wade out to the boat, first making us swear not to harm him by all the deities he can imagine. When Marcus chastises him for not sticking to the original agreement, the fisherman responds with sharp-tongued amazement:
“Well, what did ye expect me to do? I did come back three days later, and then again a week after that. But after the first two weeks we’d all given you up for dead, well, the ones who hadn’t started praying for your souls the moment you stepped onto the shore. It’s been six months, man – what were ye doing on that island?”
Once we reach the shore and establish that this fisherman is neither senile nor crazy, we are forced to accept that Heilyn’s theory that time might pass differently in an area where the spirit and mundane world intersected so closely was true. We left for Mona in early September; it is now halfway through the month of Mars. When we reach a larger town, Wena and Cornelia find out through local gossip that Governor Cimbrus, Hadriana, and their new baby daughter, Cimbra, departed in the fall for Rome.
The three British legions, vastly understrength after the difficult battle of Hadrian’s Wall, were folded into two legions, and the Eagle of the 12th has been returned to Rome, along with a large number of troops traveling to celebrate Cimbrus’s triumph in Rome for his Britannic victories. Metellus, Llyr, and Marcus were all invited to participate in the triumph, and Cornelia as an honored guest, but their invitations have languished in empty barracks and homes. The new governor appears to be pursuing a cautious policy, pulling back all troops to Hadrian’s Wall and making no attempt to capitalize on the hard-won victory.
Successfully freed of their curse, it is time for the group, Romans and Britons alike, to leave Britannia. We have many different reasons for traveling to Rome. Metellus’s Tribunate is over, and it is time for him to pursue his political career back in the capital. Cornelia wishes to visit her only surviving parent, her mother Licinia Luculla, of notorious reputation, and perhaps find a new home. Meloch, of course, goes where Cornelia goes. Heilyn is in search of Lugh’s Cap of Twilight, in hopes that the god can eventually be freed from his island prison, and has enlisted oaths from everyone except Meloch, to greater or lesser degrees, that they will assist him in his quest. Marcus has his own quest, to which the others are fairly sympathetic – to restore the Ninth to full Legion status and glory. And Wena is struck, as always, by wanderlust, and is interested in pursuing the unfinished tales begun with this group of comrades. As for myself, Shast, I’m just glad to be getting out of Britannia and back to a normal climate.
The cost of passage to Gaul turns out to be not only an arm and leg but the life of Kaspar IX, the goat, and the abandonment of Heilyn’s pack of dogs, including the Brave Little Terriers (whom I’m overjoyed to bid farewell to) but not the pesky owl Cato or, even worse, Talat, the Wonder Horse, whom everyone pets and feeds treats to constantly just because she’s the child of a goddess. Humph – you don’t hear me bragging about my illustrious lineage. Kynton, Llyr’s chariot-racing feckless cousin, is also coming along; apparently he’s been offered a place by the White chariot faction in Rome itself, and he’s just thrilled at the thought; Nanna Alma, Cornelia’s old Brigantian nurse, is the last of the group.
After Cornelia shells out the crossing fee for several of us, we begin our short trip across the Channel. There are several other passengers on the crowded vessel, including a Romano-Gallic pearl merchant, Verix, returning dispirited from a failed pearl-trading venture in Britannia. Only half an hour after we have lost sight of the white cliffs of Britannia, several of the clearer-eyed members of the party spot an intense storm formation coming towards them from the north. They estimate it will be over them in approximately half an hour, and the captain puts on as much sail in the meanwhile as is safe.
Just about then, Marcus and Llyr spot what appear to be some odd, greenish-brown bumps in the sea ahead of them. Wena’s pearl notices them as well, and Wena realizes that they are moving. Before they can do more than point this out to the others, the ship comes to a halt, and a large crashing noise is heard on the port side. As everyone dashes to look, the more observant can see what appears to be some sort of giant undulating serpent pressing itself against the ship. Llyr tries to hit it with an arrow and misses as its head arcs over the prow and starts curving around the starboard side of the ship, squeezing as it goes. Wena tries to establish a mindlink, expecting failure, and is surprised when the creature willingly allows her access.
“Please stop! You’re hurting our ship!” she thinks.
“What??? Who are you? I have to punish the tainted ones.”
“My name is Wena. We mean you no harm. Who are the tainted ones?”
At about this point, Heilyn stands on the prow and shouts out, in Celtic, “Serpent! We mean you no harm! Please stop destroying our ship! We have assisted Sulis, god of the sea, and he has befriended us.”
With these two conversations, the squeezing momentarily halts, as an enormous mottled greyish-green head, with piercing blue bulging eyes, rears itself up out of the water, with an oddly quizzical look. In a somewhat childlike if reptilian voice, it repeats in Celtic, “I have to punish the Tainted Ones.” Meanwhile, the Roman ladies and most of the merchants on board, with the exception of the relatively unfazed Cornelia, scream and faint. Verix the pearl merchant, on the other hand, stands looking with curiosity at the serpent.
Wena and Heilyn, nearly simultaneously, say, “Who are you? What are the Tainted Ones?” Wena holds up the Waterskin of Sulis as a sign that they really are telling the truth.
“I am the Colubir, child of the Ourobouros and Sulis when female. You...are servants of Sulis?”
In the back, Llyr whispers to Cornelia, while readying his sword, “I thought Sulis was male.”
Cornelia whispers back. “It’s one of those special Celtic god things. Sulis changes gender, like the water she’s a god of, whenever he wishes.”
Heilyn and Wena respond, “Yes!” and Wena says, “This is the waterskin that Sulis gave us for freeing...um...him from the Isle of Mona. We saved your parent! Don’t kill us!”
The Colubir, now looking rather confused, responds slowly, “But...the Spiritwalker came and summoned me with the Staff, and said that I had to come here and punish the Tainted Ones, that I would know them by the lingering aura of corruption and decay. And I can see that aura around you and your friends, though it is light and fading.”
“We aren’t tainted anymore!” Metellus responds in highly accented Celtic.
“Staff?” Heilyn asks, with a hint of greed in his voice.
“The Spiritwalker had a powerful staff which compelled me to obey. I have to punish you...”
“Look,” Verix the pearl merchant says. “What exactly do you mean by “punish?” I mean, you’ve already seriously damaged our ship and steering capabilities. And it sounds like these people have already been through a lot, not to mention us innocent bystanders. Couldn’t we agree that you’ve already “punished” us and just all go about our business?”
“You feel punished?” the Colubir asks, somewhat hopefully.
“Oh yes, definitely. Very punished. In great pain and suffering,” everyone agrees enthusiastically, glancing nervously at the storm, which is getting ever closer and closer.
“I need to consider this. You mortals are confusing. I do not know what is right. I will go back where I came and swim upstream to a quiet lake and contemplate the correct action until I know whether I have punished you enough. It will be dark, and peaceful there, and there will be few mortals to disturb me,” the Colubir hisses plaintively.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Colubir,” Llyr remarks. “But, as the child of Sulis, could you possibly aid the rescuers of Sulis by giving us a large push towards the shore of Gallia? We don’t have any way to steer now, and that storm will destroy us if we can’t escape its path.”
Various others of the group add their enthusiastic support to the plan, and the Colubir is reluctantly persuaded. She rewraps her length around the ship and, gaining an incredible speed with the swishes of her tail, begins piloting the ship towards the eastern coast. Marcus is very disturbed to see the prow rising virtually out of the water, but everyone else points out that the storm is falling behind them, and that this is the only way to ensure safety. With one last shove, the Colubir unwinds and sends the vessel spinning towards the coast. In the last light of day, the last thing we see are the flickers of light along her gray-green scales as she glides through the water back towards Britannia.