Greenfield
Adventurer
This is part of the Curse of Darkness series, though much later than the last posted tale.
The group has set sail from Egypt to carry the body of a fallen comrade home to Finland, far to the north.
We pick the story up at sea, two days out.
***
Sylus noticed it first. Maybe it was the Druid’s nature to sense what the weather had in store, or perhaps it was the pattern of creaks and groans the ship gave as the wind shifted subtly, but he looked around and took in a deep breath. The salt air was cool, with a slightly sour touch to it that spoke of rain. Quickly he transformed into a large sea bird and took to the sky, his gaze seeking the western horizon.
There he saw it, running from north to south, a line of tall clouds rising like huge gray anvils, lit by occasional flashes of lightning within. Returning to the deck, he alerted Ceburn at once. “Storm coming.”, was all he said, pointing to the west. It was enough.
The hardy Scott took hold of a ratline and stepped up onto the rail for a better view. All clouds were dark since the world had gone gray five, no six years past, but these were serious, and from the look of them they were an entire storm front moving in, a squall line far too broad to navigate around.
He turned to the shipmaster and asked, “How well can we weather a storm like that?” The sudden arch of the man’s eyebrow spoke volumes.
“We’d better make for a port, Prince Ceburn.”, shipmaster Artolis replied. “She’s just been refitted in Cairo, and I’d hate to have to do all of that again.”
“Cypress will be the nearest port.”, Ceburn replied, voicing his thoughts as they came to him. “Bring her about to four points east of true north, and make best speed. If you please, captain.”, he added at the end, recalling that while he might be a Prince, at sea the ship’s captain outranked him. All orders had to be phrased as requests.
The ship’s timbers groaned anew as they brought her about to the new course, and they picked up a bit of speed as the sails were trimmed, but to Sylus eye it didn’t look like enough. Cypress was someplace over the horizon, and the storm would be upon them before they were likely to sight the island.
“Captain”, he called, “I can speed our passage, but you had best bring the crew down from the masts. This may be a bit rough.”
“If you can bring the wind more to our back, all the better.”, the Captain replied. “But the sails will need to be trimmed, and that means hands aloft.” Even as he spoke though, he signaled the first mate to call the men down.
“It’s not the wind I’m calling.”, responded the Druid as he watched the last of the crew scramble to lay foot on timber. They had learned to heed the Druid’s warnings, for when the need was great all of nature answered his call.
Sylus stepped to the stern of the vessel and called up the sea to his aid. The waves shifted in their path, aligning and uniting behind the ship, and raising it up in a single effort. The ship rode high to the top of the huge swell, then began to slide down the leeward side. And then it was a wild, bounding ride as the vessel fled the wave, and the sea rose in pursuit. Wind and spray lashed at their faces as they went, and craft always seemed at the very brink of nosing under the deep, turbulent waters.
“This is insane!”, cried Artolis as he braced the ship’s wheel. “This is the kind of thing that nearly tore us apart off the Pillars of Hercules.”
“She’ll hold together.”, assured Sylus as he tempered the power of the wave slightly. “And it’s better this than the ones that storm will bring. “
The crew gripped the rails and held on as the ocean fled past scant feet away. If one lost their grip and was hurled into the sea they would be lost in seconds. There was no way the small ship could come about to retrieve them, even if they survived the monster wave that dogged their heels.
And the mad ride continued on and on, far longer than the captain or crew would have believed possible. Adventurers knew magics that could do spectacular things, but they seldom continued for hours on end. But each minute it continued carried them that much closer to a safe harbor, and left the storm that much farther behind.
But even the wiry Druid’s endurance had its limits, and with a gasp he finally had to release his grip on the sea, allowing the huge wave to release them, sweep past and dissipate. Sylus was pale and shaken, but he had bought them several hours of time, time they desperately needed.
***
“Land ho!”, came the call from aloft. Ahead a dark shape rose from the sea, a low, hilly isle dotted with a scattering of farms, and signal fires by the southern tip.
“That isn’t Cypress.”, Artolis cautioned. “Are you sure you read the charts aright?”
“I didn’t read the charts at all.”, Ceburn admitted ruefully. “I figured we could correct course once we were under way. Then the wave came and…”
“In the future, you should leave the navigation to me.”, grumbled the captain. But his gruff mood didn’t run deep. They had a port in sight and, as the old saying went, “Any port in a storm.”
The storm was close. They could feel the first raindrops strike with stinging speed as they came around the point and entered the harbor.
They had to reef the sails somewhat, despite the pending storm, for the port waters were well populated. Theirs hadn’t been the only ship to shelter here, and in the fading light they made out an oddly mixed flotilla.
“I count a score of fishing boats”, the Boatswain called, marking his tally as he went. “There are two hands of coastal traders like our own ship, a pair of Corsairs near the far shore, and a galley-rowed warship at the quay, and I'm still counting.”
“Well, they’ll be asking a steep port fee, that’s for certain.”, grumbled Ceburn. “Take us well in and cling to the western shoreline, but plumb the depth as we go. We don’t want to be bogged at the low tide.” Seeing the look in the captain’s eye he quickly added, “If you please, Captain.”
They navigated, slow and careful, to a spot near the sheltering hills, then set the anchor. The ship’s boat was lowered, and the captain gave the call, “All ashore who are going ashore!”.
Ceburn decided to stay with the ship, while Sylus and his tiger, their new guide Onyx, Imagena and the healer Twilla, the warrior woman Ursula and the Persian warrior Granwar decided to weather the storm ashore. The Captain released half a dozen of the crew for shore leave, with the warning to be back at the docks at sunset tomorrow to spell their shipmates.
The party puzzled at Onyx, the cat-warrior they’d met in western Africa. He’d been hired as a guide, but had stayed with them even after they’d left his homeland. He was a paradox. Sometimes he seemed sullen and withdrawn, sometimes open and outgoing. He had played in the bounding waves when they had first crossed the Mediterranean, then shivered in terror and complained how much he hated being wet. This time he seemed to be in his private mood again, wrapped in his black robes and crouching near the stern of the longboat. He was an odd one, even for this group.
They were met at the quay by a man with a tablet and two port guards. "You fly black sails. Do you carry the plague?"
"No, all aboard are healthy and well.", the Captain declared. "We're just come ashore to pay our fair dues, and release some for leave."
The man looked relieves. "How many ashore?" he asked, visibly counting heads. "My count is twelve."
“What are the port fees?”, asked Captain Artolus, cutting straight to the point.
“If you aren’t landing cargo or securing to the quay, there are none. Not in a storm. If you’re still here in three days, normal fees will apply.”
The Captain was taken aback by the reasonable terms. He’d expected to be gouged. Then he stopped. “Twelve?”, he asked, backtracking the conversation slightly. “We had thirteen.”
Quickly they counted heads and realized that someone was missing. Onyx was nowhere to be seen.
“Can the cat-man even swim”, the Boatswain asked in concern.
His question was answered a moment later as they heard splashing and choking from the water. A line was thrown and seized, and a thoroughly miserable cat was hauled from the water, his sodden robes clinging to his shivering body.
“He didn’t fall in.” Sylus said quietly. “He slipped overboard on his own.”
"Onyx, why? Are you wanted for something here?”, asked the Captain. Then, again, he backtracked the conversation and turned to the harbor agent. “Where is ‘here’, if I may ask. We took shelter at the first port we saw.”
“Ah, this is the port of Larisos, on the isle of Lesbos. You are in the harbor Kolpos Geras.”
There was a sudden silence among the crew. This island was a place that straddled the line between legend and myth, for many a time ships had gone seeking it and had sailed right through to the coast of Frygia. Other times ships bound for Frygian ports had had to navigate about the island that wasn’t marked on the charts.
Backtracking again, the captain returned to his exchange with the port master. “We may rotate who is ashore, but we’ll never have more than fifteen at a time. Is this an issue?”
“No problem, we just like to know how many of the guard to have on call. Sailors on leave and all that. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, we’re not all sailors.”, Granwar inserted. Some of us are …”
“Passengers.”, the Captain finished, not wishing to alarm the port clerk.
“Passengers.”, the man muttered thoughtfully as he looked over the disparate group. Many races, clothing from many lands, and many men with arms and armor. “You’re adventurers.”, he said firmly. “What is your business here?”, he added, his entire bearing changing in those few words.
“We are in mourning, taking a fallen friend home to be laid to rest with his people.”, Imagena explained. “We seek not trouble and we bring none.”
The man paused a long moment as he eyed her Egyptian white linens, and the holy symbol she wore prominently over her heart. The word of a priestess was good enough for him. He nodded sharply and moved towards the next long boat approaching the quay. One guard pointedly stayed nearby, to keep an eye on the party.
***
Sylus saw his friends safely to an Inn, then headed for the edge of town. Though the night was dark and starless and the storm harsh and cold, the need to hunt was upon him. Whether this came from his tiger, Smaug, or from his own heart hardly mattered. And if it be a stormy night in unfamiliar hills, what of it? He relished the challenge.
***
The group has set sail from Egypt to carry the body of a fallen comrade home to Finland, far to the north.
We pick the story up at sea, two days out.
***
Sylus noticed it first. Maybe it was the Druid’s nature to sense what the weather had in store, or perhaps it was the pattern of creaks and groans the ship gave as the wind shifted subtly, but he looked around and took in a deep breath. The salt air was cool, with a slightly sour touch to it that spoke of rain. Quickly he transformed into a large sea bird and took to the sky, his gaze seeking the western horizon.
There he saw it, running from north to south, a line of tall clouds rising like huge gray anvils, lit by occasional flashes of lightning within. Returning to the deck, he alerted Ceburn at once. “Storm coming.”, was all he said, pointing to the west. It was enough.
The hardy Scott took hold of a ratline and stepped up onto the rail for a better view. All clouds were dark since the world had gone gray five, no six years past, but these were serious, and from the look of them they were an entire storm front moving in, a squall line far too broad to navigate around.
He turned to the shipmaster and asked, “How well can we weather a storm like that?” The sudden arch of the man’s eyebrow spoke volumes.
“We’d better make for a port, Prince Ceburn.”, shipmaster Artolis replied. “She’s just been refitted in Cairo, and I’d hate to have to do all of that again.”
“Cypress will be the nearest port.”, Ceburn replied, voicing his thoughts as they came to him. “Bring her about to four points east of true north, and make best speed. If you please, captain.”, he added at the end, recalling that while he might be a Prince, at sea the ship’s captain outranked him. All orders had to be phrased as requests.
The ship’s timbers groaned anew as they brought her about to the new course, and they picked up a bit of speed as the sails were trimmed, but to Sylus eye it didn’t look like enough. Cypress was someplace over the horizon, and the storm would be upon them before they were likely to sight the island.
“Captain”, he called, “I can speed our passage, but you had best bring the crew down from the masts. This may be a bit rough.”
“If you can bring the wind more to our back, all the better.”, the Captain replied. “But the sails will need to be trimmed, and that means hands aloft.” Even as he spoke though, he signaled the first mate to call the men down.
“It’s not the wind I’m calling.”, responded the Druid as he watched the last of the crew scramble to lay foot on timber. They had learned to heed the Druid’s warnings, for when the need was great all of nature answered his call.
Sylus stepped to the stern of the vessel and called up the sea to his aid. The waves shifted in their path, aligning and uniting behind the ship, and raising it up in a single effort. The ship rode high to the top of the huge swell, then began to slide down the leeward side. And then it was a wild, bounding ride as the vessel fled the wave, and the sea rose in pursuit. Wind and spray lashed at their faces as they went, and craft always seemed at the very brink of nosing under the deep, turbulent waters.
“This is insane!”, cried Artolis as he braced the ship’s wheel. “This is the kind of thing that nearly tore us apart off the Pillars of Hercules.”
“She’ll hold together.”, assured Sylus as he tempered the power of the wave slightly. “And it’s better this than the ones that storm will bring. “
The crew gripped the rails and held on as the ocean fled past scant feet away. If one lost their grip and was hurled into the sea they would be lost in seconds. There was no way the small ship could come about to retrieve them, even if they survived the monster wave that dogged their heels.
And the mad ride continued on and on, far longer than the captain or crew would have believed possible. Adventurers knew magics that could do spectacular things, but they seldom continued for hours on end. But each minute it continued carried them that much closer to a safe harbor, and left the storm that much farther behind.
But even the wiry Druid’s endurance had its limits, and with a gasp he finally had to release his grip on the sea, allowing the huge wave to release them, sweep past and dissipate. Sylus was pale and shaken, but he had bought them several hours of time, time they desperately needed.
***
“Land ho!”, came the call from aloft. Ahead a dark shape rose from the sea, a low, hilly isle dotted with a scattering of farms, and signal fires by the southern tip.
“That isn’t Cypress.”, Artolis cautioned. “Are you sure you read the charts aright?”
“I didn’t read the charts at all.”, Ceburn admitted ruefully. “I figured we could correct course once we were under way. Then the wave came and…”
“In the future, you should leave the navigation to me.”, grumbled the captain. But his gruff mood didn’t run deep. They had a port in sight and, as the old saying went, “Any port in a storm.”
The storm was close. They could feel the first raindrops strike with stinging speed as they came around the point and entered the harbor.
They had to reef the sails somewhat, despite the pending storm, for the port waters were well populated. Theirs hadn’t been the only ship to shelter here, and in the fading light they made out an oddly mixed flotilla.
“I count a score of fishing boats”, the Boatswain called, marking his tally as he went. “There are two hands of coastal traders like our own ship, a pair of Corsairs near the far shore, and a galley-rowed warship at the quay, and I'm still counting.”
“Well, they’ll be asking a steep port fee, that’s for certain.”, grumbled Ceburn. “Take us well in and cling to the western shoreline, but plumb the depth as we go. We don’t want to be bogged at the low tide.” Seeing the look in the captain’s eye he quickly added, “If you please, Captain.”
They navigated, slow and careful, to a spot near the sheltering hills, then set the anchor. The ship’s boat was lowered, and the captain gave the call, “All ashore who are going ashore!”.
Ceburn decided to stay with the ship, while Sylus and his tiger, their new guide Onyx, Imagena and the healer Twilla, the warrior woman Ursula and the Persian warrior Granwar decided to weather the storm ashore. The Captain released half a dozen of the crew for shore leave, with the warning to be back at the docks at sunset tomorrow to spell their shipmates.
The party puzzled at Onyx, the cat-warrior they’d met in western Africa. He’d been hired as a guide, but had stayed with them even after they’d left his homeland. He was a paradox. Sometimes he seemed sullen and withdrawn, sometimes open and outgoing. He had played in the bounding waves when they had first crossed the Mediterranean, then shivered in terror and complained how much he hated being wet. This time he seemed to be in his private mood again, wrapped in his black robes and crouching near the stern of the longboat. He was an odd one, even for this group.
They were met at the quay by a man with a tablet and two port guards. "You fly black sails. Do you carry the plague?"
"No, all aboard are healthy and well.", the Captain declared. "We're just come ashore to pay our fair dues, and release some for leave."
The man looked relieves. "How many ashore?" he asked, visibly counting heads. "My count is twelve."
“What are the port fees?”, asked Captain Artolus, cutting straight to the point.
“If you aren’t landing cargo or securing to the quay, there are none. Not in a storm. If you’re still here in three days, normal fees will apply.”
The Captain was taken aback by the reasonable terms. He’d expected to be gouged. Then he stopped. “Twelve?”, he asked, backtracking the conversation slightly. “We had thirteen.”
Quickly they counted heads and realized that someone was missing. Onyx was nowhere to be seen.
“Can the cat-man even swim”, the Boatswain asked in concern.
His question was answered a moment later as they heard splashing and choking from the water. A line was thrown and seized, and a thoroughly miserable cat was hauled from the water, his sodden robes clinging to his shivering body.
“He didn’t fall in.” Sylus said quietly. “He slipped overboard on his own.”
"Onyx, why? Are you wanted for something here?”, asked the Captain. Then, again, he backtracked the conversation and turned to the harbor agent. “Where is ‘here’, if I may ask. We took shelter at the first port we saw.”
“Ah, this is the port of Larisos, on the isle of Lesbos. You are in the harbor Kolpos Geras.”
There was a sudden silence among the crew. This island was a place that straddled the line between legend and myth, for many a time ships had gone seeking it and had sailed right through to the coast of Frygia. Other times ships bound for Frygian ports had had to navigate about the island that wasn’t marked on the charts.
Backtracking again, the captain returned to his exchange with the port master. “We may rotate who is ashore, but we’ll never have more than fifteen at a time. Is this an issue?”
“No problem, we just like to know how many of the guard to have on call. Sailors on leave and all that. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, we’re not all sailors.”, Granwar inserted. Some of us are …”
“Passengers.”, the Captain finished, not wishing to alarm the port clerk.
“Passengers.”, the man muttered thoughtfully as he looked over the disparate group. Many races, clothing from many lands, and many men with arms and armor. “You’re adventurers.”, he said firmly. “What is your business here?”, he added, his entire bearing changing in those few words.
“We are in mourning, taking a fallen friend home to be laid to rest with his people.”, Imagena explained. “We seek not trouble and we bring none.”
The man paused a long moment as he eyed her Egyptian white linens, and the holy symbol she wore prominently over her heart. The word of a priestess was good enough for him. He nodded sharply and moved towards the next long boat approaching the quay. One guard pointedly stayed nearby, to keep an eye on the party.
***
Sylus saw his friends safely to an Inn, then headed for the edge of town. Though the night was dark and starless and the storm harsh and cold, the need to hunt was upon him. Whether this came from his tiger, Smaug, or from his own heart hardly mattered. And if it be a stormy night in unfamiliar hills, what of it? He relished the challenge.
***
Last edited: