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Chronicles of Arborell, Copyright Wayne Densley 2005 All Rights Reserved
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Day Seventy-six
The night has passed slowly with the anticipation of our landfall, and beneath the rising suns of morning the Dromannion is at full sail, making steadily for the entrance to a great harbour that lies ahead. We have come far to reach this point in our journey and what stands before us fills our hearts with hope. The islands of Laerion have been described by the Maturi as verdant islands in a wide sea, but what we have discovered exceeds all expectations.
In the twilight of the previous day the Fleet met the southern-most tip of the Laerion islands and in doing so quickly moved northwards. According to the dwarvendim the main island of this archipelago, known to Caren'thal the Younger as Amen'wraith, lay only a dozen leagues to the north. Upon Amen'wraith, it is said, we will find safe harbour and a bounty of food and fresh water, enough to replenish our stores and spare us from any further rationing on our voyage westwards.
With this great boon ahead we sailed north until shallow waters and the gloom of a moonless night forced us to furl sail and drop anchor. It was at first light that we again returned to our course and by first bell of morning the island of Amen'wraith loomed before us. For the best view of the approaching land I found a position high on the foredeck balustrade. Both Stump and Ahlek Norahm were beside me. Amongst the gathering crowd we were but a few white robed men in a crush of people as we all strained for our first views of landfall.
In truth I can say that I am not sure what I was actually expecting. A large number of people crowded upon the different decks of the Dromannion, watching as we skirted the southern edge of the island, looking for the safe harbour described by the Maturi Hedj. As was foretold the island is substantial, consisting of long sand beaches, wide plains of trees and grasses and a series of mountain summits that rise into the clouds some distance inland. I am unsure as to its actual size but it must extend for at least fifteen leagues from north to south and three from east to west. On the heaving deck of the Dromannion we all stood silent, watching as the island slid by, but it was not the size of island that enthralled us.
Amen'wraith is a paradise, an answer to the hopes of a Fleet that has spent too many weeks at sea. Never have I seen grasses so verdant, or snow-capped mountains so crisp and white in the sunlight. The beaches glow yellow in the light of morning and the forests are a vision of unrestrained vitality. At every turn can be found flocks of birds gliding upon the winds, or herds of great beasts roaming the plains. There is nothing about the island that I can see as having been disturbed by the hands of men. It is as pristine a place as could be found in this world, yet there are even greater wonders to be found here and the greatest of these stands at the entrance to the harbour.
Given the extraordinary state of the island's plant and animal life, it should not have been a surprise that the best of its harbours lay as a quiet tranquil haven. Formed as a wide circle encompassed by two huge headlands, its entrance beckons as a narrow gateway that opens into a cove of quiet water. Straddling both of these headlands lay a huge natural archway of stone that stretches overhead, blocking out the suns as we sailed carefully through its gigantic arch. At the base of each root of the arch stands a huge spire of stone, roughly formed but immense in stature. Each has the appearance of great age, weathered and broken by the forces of time and exposure.
To the western edge of this natural harbour spreads a wide arc of sand-lined beaches and a series of shear cliffs that line the harbour's headlands to the north and south. The beaches are to be our landing points and with the winds gusting from the east it did not take long for the entire Fleet to sail into the huge harbour. By midday every vessel of our number was at anchor and the serious business of our stay commenced.
Much has been planned for, but our time here is limited by the warnings given by the Maturi. With the Fleet arrayed across the sheltered bay the first of many small boats went ashore, and from that point a large encampment has grown quickly upon the sand-beaches. As we have only three days it has been decided that we shall work day and night at the tasks we have given ourselves. Hunters and gathering parties have already begun to delve into the forests to the west and a number of large trees have been selected for cutting. I have been scheduled to go ashore at first light tomorrow with the other Assistants and I am looking forward to the chance of standing upon dry ground once again.
Although others have priority on this first day of our stay here, and the duties of my craft have not lessened as I wait for my time ashore, there has been opportunities enough to look out over the island and consider its unusual nature. Much has been uncovered by the initial parties that have made their way into the island's hinterland. All reports that have made their way back tell of a land bursting with life, full of the provender needed for us to continue our voyage. There seems no aspect of this island that can be construed as ill-meant, and in that very fact I have a growing feeling that everything is somehow too perfect, too accessable for our needs. After the hardships of our voyage it all seems to good to be true.
As I write this I feel uncomfortable for I do not wish to appear ungrateful or mean-spirited. The island is indeed a paradise that seems tailor-made for the provision of everything that we might need to continue our voyage. There is something though in the abundance of its gifts that has me wondering if it might not be too convenient. I cannot help but make mention of the feeling that somewhere beneath the island's rich surface there lies a darker aspect, one that will rise to tax a full measure in payment for what we might take from it. The Maturi Hedj's warning regarding the spirits of this place sits in the back of my mind, and in truth I do not know whether my unease is in consequence of that warning, or whether it has its origins at a far deeper level.
I can say that such concerns are not mine alone. The Healer Faren and others have raised the question as to whether we should be taking anything from this land except that which can be plucked from the trees, or hunted upon the wide plains. Faren has cautioned that to take trees or to damage the island in anyway seems contrary to its pristine status, an affront to the gifts that it can bestow to us if we treat it kindly. Stump and the Maturi have been just as insistent, saying that we have a free rein to take what we need for our voyage, but that we should be tempered by respect for the untouched nature of the land. In their minds we tread in paradise at our peril. I have little doubt that great benefit can be gained from our stay here but we need to be careful. There is something here, I know it.
Day Seventy-seven
The second day of our harbouring in Amen'wraith has been one of great activity and some incredible discoveries. At first light I was awakened by Ahlek, and together with Stump and others of the Assistants we organised ourselves for our day ashore. As with the other parties that have gone before, we have a set number of tasks to perform, and a very tight schedule that must be kept to. For us this day shall be devoted solely to the finding of the herbs, fungi, and other roots and earths needed for our craft. Of all the supplies we require it is these that are the hardest to procure, and so we will spend our day in this pursuit.
By first light our party was ashore. Already the beach was crowded, many of the gatherers camping in behind the dunes, taking advantage of the opportunity to sleep on dry land. By the time we were able to make it to shore there was already great activity as lifeboats and skiffs were being filled with the fruits of the previous day's scavenging. Together with Ahlek I made my way to the head of the beach and there found a well-trodden pathway into a broad stand of forest. We did not have to go far to find everything that we were looking for.
In the shadows of gigantic trees the two of us began the task of searching out what we needed. In the depths of the forest our surroundings were alive with activity. Birds sped through the shadows, their wings bright flashes of colour mixed with long lines of sunlight that pierced the canopy above, and everywhere there were insects, engaged in the endless movement of their short lives. The undergrowth was thick in places but within its growth we found much of what we needed. Fungi and aromatic herbs sprung from bark and root, special earths and humus proved attainable at the grasp of a hand. Carefully we did our work, filling our packs and the additional bags that we had brought with us. By midday we were almost finished, only one task remained.
The day had turned warm and with the light of a clear sky cutting through the branched canopy above we took the time to take lunch and enjoy, for a short while, the feeling of firm earth beneath us. Regardless of the misgivings I have felt about the convenient perfection of this island it was good to sit against a tree-trunk once again and feel the texture of dirt between my fingers. The smells and grit of the forest proved a potent balm for senses that had been too long saturated with the salt of the ocean. I can say that lunch tasted all the better for it.
While we had the time I talked with Ahlek on what we had experienced on the journey so far, and in that conversation came to know him better. Unlike most of the Assistants he is young, but very bright, and the owner of a dry wit that finds humour in the most unlikely of events. It surprised me greatly when he turned our conversation to the subject of the island and its bounty. As we talked he expressed his own opinion that it was a shame that we could not tarry longer here. Such was the vitality of Amen'wraith he proposed, that it would have made the perfect sanctuary for the Fleet, and a possible home for us all. But that was the problem, and it plagued him just as it unsettles me. Everything we need is no further than arms-length away and it had struck him that it was all too easy, too convenient for travellers as ourselves that had seen such hardship. For him it had the smell of bait, an enticement drawing us all into a trap. I could not help but agree.
With the midday meal finished we returned to the last task of the day. To the north of our position there had been found a small pool and cascade. Such a location provided the hope of finding a particular lichen that is in great demand as a curative for infected wounds. Of all our medical needs this was the one item that is most highly prized. According to the party that had found the pool on the previous day, it could be found a half hour's walk further within the forest.
As it happened it did not prove difficult to find the waters. The cascade fell from a plateau high above, and made such a noise that we heard it a long time before it came into view. On the cusp of a small rise the pond lay before us as a wide, shallow pool, bordered on most sides by the treeline of the forest, which emptied noisily into a fast running creek that flowed away to the south-west. Carefully we made our way to the base of the cascade, skirting the edges of the water as we looked for the tell-tale russet colouring of the lichen. At the base of the falling waters we found what we were looking for, and then spent a good hour removing small pieces of the lichen from its purchase between rocks and upon the cliff-face itself. We were well pleased with our efforts and after taking a moment to drink and clean ourselves turned to begin our trek back to the beach.
Only then did Ahlek Norahm see the small figures that were watching us. Putting out his arm he brought me to a halt and then crouched upon the trail, pointing into the trees ahead of us. I immediately saw what he was gesturing at and dropped to one knee as well. Within the shadows of the forest stood dozens of small figures, no taller than my outstretched arm, but definitely human-like in form although very thin and gangled in appearance. For a few moments we waited, watching as the figures stood motionless in the undergrowth before disappearing back into the forest's depths. I can record here that my pulse was pounding in my ears as we watched them. I do not know what they were, nor whether they could have meant us any harm, but I was glad when they retreated back into the shadows.
By the time of this encounter it was already mid-afternoon, and being mindful of our need to return to the beach, we hurried on our way. With the possibility of the creatures at our backs we did not stop to enjoy the beauty of the forest. After our brief encounter we concentrated instead on every shadowed patch of undergrowth or tree-limb that overhung our path. Neither of us could sense if there was danger to be found here, and in the absence of such knowledge we moved all the quicker, our legs propelling us swiftly on our way. I do not know about Ahlek but I held my harvesting knife all the tighter as we ran for the beaches.
It took us little time to return to the shoreline. Sweating from the exertion we lumbered out of the forest to find the beach a hive of activity and industry. Dozens of boats lined the water's edge and for the entire length of the sands there could be seen cargo being loaded and the passengers from many ships enjoying the pleasures of a few hours ashore. At the very end of the beach however, there had begun a much more serious undertaking. Upon heavy trestles and bracings the long, thin structures of three new masts were taking shape. Trees had been selected and felled on the preceding afternoon and now ships-carpenters were busy with the difficult task of cutting and forming the natural bends and knotting of the raw timber. Under other circumstances it was a job that would take considerably longer than the three days we have at our disposal, but only the forming of the masts is to be undertaken on the island, everything else is to be done aboard ship once we have cleared the entrance to the harbour and have found ourselves again in open waters.
Within this hive of activity myself and Ahlek began the search for those Healers that were ashore. We had all been given our specific tasks to perform, and with the conclusion of our own mission it was necessary for us to find the others and await the first lifeboat back to the Dromannion. It proved to be a straightforward endeavour. Upon an area of flat sands in behind the first line of dunes the Healer Faren had raised a small pavilion to cater for any medical needs that might arise whilst we were ashore. There we found Faren himself and a number of Healers from other vessels in the Fleet. Most of those who had been sent out into the forests had not yet returned, so both myself and Ahlek took the opportunity to rest in the shade of the spreading canvass and recount to the Healers what we had encountered in the depths of the forest. To my surprise the creatures were already known to Faren. Hunters had found sign of them in the early morning but they had avoided all attempts at contact. The Maturi calls them Morg, an old name for forest-spirits that are said to inhabit the far eastern regions of the Haarn Kingdoms. By his telling such spirits can be malicious creatures but here they have harmed no-one and instead have kept a discrete distance. All who now venture into the forests have been told to leave them alone.
With our story told we settled back to await the return of the other Assistants. For a time we rested and then began the unavoidable work of preparing and packing our herbs and earths for transport back to the Dromannion. Faren was particularly pleased with the lichen and questioned us at length about where we found it, and if there was any that remained to be collected. It was as we went about our task that I overheard the Healers discussing a turn of events for which I had no previous knowledge.
Whilst we had been out in the depths of the nearby forest a small party of dwarvendim had left the beaches, their mission to ascend the highest of the summits that rested in the island's interior, their goal the snow-capped peak of Troga'hem. The reason for such a mission seemed unknown to all who now spoke of it, but the nature of the party that had left the safety of the beaches was most unusual. Of the men that had departed two were known to me, one being the Maturi Hedj and another, a young man known to his dwarvendim brethren as the Shadar Len. The remaining four members of the group seemed to be carriers, hefting the gear that would be needed for the Maturi and Shadar to make an ascent of the peak. From what I have observed over the past weeks it is these two men that provide the leadership of the dwarvendim. To leave the hurried activity of the beaches does not appear wise, but it is not for me to judge. Even the casual conversations of the Healers have left no doubt that their thoughts are divided on what it might mean. It seems however that the entire enterprise has the full backing of the Fleet Captain. If this is so then there must be meaning to it, and no doubt we will all find out what its purpose is later. It is curious though.
By the hour before nightfall all the parties had returned to the beaches, and loaded with the bounty of Amen'wraith we were ferried quickly back to the Dromannion. Many of the Fleet's number have decided to stay ashore on this last night. The long swathe of the beach is lit brightly with the many fires and lamps of those wishing to make the most of the only piece of firm ground that might be found for many months. Although it would be my wish to spend the night ashore it is something that our duties cannot allow. The supplies need unpacking and proper storage. It is a job that must be done quickly and will take most of the evening to complete. Hopefully there will be time in the early morning to return to the island one last time.
Day Seventy-eight
Our third day at Amen'wraith has begun, and in contrast to the previous days the weather has turned dark and inclement. From the north a wind has arisen and on its bluster low banks of clouds now crowd the sky. Within the shelter of the bay and its headlands we have not felt the strength of the winds yet, but in the gathering gloom I can feel the tide changing, the quiet waters of the harbour beginning to agitate as if an unseen hand is moving beneath us. Many people have started to return to the ships of the Fleet, and as I watch I can see large numbers of lifeboats, skiffs and other small transports heaving in the waves as they try to make it back to their ships. The water has grown dark and in the half-light of the morning the air has become chilled. A sense of foreboding has now taken hold aboard the Dromannion. We are all aware of the limits that have been placed upon our stay here and the turn in the weather now sits as a major hurdle to the completion of our plans.
With the second bell of morning a call arose from the watch above. All who were on deck turned their gaze to the north-west and the mountains that now sat indistinct within a mist of shouldering cloud and rain. Upon the peak of Troga'hem a bright light shone out, before being smothered in the banks of approaching rain. Many who saw it pointed out into the approaching gloom but none could say what it might mean. For the Captain on the wheeldeck it was a signal that forced him to action.
In a flurry of commands the Dromannion came to life. Immediately flags and signal lights rose upon the masts and a series of flares fired from the Avernell brought the beaches quickly to action. Tents came down and in the melee I could see the last of the remaining boats pushing off from the shore. Only the masts still lay upon the sands, and wrapped within the gloom I could make out the vague motions of men rolling the half-finished timbers into the sea, and then the frantic activity of boats as the different masts were slowly towed out to their respective ships.
It was as these events were taking place that the weather closed in. From the distant mountains the approaching mists took little time to reach the shoreline and then overwhelm the Fleet at anchor. With the rain arose a heaving swell, and in the pitch of the vessels Captain Duschet gave the order to begin moving out through the harbour entrance. For the Dromannion, and the two other vessels waiting for their new masts, there could be no chance to move until the timbers had been winched aboard and properly secured. We could only watch as the smaller ships of the Fleet slowly made their way towards the harbour entrance. With so many ships in close anchorage it was going to take time to allow all the Fleet to make way through the entrance but in my own mind I could see little reason to hurry.
By the accounts of the dwarvendim we had three full days to retreat from the islands, and that time would not elapse until tomorrow morning at the earliest. In this matter however, we only had the incomplete records of Caren'thal to guide us. It occurred to me as I watched the weather unfold that perhaps it was a lack of confidence regarding the adventurer's writings that had sent the Maturi and his brethren to Troga'hem. They had gone there to confirm something and had obviously found it. The warning light on the mountain peak could only have come from the dwarvendim, and it had spurred our Captain to immediate action. It could only mean that our time was up, and that somewhere upon the island the Earth Spirits of Caren'thal were stirring. Until the Dromannion had passed through the great arch I had no duties so I found a perch upon the balustrade of the mid-deck and waited for the mast to be secured aboard.
In the increasing swell the few boats that guided the new mast towards the Dromannion struggled with its weight. In the heave of the waves the piece of unfinished timber lay wallowing, only moving under the brute strength of the sailors who strained at their oars as they strove to bring the mast to the Dromannion's port side, there to be winched aboard. My attention was fixed on this struggle. It seemed impossible that the crewmen could get the timber aboard in time, the churning sea frustrating their attempts at drawing it close enough for winching. What I could not know was the greater struggle that had begun unseen upon the island, one that would prove to be so important to our escape from Amen'wraith.
Faren came to my side as I watched the mast's approach and stood for a time. He was not looking at the sea though. For him there was something far more important happening upon the island itself, and it kept his gaze locked upon the beaches. I noticed what he was doing and looked out into the gloom, wondering what might still remain that could fix his attention so closely. Within the curtains of rain a dark shape remained indistinct upon the sands. It was a small skiff and by its side stood the tall figure of a man. Someone was still ashore.
Immediately I turned to Faren but he forestalled any question I might have had. Instead he mouthed the word 'Stump' and then pointed again to the rain obscured beach. I had no idea why the northerner might still be ashore and I could feel a knot twisting in my stomach as I watched what unfolded.
It is strange how helpless a person can feel when confronted with circumstances that are out of their control, but are forced to watch idly as they unfold. In the waters to the port of the Dromannion the crew was fighting a desperate battle to winch the half finished mast aboard. In the rigging above another battle was being fought to ready the ship for departure, and at all sides the once quiet harbour was churning itself into a cauldron sea, pitching and heaving the ship in its swell as the sky turned to a greying blanket of rushing cloud and drenching rain.
In the midst of this I stood unmoving, aware that great labours were being engaged upon around the ship, but with my eyes firmly fixed towards the beach and the disappearing form of Stump. In the gathering darkness I could see little. With each passing moment the Dromannion was edging further towards the harbour entrance and within the squalls of wind and rain I could only find the dim form of the man as a vague shadow. And he was doing nothing but waiting. Again I turned to Faren and it was then that I noticed the dark shapes of the pillars that stood at the entrance to the harbour. They were wrapped in the mists, indistinct behind veils of rain but something was wrong. They were beginning to move.
In disbelief I stared intently upon the pillars and took a firmer hold of the baluster at my back. At that same instant a call rang out from the forward watch and all attention turned to the incredible sight of the solid stone coming to life. Like giants slowly rising to wakefulness the pillars began to take form, the weathered and beaten appearance of the stone disappearing as each slowly stretched and flexed limbs long quiet. Before our eyes these Colossi grew to monstrous reality and it was only then that the real danger of Amen'wraith became apparent.
From the starboard side of the great arch the Colossus at its base began tearing stone from its root. Huge hands pounded the granite, dislodging fractured pieces of rock that fell haphazardly to the ground. In a rising tide of energy and violence the giant was possessed, its intention seemingly to tear down the arch and trap the remaining vessels of the Fleet that had not yet escaped into open water. The sight of the Colossus at work immediately changed the focus of all aboard. In less time than it took for me to turn to the wheeldeck and find the Captain in the gloom, orders were shouted to the officers supervising the loading of the mast. In seconds its moorings were cut, ditched back into the swell, lost with a crashing spray of water to the priorities of our survival. All hands then went to the rigging, and those that could be spared manned the ballistas that lined the starboard hull. Sails came down from their yards in thundering booms as their sheets immediately filled with air, pitching the bow of the ship deep into the water as the Captain shouted and cursed, driving his men to turn the ship quickly towards the harbour entrance.
At once the ship reacted to the sail, drawing itself ponderously to the east and the beckoning safety of the open sea. At our starboard side the Colossus pounded at the root of the arch whilst on the port headland the other stone giant stood patient, waiting for some trigger that might direct it to action. We did not have to wait long to find out what that trigger might be.
In the turmoil of the storm the Dromannion laboured for the sanctuary that could be found beyond the great stone arch. Luckily most of the Fleet had already made it to open sea, only five ships still remained within the confines of the harbour, the three ships waiting for their new masts, the Dromannion, the Avernell and the Corescant, and two older vessels that were making difficult headway in the rough swell. Against the action of an angry sea we pounded our way eastwards, and when we were no more than half a kilometre from the headlands the second stone giant came to life. Bending low it raised something within its hand and threw it out into the waters before our ships. It was a boulder the size of a longboat and it smashed into the heaving waves less than a ship-length ahead of the Avernell. Again the Colossus bent low and again another great stone was thrown high towards us. This second missile landed closer, spraying the decks of the Avernell and heaving the ship sidewards as it desperately tried to avoid the lethal projectile. The Captain of the Avernell did not wait for the Colossus to bend low once more. From within the rain and mist four long arcs of fire rose from the side of the ship, its port ballistas sending projectiles of their own tracing a path to the giant. Even above the storm I could hear the bolts explode, concussions slamming somewhere within the mists. In that moment both of the Colossi faltered.
In the belief that the bolts had been effective against the stone giant the Dromannion also let loose a salvo of its own. Again the mists were torn by huge explosions and in the light of the concussions we could all see the stone giant take a back step, trying to steady itself as it single-mindedly tried to return to its task. On the southern headland the other Colossus ceased pounding against the arch and instead stooped to pick up one of the large pieces of rock that had fallen at its feet. In one swift movement the boulder sailed through the air, spinning on its axis as it flew between the masts of the Dromannion, before crashing into the sea at our port side.
To counter this new attack the Dromannion turned all its armament to the starboard, unloading round after round of explosive fire upon the southern headland. The Avernell continued to throw bolts against the Colossus to the north, but our fire was now divided and even under the umbrella of explosions that tore at the stone giants' bodies, they did not falter again from their task. Out of the scudding cloud above a huge boulder fell into the midst of the escaping vessels, then a second and a third crashed into the sea, spewing geysers of water into the air ahead of us. It was only a matter of time before one would strike its target.
With a crack that could be heard above the rip and tear of the storm, a deadly missile smashed into the stern of the Corescant, splintering its wheeldeck and tearing away the rear third of the ship. In a matter of seconds the vessel wallowed in the swell, floundering as it quickly began to sink into the dark waters.
Now lay a terrible decision for the Captains of the Dromannion and the Avernell. Both lay in line to the rear of the Corescant and as we bore down upon the stricken vessel I could see dozens of crew and passengers jumping into the churning sea. More than one hundred and fifty souls dwelt aboard the ship and now most were scrambling for whatever debris could be found. I swear that every person on deck turned to the Captain. To ignore the plight of those in the water would condemn them to certain death in the cold sea. To stop and pick them out of the swell would expose all aboard the Dromannion, more than nine hundred souls, to the same fate. I could not make such a decision but the Captain did. Again commands were shouted out across the vessel, all hands climbing into the ratlines and shrouds, waiting for the order to furl sail. We were going to take our chances and rescue whoever we could.
The Avernell saw what was about to happen and drew up upon our starboard side, keeping some fifty metres distant. Upon her decks I could see ballista-crews pulling the huge crossbows from her port mountings and hurriedly affixing all the weaponry she had to the starboard. In the same manner the Dromannion did the reverse, taking all her armament to the port, the fire-crews hastily mounting and loading the weapons as the two ships furled sail and dropped sea anchors, bringing them both to a stop within the debris that was the remains of the Corescant.
Upon the headlands the Colossi continued about their deadly work, and again huge boulders began falling into the sea about us. This time however the concentrated fire of the two ships arched out over the waters, the whole force of the Dromannion bearing upon the northern headland, the fire of the Avernell striking the south. Within the hail of explosions and flying rock, those that could help began the task of dragging survivors out of the water. We could not lower boats so crew and passengers tied ropes about themselves and jumped into the swell, grabbing hold of the weakening survivors and pulling them towards lowered gangways that scooped them out of the brine.
It was a desperate time. Within minutes of coming to rest the Avernell was hit, a huge boulder smashing through the shrouds of its foremast before landing within the masses of floating survivors. All was chaos, but as the rescue continued our salvation appeared, and in its coming we could do nothing but sit like ducks upon the water and watch.
As I think on it now I can see clearly what happened but are at a loss to explain it. The island of Amen'wraith had given us much, but it is a paradise that harbours a terrible secret. I have no doubt in my mind that the rising of the Colossi were indeed the earth-spirits alluded to by Caren'thal the Younger. We had taken much from the island and now we were to pay a heavy price for that boon. For whatever reason the earth-spirits would now take their toll, taxing us for the supplies and materials we had hastily torn from the land. Only four ships remained afloat and in the violence being visited upon us I could not see how we would not all suffer the same fate. Then the tide turned.
Within the clouds above each of the Colossi, a bright blue light began to shine, and in its glimmer the clouds themselves began to twist and deform. Quickly the mists and rain were swept up in a maelstrom of spinning cloud and rushing air. As I watched the light grew quickly, building in intensity as the violence of the twisting clouds increased. In a matter of seconds both of the Colossi were engulfed in the screaming vortices, their rough forms disappearing within the swirling mists, their arms flailing against the power of the winds.
It was the one respite we needed. Whatever the source of the intervention we now had a chance to haul the remaining survivors from the water. Ninety souls were retrieved, the rest lost to the depths. As the Colossi writhed within their atmospheric bonds we dragged everyone who could be saved aboard and made sail once again. In the heave of the swell the remaining ships of the Fleet made the headlands and then sailed cleanly out into the storm-swept sea beyond. It was only as the Dromannion rode its way beneath the great stone arch that I remembered Stump and searched the shoreline at our rear. In the gloom of the storm I could see nothing of him, only the faint hint of a bluish glow emanating from somewhere ashore. I can only believe that he has been lost to us.
Day Eighty
For two days we have rode the waves at anchor, having travelled no farther than the northern edge of Amen'wraith. Our escape from the torment of the Colossi has left us with much to repair and a need to take stock of what we were able to obtain from the islands. It is evident that apart from the last few hours of our stay upon Amen'wraith, we were able to find everything that we needed for a voyage of at least four months. All the ships of the Fleet lay low in the water, full holds a measure of the bounty we were able to scavenge from that brooding paradise. It was not without cost however. In those last desperate hours of our escape we have lost the Corescant, and sixty of her complement. Another ninety souls now crowd aboard the Dromannion and it seems that this has not been the total cost of our stay. The Avernell now mourns eight crewmen in the exchange with the stone giants, torn from mast or swept overboard in the hail of boulders. Only with the dawn of yesterday has it been confirmed that not only had Stump remained behind on the island, but that the Maturi Hedj, his companion the Shadar Len, and the other dwarvendim of their number have also been left to an uncertain fate.
Such losses have left us in despair but the voyage must continue, and to that end we have all been put to our duties, preparing for a long traverse of the deep ocean to our west. The Dromannion has lost its new foremast and because of this the ship has had to be retrimmed and rigged for only two masts. As far as anyone knows there will be no further opportunity to obtain new timber so we are now shackled by this disability. The Captain seems content however, that he has a ship at all, and in this there is complete agreement amongst all who sail with her.
The storm that so briskly assailed us while we were at harbour has moved on, its cloud and winds pushing to the south-east. In the calm of this day we have been hard at work, providing proper storage to all that we obtained from the island, and reorganising our accommodations to fit the additional passengers and crew from the Corescant aboard. To this end all the Healer's Assistants have been moved from our cabin to a new berth on a lower deck of the ship. To call it a berth however is somewhat charitable. To find room for us we have been placed in what is called the Capstan Well. Here, within a small rectangular room in the mid-decks we have been asked to find a good night sleep, and sufficient room to stretch our legs. It has proven difficult as the Well is dominated by a huge rotating wooden drum, which serves as a shaft connecting a winch upon the deck above with the gear that pulls in the anchor on the deck below. We have found that at those times when it is necessary to drop or raise anchor that the movement of the crew above as they labour with the capstan, the turning of the shaft, and the rushing grind of the messenger cables below creates a deafening noise that clears us quickly from the room. The only saving grace to this situation is that it is infrequent and should be less so once we are once again under sail.
In the course of our day's work I have heard much rumour surrounding our escape from Amen'wraith. The appearance of the stone giants and their entrapment within the extraordinary vortices of blue light has left all the members of our vessel in a state of frantic speculation. In truth I do not know what happened but my suspicions lay in this matter with Stump. I have learned from Faren that the northerner asked no permission to return to the beach. Why he was waiting there as the rest of the Fleet departed is unknown. It is in my thoughts that he knew the dwarvendim had not returned and wished to provide them with transport. It is a possibility, he had spent much time with the Maturi but I believe in this endeavour that he had miscalculated, the skiff he took too small to carry them all back to the Dromannion. It is a mystery that will probably remain unsolved. It is a great shame that all these men have been left behind. The knowledge and skills they possessed will be difficult to do without, but above all I counted the northerner as a friend, and this pains me the most.
Day Eighty-one
At midday today the Fleet has been scheduled to make sail for the west. According to the maps provided by the Maturi our journey now lies in this direction, passing to the south of the Til'carrion Islands before heading north to a part of the Grey Sea known as the Midreach. Here it is said we will find an island chain named by Caren'thal the Younger as Clan'dael. Unlike the Laerion Islands, Clan'dael holds no particular significance, but it will make a suitable point to harbour before the longest, and most perilous leg of our journey to the New World begins. Thankfully there have been no mention by any of the dwarvendim of earth-spirits or any other boundaries to our stay there. The only point of note given up by them is that the Til'carrion should not be approached. There is no mention of why, just a determination that it would be dangerous to do so. I am happy to record here that our Captain has taken such advice to heart.
It is now the last bell before midday and preparations for the return to our voyage are almost complete. I have taken a few minutes as we wait for the order to raise our anchors to write these words and then rest before the Capstan Well springs into life. It is my hope that this next leg of our journey will be uneventful.
Day Eighty-two
This eighty-second day of our voyage has passed into memory and it has been one filled with the routine of the ship and the consequences of a most remarkable happening. My melancholy at the demise of Stump and the dwarvendim has proven to be premature, and with some considerable joy I now have the opportunity to relate what has happened.
In the hour before midday of the day past, I was relaxing in my new quarters, along with a number of the other Assistants. Ahlek was with me, and as we waited for the sounds of men organising themselves upon the capstan above, we talked on the events of the last days. The landing at Amen'wraith had been both enlivening and tinged with the sorrow of our losses, but we spent most of the time available to us talking about Stump and the circumstances of his strange actions. I must confess that I was about to tell Ahlek what I knew of the northerner. With him now lost to us there seemed little point in keeping his true identity in shadow any longer. I am grateful that I did not.
With the commotion of the crew organising themselves against the huge winch on the deck above us, we both knew that the order to raise anchor and begin the next leg of hour journey was close at hand. Together we left the Capstan Well and made our way back to the mid-deck. I have not yet lost the felling of excitement that comes when the crew is given the order to make sail. As it was I was glad that I was on deck when the call came from the watch above.
"Sail to port!", came the cry from the mast head above us and all turned their attention in that direction. The Dromannion was flanked on its starboard side by the wide array of the Fleet, but a few ships were to our port side, and most who were on deck looked not because it was important, but because the question was raised in all our minds as to why it might be something worth a call from the watch. To everyone's surprise a small boat was making all speed towards us from the direction of the islands.
From the wheeldeck came a brace of running officers, shouting to the available hands to begin lowering the port gangway, and as I looked back to the Captain I could see him straining to gain a clear identification of who it might be. The boat was ours and I had no doubt who it could be. Only one skiff had been left behind and sure enough Stump was sitting at the tiller, tacking the small craft directly towards the Dromannion. Such news travels fast and within minutes the decks were crowded with people, both passengers and off-duty crew, all watching as the skiff rose and fell in the swell, making its way slowly to the side of its mother-ship.
Most importantly however, it was the Captain himself who came to the top of the gangway and waited for the retrieval of his boat. Only on a few occasions have I seen the man leave the confines of his wheeldeck. He is Lord and Master of his ship and leaves the routine of the vessel to his Officers and the dozen or so Mates that keep the Dromannion in good order. This time he stood as a man both excited and strangely grim. Something was about to happen and his presence at the top of the gangway ensured that all who were on deck would remain there until it played itself out.
The skiff came to rest at the foot of the gangway and was quickly winched out of the sea and secured to its davits. The three passengers however, waited upon the small platform that formed the lower part of the gangway's reach into the swell below. All looked as if they had been through a great ordeal, and it did not pass without notice that two of the dwarvendim were missing.
It was the Second Officer that shepherded Stump, the Maturi Hedj and the Shadar Len aboard. All were embraced warmly and the dwarvendim were then taken to their cabins. At their heals followed the Healer Faren and Ahlek Norahm, the Captain's order to begin tending to whatever injuries they might have sustained in their escape from Amen'wraith. Stump was not so kindly dealt with. Whilst the Captain looked on the First Officer proclaimed to all present that the northerner had taken a vessel of the Fleet without authority, and had chosen to place himself in danger without due consideration of how that might then endanger others. The fact that he had rescued the Maturi and Shadar was to be taken into account, but such charges could not go unanswered. To all it was declared that Stump had earned for himself the sanction of two weeks in the Brig, and that such punishment could not be appealed. In a crush of protesting passengers the northerner was shackled as if he was a common criminal, and then taken below. Curiously he did not seem at all bothered.
With the skiff aboard and Stump and the dwarvendim safely below the order was given to make sail. I watched from the starboard balustrade of the quarter-deck as the Fleet got underway, filled with the same sense of excitement that I have felt for the start of each leg of this great journey. There is nobody aboard who is not thankful for the return of those we had thought lost, but it has been tainted by the punishment metered to the northerner. I have determined that when I have the time I shall try and understand why it was necessary.
Day Eighty-five
We now stand three days into our journey from the Laerion Islands and the routine of the ship has reasserted itself firmly. The weather has remained fair, a steady wind from the south-east pushing us quickly westwards. The Fleet rides the waves, the wakes of many ships stirring the sea as we move upon a world of water that stretches to all horizons. All the Healers have returned to the strict discipline of our duties. As has been the case so far we spend the morning tending to those who come looking for our aid, and then spend the afternoon searching out those who need our help but do not seek it. Such work has taken me to every part of the ship and I have noticed that many of the ailments that previously afflicted those aboard have disappeared. The provision of fresh foods and a dose of dry land have done wonders for the general health of all. I have noticed also that whilst most of us were ashore upon Amen'wraith that the crew who remained aboard have cleaned and smoked out the ship, clearing away most of the vermin that previously resided here. This has had an immediate effect on the spread of an unknown skin affliction that had been starting to take hold aboard the Dromannion.
The Grey Sea spreads before us as a vast wasteland of moving water, one that changes its nature with each passing hour. I have seen great storms passing to the south and for most of the day we have had the benefit of a stiff easterly breeze that pushes us ever westward. As I look into the limitless expanses of the horizon I cannot help but think back at the events of the past days. The beauty of Amen'wraith and the malevolence of the earth-spirits is a strange paradox, one that underlines how little we know about where we are headed. Our efforts whilst in Amen'wraith have however, set us in good stead for the voyage ahead and although the cost was high we remain in good spirits. It is my hope that for the remainder of our journey we shall not be presented with any further paradoxes such as Amen'wraith.
Day Eighty-six
Today I was given permission to go and visit with Stump. He was in need of his books, and had requested that they be brought to him. The Master-of-the-Watch was under no obligation to do so, but gave authority for them to be received and I immediately volunteered for the duty. It was a good opportunity to find out what had transpired on the island, one I was not going to let pass.
With books in hand I made my way to the Brig, and there found Stump entombed within one of its four cells. He appeared in good health but seemed less gracious about the reasons as to why he was imprisoned than he had at first presented. The books however were well received. I asked if I might stay for a short time and spent a good hour talking with him on the events surrounding the appearance of the Troga'dahl, as he called the earth-spirits, and his return to the Dromannion. I did not expect him to say anything regarding the entrapment of the stone giants and he avoided any comments of that, however he did take the time to tell me everything else that had happened. It was quite a story.
Everything started with the departure of the Maturi and his attendants to the peak of the Troga'hem. To most it appeared no more than a simple sojourn inland to explore the summits of the island. The dwarvendim were mountain people after all, and such an expedition seemed as logical to him as the need for the rest of us to spend time at the beach. This was not entirely the case however. The Maturi was making the ascent to give better warning of the approach of the earth-spirits, as it was a fact of their arising that certain signs would become visible, and it was their feeling that such signs could be best identified from altitude. Stump was not sure that there would be enough time for the dwarvendim to return and turned his thoughts to how he might assure their escape back to the Fleet.
When the signal came from the summit of Troga'hem that the rise of the earth-spirits was imminent the Fleet readied itself, and in that activity no-one noticed as the northerner slipped the holds on the small skiff and made his way ashore. With the appearance of the stone giants he had little choice but to wait, hoping that their attention would not turn upon him. Stump described all that occurred in the battle to gain the mouth of Amen'wraith's harbour, but said nothing on the origin of the blue vortices that entrapped the spirits so effectively.
With the passing of the last vessels of the Fleet into the Grey Sea, the vortices faded, releasing the Troga'dahl from their magical restraints. Immediately they both made for Stump, leaving their positions at each headland and advancing towards him from the northern and southern ends of the beach. He could not launch the Skiff, the storm had turned the harbour into a cauldron of shredded waves that would have capsized the small craft within minutes of leaving the shore. Instead, the northerner abandoned the boat and his position on the beach, and ran for the cover of the forest with the enormous stone giants in pursuit.
The Troga'dahl had been foiled in their attempt to extract full payment for the boon we had gained from Amen'wraith, but in the fleeing figure of the northerner there was a small recompense. Stump could do nothing but run for the safety of the trees and the anonymity that might be found in their shadows. The stone giants were not about to give up. In great clawing swipes of their malformed hands they uprooted huge tracts of the woodland, smashing timbers and scooping out the ground below in their attempt to find the elusive figure. By some combination of luck and skill Stump was able to elude his pursuers, and with the giants searching the trees to the east, took refuge in a hollow found beneath the roots of an ancient Oak. Within its cool shadows he waited until the stone giants had gone and the forest once again became quiet.
By the time he was sure that he was alone the storm had moved on and the Troga'dahl were nowhere to be seen. He had survived the fury of the earth-spirits, but his only concern was the return of the dwarvendim to the Fleet before it departed for the Midreach. To do this he would need to find them. First however, he had to check on the seaworthiness of the skiff he had left on the beach. Without it there was no going anywhere and with this objective in mind carefully made his way back to the harbour. To his surprise the boat was still intact and standing beside it he found both the Maturi and the Shadar Len. There was no sign of the other dwarvendim, the unfortunate truth revealed that all were dead, taken by the Troga'dahl as they tried to draw the giants away from the Maturi.
Of the Troga'dahl there was now no sign. It seemed that they had returned to the earth, the great columns of stone again visible at the mouth of the harbour. For the Maturi this did not mean that they could now sail out into open waters. He could not be certain that to make for the entrance might not yet again trigger the rising of the Collosi, and counselled against trying. Instead they formulated a plan that required they drag the skiff to a small beach on the other side of the northern headland. Exposed to the open sea, this beach would provide them with the access they needed to return to the Fleet without awakening the earth-spirits once again.
Such a task would require both time and great effort. The beach the Maturi spoke of lay some six kilometres to the north, beyond the thickest part of the forests bordering the harbour, and across a wide area of rising stony ground from which the northern headland thrust out into the Grey Sea. In this matter however, they had little choice but to attempt the crossing. They started in the late afternoon, dragging the skiff deep into the forest until they could go no further, then made camp until the first light of the new day. That following day passed as the three men hauled at the boat, finding a torturous passage through the woodlands until they came upon a series of stepped hills. In the failing light of evening they knew that they could go no further and made camp once again.
That second night was spent at the base of these hills, and it was in the lightless hours before dawn that their small party encountered a large group of the island's forest dwellers. In the mists of the early morning Stump was awoken to the sounds of movement in the trees surrounding their camp. Quickly he woke the others, and with makeshift weapons at hand, waited for the creatures to make themselves known. As with my own experience the shadowed figures did not attack nor attempt to communicate, instead they maintained a short vigil before fading back into the gloom of the forest. It was the northerner's distinct impression that the small beings seemed confused by the men's continued presence on the island. They seemed to harbour no ill-will but were curious as to why the skiff was being hauled through the forest. It was the last they saw of the Morg.
The second full day of their ordeal was concerned only with taking the skiff over the stony rises before them, and it was not until the fall of the suns in the west that they had achieved their aim of crossing this barrier. The northerner commented openly that it could not have been done but for the enormous strength possessed by the dwarvendim. A hard life of slavery had equipped them for the rigours of such a task and together they had prevailed where other men might have given in. It was Stump's opinion that such men are better kept as allies than enemies. Such determination he said, could be found in few other peoples.
The remainder of the northener's tale played itself out with the skiff being dragged into the water in the quiet of the following morning. With the suns rising before them the boat's small sail was unfurled, catching the first breaths of wind that had begun to push from the south-east. If the three men had been even an hour slower in making the Fleet they would have been left behind, and such would have been their fate.
I could see in the northerner's face and posture as he recounted his story that the ordeal had taken a great deal from him. Unlike other conversations that I have had with Stump, where the quickness of his wit and the depth of his knowledge would tax anyone's ability to simply keep up, he now fumbled for words beneath the blanket of a fatigue that was far more than just physical. I left him to his books and returned to the solitude of my quarters within the Well. I have no further duties today and I find it gives me the time to think on the events of the last days, and wonder at the power that must have been brought to the task of ensnaring the Troga'dahl. I can concede that I do not have much knowledge of the Gaels, and within that limitation I do not know the extent of their powers. If it was indeed Stump who rendered the stone giants ineffective then it is perhaps no surprise that he has been diminished by the effort.
Day Eighty-seven
The routine of our ship continues, the steady winds a regular bluster from the south-east. Clouds have begun to crowd the northern sky placing a dark border on what has been a clear day. It is now evening and I find myself once again upon the foredeck, taking in a few minutes of fresh air before I return to my quarters below. Such times have become more precious to all of us who live in the Well. Without windows it can be a confinement tolerated only because we need be there only for sleep. Eight of us now call these quarters home, and it is probably four too many.
On this fine evening the decks are alive with activity. The Dromannion is a large ship, more than eighty metres in length, but it carries more than nine-hundred souls aboard and most spend the greater part of their day below decks. All who can take the time to breathe fresh air and get exercise, and it is due to the latter that the mid-deck is now teeming with excited passengers and crew. In the temperate conditions the perfect opportunity has presented itself to engage in a team sport known as Shurdu. Although simple in its rules it requires great physical endurance and has become a favourite recreation for all aboard, allowing the stresses and frustrations of our day to be released without malice upon others. It is an activity that has grown quickly in popularity, and one that now disturbs my moments of solace upon the foredeck with greater frequency.
Consisting of a cleared area no more than fifteen metres square, the playing surface for Shurdu is compact and made for quick results. Two teams of four compete, the objective for one team to place a small ball of tightly sewn rags outside the square, the objective of the other to stop them from doing so by any physical means possible, the only restriction that no player can place his hands upon another. When one team is successful the objectives are reversed and the attackers then become defenders. Points are scored on how many times a team is successful in defence. A dropped ball ends that team's possession. Skilfully done it is a test of both strength and finesse, one that challenges the players' stamina, whilst providing endless opportunity for discussion and controversy due to the subjective nature of its scoring system.
As I listen to the excitement of the games at my back there is just enough light to watch the endless vista of the Grey Sea ahead. Lightning arcs in great bursts of light on the northern horizon, and I can feel the first hints of a change in the wind. From my perch beside the forecastle I can hear the rush of the ship as its bow cuts cleanly through the waves below. As dark shadows shrouded in grey the rest of the Fleet sails with us, dozens of white-capped wakes the only evidence of our passing.
A person could be forgiven for thinking that there is nothing before us except the sea, but we have no choices now. Everything is staked upon the accuracy of the Maturi's maps and the truthfulness of Caren'thal the Younger's accounts. If indeed there is a new world in the west it must lay a great distance ahead. For the moment however, our goal remains the Midreach, and the islands of Clan'dael.
Day Ninety-one
Today has seen the return of great numbers of Kreel flying at altitude towards the north-west. As before we did little to bring attention to ourselves and in consequence none of the creatures faltered in their flight. It has been the third day in succession where flocks of the winged reptiles have been seen overhead. I am not alone in wondering where the Kreel are making for, the Captain himself having mentioned their passing in each of his morning meetings with his officers.
For their part the dwarvendim cannot provide any more information than that which has been given to them by the writings of Caren'thal. Where the Kreel are making for is unknown, however the thought has been broached that the islands of Til'carrion may be their destination. We cannot be sure, and Captain Duschet has ordered the making and fitting of six new ballistas to the sides of the Dromannion. Such work has kept the ship's carpenters and solitary blacksmith busy for the past two days. It will be at least three more days before they will be ready. I am considering whether I should volunteer to be trained in their use. I believe the ship will need additional firecrews to man them and it would be an interesting diversion from the routine of my duties.
I am happy to say that the NomDruse children have begun to show more interest in the daily activities of the ship. Since their rescue from Corin'kraag they have remained below decks, seemingly withdrawn from all that has been occurring about them, but such isolation cannot be allowed to continue. Their quarters in the lower fore-deck have been renamed as the Cresh, a Haarn word for sanctuary, and seemingly fitting to the small world that they have built for themselves. Only a few of those that tend their needs have been able to get close, but slowly they have opened up and for the first time today a few have appeared above-decks. I have talked with Stump on this and he has said that the children have been taught to distrust others, and it is a barrier that shall keep them apart until they see that we pose no threat to them.
The northerner remains in the Brig, his captivity a point of considerable discussion amongst both the crew and the refugees aboard. It has come to light that only the successful rescue of the Maturi and his Shadar kept him from a public flogging, a common punishment for those who act without the consent of the Captain. For his part Stump now seems very happy with his captivity. If nothing else the Brig is clean and well-kept, and as the only resident at this time he has both room and privacy, something highly prized on a crowded ship. His lack of freedom has been offset in his own mind by the lack of duties he must perform and he appears to be making the most of the time available to him. Given the disregard he is now held in by the Captain it will be interesting to see if he remains a Healer once his incarceration has passed.
Day Ninety-two
The weather has now worsened, the winds swinging to the south. Banks of cloud have begun to move in our direction and there are curtains of rain blanketing the sea both eastwards and at our stern. The winds are brisk but come at us in blusters that keep the crew busy with the sails, and cause the ship to roll with each blow. All the ships of the Fleet remain in good order however, and in spite of the loss of our foremast, the Dromannion keeps pace with the vessels that ply the waters about us. On all sides the Fleet rides the waves, and all aboard seem optimistic of our prospects, regardless of the steadily rising seas.
The Kreel have made a further appearance to the north. A great gathering of the reptiles can be seen circling at the far horizon, a swirling flock of leather-winged creatures that are too indistinct in their distance to be properly observed, but close enough for the Captain to prescribe a continuous watch upon them. The weather gives no help to our need to watch them carefully, banks of cloud moving between us as we head westwards, obscuring our view in a procession of grey veils. So far they have given no cause to show that they wish to attack us. It seems that the experiences myself and others had upon the shores of Corin'kraag will not be repeated upon the open sea. Still we watch, and prepare for any sign of approaching danger.
It is with some surprise that I can now report that Stump has been freed from his incarceration. Although the full fortnight of his captivity has not yet passed he has been returned to the ranks of our number, continuing in his training as a Healer. He seems quite unhappy with his early release. The solitude that he has been enjoying has ended abruptly and Faren has promised that he is to be fully returned to the burden of his duties. There are rumours circulating that the Captain was most vexed by the apparent contentment of his prisoner, and in an effort to forestall any further relaxation had him released to normal duties. It says much about the hardships of our daily lives that the Captain considered this as an option.
The routine of our ship continues and with the encroaching weather as a wide backdrop I can see the crew of the Dromannion hard at work amongst its sails preparing the ship for its onslaught.
Day Ninety-three
Early this morning the weather ran us down. In the gloom of a fog-ridden dawn the first cloud banks overtook the Fleet and in its embrace we have been beset by rain. I thank Fate that there are no great storms buried within its cold, gathering arms but the winds and rain have hammered at our ship and continue to roil the waters about us with its deluge. The Dromannion pitches in the high seas, and in the ferocity of the wind white-caps are forming on the swell, spraying brine as a stinging mist across our decks. It is going to be an uncomfortable day.
Day Ninety-five
For the past days the rain has given us no respite, the sea rising in huge waves that have left our great ship bobbing like a shard of cork in a swinging bucket. Without rest all hands have fought against its continuing assault, and in the late hours of the day we have finally seen sign of its passing. There has been little damage caused by the weather and for this we are all thankful. All indications are that the Fleet has suffered no losses but a new threat has emerged in the distraction of the gales, one that may prove far more difficult to fight against.
For most of afternoon myself, Stump and another Assistant by the name of Damon Ensh have been busy in the bowels of the ship, clearing a small area in the steerage as a makeshift quarantine area. An unusual affliction has been uncovered in our routine search of the ship and we cannot determine what it is. As a precaution Faren has placed a young girl in isolation. We do not know if her malady is contagious, only that the sickness brings on a high fever and tremors of the limbs that have proven hard to control. Damon has volunteered to stay at the girl's side, and we have set guards to ensure that she remains out of reach to all but those who tend her. The Healer Faren is not saying what he thinks it might be but I have not seen him this worried for some time.
Day Ninety-six
The weather has passed and the sky has turned to a clear vault of blue, only high clouds trailing as thin wisps to the south any indication of what we have endured. Below decks our situation has turned quickly for the worse and now our attention must focus inwards, to the well-being of the girl and of Damon Ensch. Within hours of her quarantine Damon has also fallen ill. To our dismay the remainder of her family has quickly presented with the early signs of the infection, and now we have been forced to cordon the entire deck, evacuating more than one hundred people to temporary quarters on higher levels.
We have no idea yet as to what the malady could be, everybody who might have come into contact with the girl or her family have been separated from the rest of the ship's complement, and now we wait to see if these are any new signs of its spread. Damon has not yet succumbed to the tremors that now wrack the body of the girl but his reports show that the disease is quick to strike and relentless in its occupation. Faren has conferred with his colleagues aboard the Avernell and it has been decided that the Dromannion must be declared as a quarantined vessel until the disease has run its course. None of the other Healer's Assistants have been allowed to enter the steerage and help Damon. It is our fear that such a disease could not afflict only a single individual. It is our greater fear that it has been aboard ship for some time, smouldering quietly beyond notice, awaiting an opportunity to take hold amongst us.
Day Ninety-seven
We continue westwards and the situation below decks has worsened. Thirty-two passengers have now fallen ill, six hanging close to the edge of death. Damon has not yet fallen into unconsciousness but he feels the effects of the malady spreading through his limbs, a strange prickling sensation that begins at the shoulders and spreads outwards to the arms and lower trunk. We talk to him through the companionway doors but can have no direct contact with him. Within the lowest deck he remains alone to tend those who have fallen ill. Soon he will need help himself, and it will be up to one of our number to enter the steerage and try and determine what it is that has spread so quickly amongst us.
At midday a meeting was called between the Healers and the Captain's Officers. None of the crew has yet been afflicted but passengers on the lower decks make up most of those who have been struck down. Without any hint as to the transmission of the disease we have been asked to clear all the lower levels of passengers and make space for them on the weather-decks. Until the disease has taken its course it has been decided that all who remain unaffected must live at the mercy of the elements. Fortune is with us only in that the weather remains fine, the first sign of rain will surely send everyone below once again. It is our hope that the weather will hold until we can find some way to fight this affliction.
Stump has volunteered to go below and help Damon with his patients. The Shadar Len has also agreed to take his chances in the steerage, along with a young Dwarvendim women by the name of Lanja Narris. Such a move has been resisted by Captain Duschet but the Healer Faren has agreed that something must be done, and both he and I know that Stump is probably the best person to send below. As of yet only myself and Faren know of the true identity of the northerner and in the confines of the lower decks it is our hope that he might be able to discretely do something to help.
The dwarvendim are a different matter. None have yet been fallen ill and it is possible that they have a resistance to the disease. Both the Shadar and Lanja Narris seem eager to be of help and in the evening they were provided with what they would need and sent into the steerage. Until this crisis has passed we will not see them again.
Before I close my journal on this day I must record a most unusual event. The wind blows strongly at our back and in the failing light of the day I can see the Fleet spread about us in all directions. Both the Dromannion and the Avernell serve as the centre of a wide dispersal of ships, with the Equinox and the Arboron at the front, scouting the way ahead. It is at dusk that the navigation lanterns are lit upon all the ships and if the weather is clear, it is possible to see as points of light all the vessels of our number forging into the gathering dark. Tonight it is particularly clear, and with my duties completed I took the time to watch the onset of night from the foredeck. It was as I stood leaning against the foreword ballista mounting that I heard the sound of a great rushing of air from somewhere in the gloom. To anyone else it might sound as nothing more than the surge of water against the ship's bow, but I am a Potter by trade and know well the long exhalation of a bellows as it forces air into a kiln. Out on the open sea it was not a sound I would expect to hear.
For some time I listened to the running of the wind and the surge of the ocean until it came once again, a long drawn out expulsion of air as if a great creature was exhaling after holding its breath. In the dark it was impossible to see anything, but another great exhalation came from further ahead, and then a series that left me with no doubt that a group of huge beasts lay somewhere in the darkness to our starboard. I was about to call to the watch when something slid beneath the bow, a large shape that glowed dim blue in the black wash of the sea before disappearing beneath the Dromannion's hull. Three more of the vague luminescent shapes followed before all was again quiet. Nobody has yet taken what I saw seriously, I have no evidence of the encounter, but I have informed the Second Officer of the watch and he has duly noted what I described in his log.
Day Ninety-nine
Today is the ninety-ninth day of our voyage, and I can record that the Fleet stands becalmed upon the Grey Sea with no hint of a breeze to push us forward. For the past two days it has been this way, the ships of the Fleet wallowing in a still and languid ocean, only the current carrying us towards the west. The winds that have so faithfully transported us to this point have disappeared, and in their absence we sit heavy in the water with little to do except concern ourselves with the widening troubles below deck.
The sickness has spread like a grass fire on a wind-swept plain. Now numbered at one hundred and thirteen, there seems no end to the transmission of the illness. Forty-five of those afflicted have passed into a deathly unconsciousness that seems to have no escape. None have yet died but Damon Ensh can no longer tend to the sick and has himself fallen into a pallid sleep. Stump and the dwarvendim continue on with his work and have been joined by fifteen more of their brethren, none of whom have yet succumbed to the virulence of the tremoring disease. They appear to have a natural immunity and with guidance from Faren are doing what they can to contain the outbreak. For all our work we have been unable to stop the disease's spread and can do little except look for the first signs of its catching, a tremoring at the centre of the back that spreads quickly across the shoulders.
Many of the dwarvendim who are aboard the Dromannion have found themselves needed below, but most remain above, mingling with those passengers who have had the good fortune to escape infection. It has given me some opportunity to observe their ways and the nature of their customs, many of which are quite peculiar. Their language remains a mystery to me, its guttural tones as different from the common languages of Adoracia as any I have heard, but it is their need to observe a strict routine of ritual observances that I find most intriguing.
Although it has been hard to grasp the reasoning for their customs I have found that most relate to an ongoing need to appease powerful forces connected with Stone and Wind. Of greatest importance is the need to witness the rising and setting of the suns. The Maturi leads them in these rituals and I have found myself being drawn to the singing that accompanies them. It is both moving and saddening in a way, the product of generations of toil and despair that I do not think will be forgotten easily. From what I have been able to find out from Faren it is possible that their customs have grown from the ancient beliefs surrounding the Gaels. Whether this might be so is a question I cannot answer but the affinity the dwarvendim have with stone, and the way they celebrate this in their customs, makes me wonder if they are not the custodians of an ancient knowledge of their own, one that has survived the rigours of their slavery.
Apart from my observations of the people who work around me I find that I have little to do. None can go below without risking illness and apart from minor ailments amongst those still on deck the Healer's Assistants find themselves idle, captive like all others to the lack of wind and the steady encroachment of the tremoring illness.
Day One Hundred
Another fourteen people have been sent below, and from communications we have learned that the first patient has succumbed to the affliction, passing away in the early hours of the morning. We have no answers to give those who ask what can be done, and the Healer Faren has spent most of the morning in a dire meeting with the Captain and his Officers. Anxiety, and the steady frustration of remaining becalmed in the midst of an unknown sea, has begun to fray edges that otherwise would remain steady. Fights have broken out over the most trivial of matters and the Officer of the Watch has been given cause to increase the number of men he has on patrol upon the decks. I fear that we may be heading towards a most inglorious of Dooms, one for which the Dromannion is not deserving.
As I write I feel the stress of our circumstances laying heavily upon me. My back hurts and I find it difficult to hold my quill to paper. Perhaps I should rest.
Day One hundred and twenty-three
I have been told that it is now day One hundred and twenty-three of our voyage but I can remember little of the events of the past three weeks. The ship is in uproar and although I feel both weak and a little confused I have been trying to make sense of what is happening around me. As I now write Stump is barricaded within the walls of the crew quarters in the forecastle, and for reasons that will be recounted is being stoutly protected by the dwarvendim, who will let none pass its heavy, iron-strapped doors. There appears to be no sign of the tremoring illness amongst the passengers of the Dromannion but a fear has replaced its insidious grip, one that is squarely directed at the northerner and those who are protecting him. The Healer Faren is nowhere to be found and I can get no sense from any of the other Healer's Assistant as to what has occurred.
In the evening of this day the dwarvendim Lanja Narris came to my quarters within the Well and took the time to speak with me. Although I have had the opportunity to walk around below decks the stand-off upon the foredeck has not allowed me the opportunity to see what has been going on. Her words have cleared some of the fog from my memories, and it would seem that both myself and Faren are in some amount of trouble. It did not take long for me to see why.
In the quiet of the Capstan Well the dwarvendim recounted all that had occurred since my last entry to my journal. Although I have no recollection of it, I fell victim to the tremoring in the late evening and with the help of two other passengers was taken below to be tended by Stump and the dwarvendim. As Lanja Narris accounts for it I fell quickly into unconsciousness and remained in such a state for more than two weeks. For those caring for the sick it was a desperate time, the numbers of afflicted growing with every day until even the steerage deck was not large enough to house all who needed attention.
It was on the sixteenth day of the outbreak that the quarantine decks were opened up to the afflicteds’ relatives. It had become a pointless exercise in keeping the sick quarantined as only the dwarvendim and a handful of the crew remained unaffected. In such dire circumstances the Dromannion had become a Plague Ship, and in that condition was without hope until the disease had run its course. It was only then that Stump revealed his true identity.
For Lanja Narris is was no surprise, the dwarvendim had recognised the northerner for his true nature immediately but had kept such knowledge to themselves. I can record here that apart from Faren it came as quite a shock to the rest of the Dromannion's complement.
At dusk on the One hundred and twenty-first day of our voyage the Dromannion lay becalmed with the rest of the Fleet, and with a number of the dwarvendim in attendance Shalengael stood in the midst of the sick and dying and worked his power in full view of all. Without explanation or warning he began a low chant, almost a whisper that took hold of the air about him as he worked his powers. In the gathering dark a blue aura formed about his body which quickly expanded across the decks, working its way down hatchways and corridors, finding the afflicted and locking them in a tight grasp. Many struggled to break free, but most were too ill to give any resistance and quickly the ship became enmeshed in the glow of the northerner's magic.
I do not remember it but the expulsion of the disease from each afflicted soul came as a joining of colour and pain. On the mid-deck Shalengael weaved his power, high winds arising from each point of the compass, coming together above the Dromannion in a column of rotating air that spun overhead with such force that the ship begun to turn slowly in the water. For a purpose known only to the northerner the vortex remained aloft and then reached down towards the ship itself. From its centre emerged a brilliant blue light that lit up the sea, outlining the ship as clearly as daylight, before descending swiftly below decks.
From every deck came the cries of the sick. In a tumult of rising agonies the tremoring disease flowed from the chest of each affected soul, a sickly orange mist that swirled about each of its victims before being quickly absorbed by the ever-growing power of the blue light. Before any person aboard the ship could move to respond the magic unleashed by Shalengael filled the Dromannion and then winked out. Within the decks and holds of the ship the sick rose from their beds and sleeping places unable to fathom the nature of their deliverance. Those that had been caring for the sick stood in amazement as their charges awoke from their unconsciousness and began to recover their senses. For some however, it was too late. Amongst the many that had been saved from death lay those for who the sudden cure would give no comfort. The rigours of the blue light had proved too much for their frailty. Hundreds had been saved but thirty-six had died and in the confusion and grief Shalengael was blamed.
It is the contention of Lanja Narris that no-one apart from the dwarvendim, Faren or myself knew of Stump's true identity. The violence that followed arose not from an irrational fear of the Gaels but from the grief of so many dead, and of a rumour that spread quickly as to his culpability. It is a sad fact of our humanity that we sometimes allow ourselves to be so easily swayed by our fear of the unknown. Within minutes an armed gang had arisen from the depths of the ship to find the northerner and throw him overboard. Somehow the fact that Shalengael (and from this point onwards I shall refer to him only be that name) had saved them all had been lost in the uncertainty of the moment. It was thankfully a moment of violence short-lived.
Captain Duschet and his Officers were all recovering below when the mob emerged above deck. The ordered discipline of the ship had broken down as soon as the Captain himself had taken ill. I am sure that those involved must have thought it an easy matter to find the northerner and dispatch him quietly overboard. Such was not the case. To greet them upon the mid-deck stood a party of dwarvendim, both men and women. All carried weapons and did not wait for the mob to fully assemble upon the upper deck before attacking them. The melee that followed was both short and decisive. None of the dwarvendim had been lessened by the tremoring and they had committed themselves to ensuring that nothing should happen to Shalengael. In a flurry of clubs and fists the mob was violently suppressed and thrown back down below decks. Until Captain Duschet returned to the wheeldeck the dwarvendim held control of the ship and so it remained until he did.
On this twenty-third day of our becalming the situation above decks remains tense. Many still blame Shalengael for the loss of life, and as a consequence of that animosity the dwarvendim have held the forecastle as a stronghold where the northerner remains under their protection. Nobody has attempted any further harm to the man but the dwarvendim have not faltered in their diligence. It will require considerable negotiation to bring peace back to our ship.
Day One Hundred and twenty-four
Like many of my brethren aboard ship I have not yet been able to return to duty. The effects of the tremoring disease have lingered in those who were worst afflicted and I have been told that it will be at least three days until I will be fit enough to return to my work. The stand-off continues in the forecastle but earnest talks have begun between the Captain and the Maturi Hedj. The dwarvendim are demanding that Shalengael be left to continue the voyage unshackled by the threat of harm but the Captain has not yet agreed to this. He has put forward the stance that he has nothing against the northerner, but such a man cannot be left to freely wander the ship. In his mind he would be unable to vouch for his safety. It is a disagreement that continues.
The weather remains calm, without wind or respite from the monotony of a languid sea. Apart from the obvious presence of the dwarvendim guarding the entrance to the forecastle the ship has returned to a semblance of normalcy. The crew are taking the opportunity given to do repairs to the sails and paint the rigging with tar. The sailmakers have been busy pulling new sailcloth from the aft holds and a hive of industry has sprung up upon the mid-deck as many hands are brought to the task of making the repairs. It is surprising how large some of the sails are, and after the rigours of our journey most need a great deal of attention.
This afternoon I was able to see the Healer Faren. Although I am not yet strong enough to work I have been able to move about the ship and in doing so found the Healer within his quarters. He has been placed under house arrest as a token punishment for withholding his knowledge of the identity of Shalengael, but due to his position takes no notice of the restriction. He is in constant need throughout the ship, by both those who need his care and by his Assistants who need his advice. I was lucky to find him and was able to gain a moment to talk.
For all that has happened he has no doubt we did the right thing. The powers demonstrated by the northerner proved the saving of the ship's complement and to have uncovered him at any earlier time could only have led to the same outcome. The level of his abilities had surprised the Healer however, and he had asked Shalengael soon after the event why he had waited until such a dire situation had been reached. The answer was a hint as to the true power the man was able to wield.
Shalengael had explained that the extent of the power wielded by the Gaels lay proportional to the nature of the problem that needed to be solved. A small problem was met with a small response and that same response could not be used again quickly. If only a few people had been affected then he could have done something without bringing undue attention to himself. Because the disease had spread with such speed he could do nothing but wait until it had afflicted everyone, even if it meant some would have to die. It was only when the disease had taken hold of all who could be infected that he could then use his power to heal all at the one stroke. In his own words he put forward the observation that with the power of the Gaels it is as easy to move a mountain as it is to lift a cup from a table. The only restriction lies in that he cannot do it again quickly.
From my talk with Faren it appears that I have also been censured by the Captain and his Officers. My part in the secrecy of Shalengael's identity has not gone unreported, and I too shall have to take whatever sanction is to be metered to me. At this time I still feel too fatigued to care, but I have little doubt that I will be brought soon enough before the Captain for discipline. It should be an interesting meeting.
Day One hundred and twenty-five
I have spent this day in idle wandering, watching the crew mending the sails and spending some time as the forward watch. Such a task requires little but the diligence to watch the waves before the ship and give cry to any approaching danger. We still have no wind so there is little ahead that can be reported on. The current carries us westwards but it has been noted that the colour of the waters have changed. It is a sign that the sea is becoming shallower and as a precaution regular soundings are being taken to avoid an unwelcome grounding.
Apart from the companionship of the sounding detail I have been able to spend most of this afternoon alone, staring into the wash of the sea and seeing only the occasional sea-bird, or the fleeting sign of a creature moving quietly beneath the surface. Although I must pass the dwarvendim in order to reach the forward watch they have paid me no heed. The forecastle has no entry except through the doors that face the foredeck and I made sure that I gave no cause to earn their attention.
With the lack of wind most of the Fleet has slowly moved closer together and from my position at the bow of the Dromannion I have a clear view of the vessels arrayed on all sides. They stand as a ragged collection of vessels, ships of all size and purpose, crowded with those who chose to leave our distant homes and flee into the uncertainty of the open sea. Like the Dromannion, most have taken the pause in our voyage to do much needed repair, and some have even seen the welcome laying of new paint and the shine of polished metal. It would appear that there have been few idle hands as we have remained captive to the doldrums.
The Equinox remains at the forefront, and although it stands as no more than a speck against the undisturbed line of the horizon, it is the furthest extent of our influence in the world. I have heard nothing from anyone for some time of the lives that we have left behind. It is strange but it seems to me that we have all taken the memories of where we have come from and placed them away in some safe storage, out of sight and out of mind. Our attention instead is focused on the struggles of the day and the promise of a new land in the west. If only the wind would raise itself we could once again get underway.
Day One hundred and twenty-eight
Finally I have been allowed to return to work. At the break of dawn I was awakened by Ahlek and asked to report to the Healer's rooms. There I had to undergo a complete physical check by Faren before being given permission to return to my duties as an Assistant. There is much to do and in a ship divided I have found myself tending the medical needs of those who come for help, and trying to dispel the rumours that still circulate the ship . It is good to be of use once again.
In the mid-afternoon I was called to the Captain's rooms and along with Faren received what I had been fully expecting. Captain Duschet commands his ship with a firm hand, and in the few minutes that we had with him he made sure that we maintained no doubt as to his displeasure on our secrecy regarding Shalengael. Neither of us offered any reasoning for our decision, there was no point. A ship at sea has only one authority and there was nothing we could say that could relieve us of the burden of our actions. As for my part I am to be punished with additional duties. It is my lot that for the next fortnight I am to perform the dogwatch upon the mainmast. This entails four hours per day, at the change of each watch, maintaining vigil from the mainmast crowsnest. It does not seem an oppressive duty but I have had the odd smile from some of the crew as to what it really means. I guess only time will show me what I am in for.
Day One hundred and twenty-nine
Today the wind has returned to breathe life into our ships, and finally we are no longer at the mercy of the currents. From the south-east we have received a hard bluster that has filled our sails and sent us racing for the north-west. It is certainly not before time. For twenty-nine days we have been becalmed and in that time we have drifted many leagues to the west. From our soundings it is apparent that the sea is shallowing and as a consequence we have been forced to track more to the north. As a precaution the Equinox leads the way, testing the waters for the possibility of sandbars and hidden reefs.
Today is also the first day of my duty as a member of the dogwatch. I have learned quickly that it is not a task for which I am suited, and in that knowledge have come to appreciate those who must spend their time high in the sails and shrouds of this ship.
The crowsnest is a wide, fenced platform some fifty-five metres above the mid-deck. Although it appears as a small perch when viewed from the decking it is actually large enough to accommodate four crew without difficulty. It was too my benefit that I found myself assigned to the watch with three other hands, two of which I had previously treated for minor injuries. With their help I was shown how to ascend the mast ladder with safety and how to tether myself correctly once we were in the nest. It was an arduous climb for one such as myself, the ascent taking a good twenty minutes to achieve. What I found upon reaching the platform was both marvellous and gut-wrenching.
Arrayed upon a grey-shaded sea lay the Fleet, all under sail and moving with haste before the wind. Dozens of vessels pitched in the rising waters, sails straining under the force of the bluster. It was a wonderful sight, one that could be taken full advantage of, it not for the sickening and unrelenting movement of the crowsnest itself. I had believed prior to this duty that I had found my sea-legs, but what I had become used to standing upon the decks of the Dromannion could not prepare me for the yawing heave of the mast. Every pitch and roll of the ship below was magnified four-fold upon the nest. Quickly I lost most of what I have eaten in the last two days and fell into a solid sense of unease that I could not shake. With the strengthening of the wind the sickness became worse, and without any hope of leaving my post I resigned myself to the unpredictable thrashing of the platform beneath me.
It was a crewman by the name of Michals who came to my rescue. Out of a fog of desperate unease he handed me a small piece of blackroot. I did not notice it until he held it directly beneath my nose and it took only a small sniff of its pungent fumes to realise that it would quell a stomach heaving as much as the sea below. I took it and stuffed it into my mouth. You cannot swallow blackroot, it is a root best chewed and then discarded, but in a matter of seconds it began to work through the disorientation and nausea, settling my stomach and clearing my head. I cannot say how much I appreciated such a simple gesture of help. At that moment I thought the man had saved my life.
By the end of the dogwatch I had recovered enough to be of some small help to the others sharing my duty. By then the wind had grown into a strong gale, and as we scanned the waters beneath the four quarters of the ship I was able to watch as the crew furled sail, trimming the ship for the gathering weather at our heels. I can report that in my time aloft I have seen Kreel in the north, and the dark line of advancing rainclouds in the east. There is a storm in our wake and it rises swifter than we will be able to run from its cold embrace.
Day One hundred and thirty-three
For four days now storms have buffeted the Fleet, scattering us widely as the gales drive our ships forward into an uncertain sea. We have run before the tempest, driven into the west by rain and the continuous bluster of the storm. The Dromannion rides the waves easily but our way ahead is unsure. The Equinox has not been seen since the storms began and the Captain is loathe to be pushed too much further westwards. The possibility of shallow seas has been met by an extra watch at the bow and what soundings that can be done in such rough weather. It is said that we may have to ride the storm and then wait for the return of the scoutship.
The storm rages but our duties continue, the needs of the Dromannion a constant obligation that cannot be ignored. Below, the decks are a melee of activity and within this throng myself and the other Assistants go about our alloted tasks. There has been no return of the tremoring disease and strangely little else in the way of infection or affliction. Shalengael's magic has quelled more than just the focus of its creation, and for the moment we spend our time attending to the many lesser injuries that arise through either accident or misadventure.
I have been unable to continue with my punishment aloft in the crowsnest. The weather has ensured that this duty will have to wait for finer skies. Before the forecastle there has been no change. The dwarvendim guard the northerner from all who might wish him harm, and as of yet no agreement has been reached as to how this impasse will be resolved.
Day One Hundred and thirty-four
The storm has passed and on the evening of this day the Fleet rides the sea at anchor, awaiting the return of the Equinox. Soundings now show the waters to be dangerously shallow and until the scoutship reports back we are to go no further westwards. I can report however, that there has been a resolution to Shalengael's predicament. In the days that have followed the unveiling of the northerner tempers have cooled and I believe many have come to realise the necessity of what was done, and of the lives he saved. At midday the Captain and his First Officer made for the forecastle and there spoke with the Maturi and those of the dwarvendim who had served as Shalengael's guards. From this meeting it has been decided that the northerner shall be afforded the protection of the Captain, and that four of the dwarvendim will be assigned to Shalengael as personal guards, to discretely watch over him. He will be allowed a full run of the ship but will not be able to return to his duties as a Healer's Assistant. The Captain has determined that a man of such power must be kept close, and to do so has made him an adviser for the remainder of our voyage. Shalengael for his part has agreed to only exercise his power with the permission of the Captain. I am glad to report that with such terms everyone seems happy.
Day One Hundred and Thirty-five
The Equinox has not yet been sighted and because of this we remain at anchor. The sky has turned to a clear vault of blue and only faint wisps of cloud streak the eastern horizon. There have been further sightings of Kreel in the north and, more disturbingly, of a Behemoth moving upon the perimeter of the Fleet. I have spent two watches aloft and can now say that I am beginning to adjust to the exaggerated movement of the crowsnest. In such fine weather the view from the topmast extends to all the horizons and our watch has been busy because of it. The Kreel move constantly in the north, small dark shapes that appear from the east and then are lost in the haze of the horizon. The other crew on my watch have said that they have seen many of the creatures flying to some destination further westwards, and that it does not bode well for our own goal of finding the Midreach.
Of greater immediate threat has been the ominous presence of a Behemoth upon our borders. It was spotted at first light and has been in view for most of the day, nothing but an enormous patch of shadow slipping silently beneath the waters. The ships of the Fleet rest at anchor but the beast has not attacked. It appears to be hindered by the shallow sea and instead has been content to remain out of the range of our ballistas. It does not approach too close to our position and has kept to the east where the water is deeper. It is my hope that the creature will keep its distance.
With the resolution of the conflict between the dwarvendim and the rest of the Dromannion life has returned quickly to its well-practised routine. Shalengael has been given quarters on the wheeldeck near the Captain's, and because of this will be afforded a measure of protection. No-one is allowed access to the wheeldeck unless they are Officers of the Ship or asked to report there. The dwarvendim seem content with the situation and have returned to their duties as well. It is good to see the ship once again without conflict.
Day One Hundred and thirty-six
In the quiet hours of the night I have been visited again with dreams and visions, and this time I am not alone. The break of day has seen a growing murmur through the ship of occurrences in the night and an experience that has been shared by many in the dark hours. The same dream has been reported all over the ship, from the Captain himself down to the lowest rating aboard, and it has caused a stir that has once again settled accusation and fear against the Gael. None can explain why this has happened, but it would appear that only those of us who have been touched by Shalengael's power experienced the vision. For many it has been an experience unlooked for and unwelcome.
Shalengael has kept out of sight but the power of the shared dream has given the Captain cause to have all the Ballistas manned permanently. We all now live with an irrational certainty that there lies ahead a great danger, the clarity and undeniable malevolence of the vision too pressing to ignore. For future reference I will record it here. It will be to the future that we must look to determine whether there is any truth to it.
I went to bed late on the previous evening. As has been the case on so many occasions, an injury above decks had kept me out of my hammock far beyond the striking of midnight. Exhausted I had fallen into my swinging bed and had quickly fallen asleep. It was there that the vision unfolded before me.
Under the expanse of a clear and moonless night the Dromannion sailed effortlessly through a sea as still and as quiet as a pond. No moons rode the heavens and in the silence the stars shone brightly, the barest glimmer reflecting back from the surface of a fathomless sea. Upon its decks I again stood alone, watching as the huge ship moved quietly through the water, navigating a path into the black of the night. Then from the horizon ahead came the first hints of a thunderstorm, a faint flashing of light in the darkness that sent the murmur of distant thunder rolling past the ship. Closer the Dromannion edged towards the storm and as it did so the seas rose up in huge waves that hammered at the sides of the vessel and tore at the untended sails.
Although I knew I was dreaming I was unable to rouse myself. Within the tumult of the rising storm I found myself no longer a spectator somehow apart from what was happening. Within my thoughts I felt myself being compelled to action, running for the wheeldeck and taking control of the helm as the Dromannion battled against the power of the approaching tempest.
Quickly huge spires of stone began to appear at all sides of the ship and again I could feel the presence of malevolent eyes peering down from on high, waiting for a moment to strike out at the ship and bring it crashing into the sea. Desperately I fought for control of the wheel, but before I could turn the ship about huge creatures began descending to the decks, tearing into the Dromannion's timbers and shredding her sails. It was only then that I saw the creatures were Kreel, and that the largest of them had settled upon the mainmast. In the starlight it was a massive shadow, perched halfway up the mast, screeching encouragement to its brethren as they destroyed the ship. In the violence of this attack I could do nothing.
I remember clearly as I sprang awake, a sweat soaking my clothes, that the last thing I saw was the bow of the Dromannion splintering against a tall tower of stone, its timbers breaking and twisting against the solid rock as the ship drove into it. The sound of its demise echoes in my head even as I write this, and for all who have experienced the vision it is something that will not be forgotten.
As a response to the shared nightmare the Captain has determined not to move forward until the Equinox has returned. The writings of Caren'thal the Younger give little information as to what we will be confronted with at the Midreach and Duschet will take no chances on his ship. At this time it is felt that caution is our best defence.
Day One hundred and thirty-eight
At first light this morning the Equinox appeared upon the horizon to the north-west. Most of the morning passed as we waited for it to reach the Dromannion's position, and with her arrival comes news of sand-bars and treacherous waters ahead. From Faren I have heard that the Equinox has spent six days sounding the shoals and trying to find a way through. Of the Midreach Islands the scoutship can report a sighting of land in the north-west and with this news Captain Duschet has issued new directions to the Fleet. We are to sail north until we find deep waters and then veer to the north-west. In that direction we should find the Midreach, and the islands of Clan'dael.
It is to our fortune that a fair wind now blows at our back and with such a breeze we have hauled anchor and now tack to the north, the Dromannion at full sail, the Fleet spread about us as we go. Our goal now lies to the north-west, the Islands of the Midreach our next port of call. I can report that we remain well provisioned, our water supply not yet depleted by the length of our capture within the doldrums. Spirits remain high but we all sense the anticipation of seeing land once again. If what is said about the islands is true we should find a fair harbour, and good lands in which to replenish our stocks of fresh food. Talk is also being made of replacing the lost foremast, but none of us can know what the islands will be able to provide and such comment is mere speculation.
On this day we have had no further sightings of the Kreel, however a Behemoth remains upon our starboard, tracking the Fleet as we turn northwards. It keeps at a distance but the slow undulations of its form upon the surface of the waves marks its position clearly. The Captain has ordered all the ballistas loaded and we remain ready for any attack that may come.
Day One Hundred and thirty-nine
This morning has seen the return of a clouded sky, the wind rising to a brisk bluster that pushes us ever faster to the north. My duties for the moment are complete and I now have the time to rest prior to my watch upon the crowsnest. The punishment handed to me by the Captain had proved onerous to begin with, but within this past week I have found myself looking forward to the time spent aloft. On most watches I am joined by three other crewmembers, most of them men that I have had some contact with over the course of our voyage. Apart from the duties of the watch we spend most of the time in conversation and it has proven an excellent opportunity to discuss all that has happened aboard ship. Those discussions have given me some insight into the rumours and undercurrents that permeate the Dromannion, and I have come to realise that for many people aboard ship the ultimate goals of our voyage are the subject of much argument and disagreement.
It has only been through these discussions that I have discovered that many of our number do not wish to voyage any further than we have to. For myself and most that I work with there is only one objective, the New World and the promise it holds for a new life. But for some of my fellow shipmates the prospect of more months at sea is a torment they do not wish to endure any further. The crowded conditions and the ever-present dangers of the sea have worn down their resolve, and many have said that the first landfall that offers them a chance of survival will be good enough for them.
For me it is a surprising point of view, but I can see why it might be a possibility for some. We have never been a seafaring people and if this is their choice then there is little that could be done about it. I see now why the prospect of the Midreach Islands has been so eagerly received below decks. It will be interesting to see whether the islands meet the expectations of those who might wish to disembark.
The bells have been rung for the dogwatch. There is more that I wish to write but it will have to wait.
Day One Hundred and forty
Today has been a day of violence and death. In the calm of dusk a Behemoth once again attacked the Fleet, using the blinding light of sunset to mask its advance upon our vessels from the west. I cannot say whether it is the same creature that we drove off before, but it attacked with a vengeance and in its wake we have lost two ships and more than eighty souls.
The first sign of trouble came from the forward watch in the hour before dusk. The beast had not been sighted for most of the day but in the waning light the clear black outline of its ridged spine lay unmistakable against the waves to port. For a short time it stood its ground, just out of range of our weapons, before disappearing back into the depths. In the glare of sunset all hands scanned the sea, looking for any further sign of its approach. We did not see it again until it rose from the depths in a surge of water, breaching upwards before crashing back down into the black waters.
The Tarental, a vessel lying at the edge of the Fleet, took the full brunt of the creature's wake, a high wall of water that hit the ship broadside and crushed it as if it was matchwood, throwing it on its back. Immediately ships turned for the scene of the disaster but not before the Behemoth rose again, this time breaching beneath the Arathindas, breaking the cutter's back in an explosion of wood and sail.
Before the Behemoth could hit water once again the Dromannion opened fire with every ballista that could be brought to bear upon it. At our back the Avernell also opened fire and in the tracery of speeding bolts the creature was lit up by detonations that tore pieces from its enormous flanks. Against the ferocity of the attack there was little else that could be done. Or so I thought.
From the forecastle armoury a large device was rolled from behind closed doors and quickly moved to the edge of the foredeck, before being placed into a curious cradle that had been installed unobtrusively almost a week before. The device was a barrel, no bigger than one that could be lifted by a single man, but it was obviously made entirely of black metal and had a small square protuberance upon its upper surface. A fuse hung limp from this square box and without hesitation a crew member lit it and then the entire device was rolled from its cradle over the side of the ship and into the rushing sea.
Orders came fast from the Captain and the Dromannion lurched forward as more sail was loosed to catch a growing wind. Another of the devices was rolled out, lit and then rolled into the water. I had no idea as to what they might be for, but as the second charge fell from its cradle a great explosion lifted the sea behind us, throwing a vast column of water into the air.
To this the Behemoth answered, breaching at our rear, lifting its black and grey form high as its massive bulk turned in the air. In a confusion of churning water it fell back and then rose again closer to the ship. Its intention was clear, it had singled us out as its next victim and in a thrashing charge it raced for the ship. A second explosion followed, and I felt the Dromannion lift beneath my feet from the detonation somewhere in the depths below. As water once again leapt into the air the Captain called for more of the charges and a third barrel fell into the sea. This barrel had a much shorter fuse and detonated only a ship's length behind our fleeting vessel. This explosion keeled the Dromannion sideways, throwing us all to the decks, but this time its effects were lethal. No plume of water rose from its detonation, instead the sea bowed upwards, bubbling and frothing as if the waves themselves were in torment. Out of the depths the Behemoth breached once again but this time it fell sideways, a gaping hole in its side. Mortally wounded it crashed into the waves and then sank slowly out of sight.
Jubilation erupted aboard ship, crew and passengers cheering as the mangled remains of the great creature slipped beneath the surface. I can record here that the Captain himself looked well pleased but the excitement was only momentary. At our rear lay the survivors of two smashed ships and swiftly the Dromannion turned to give assistance.
It took more than an hour to return to the scene of the sinkings. It was dark and by that time the Avernell was within a floating field of debris, illuminated by the lanterns of lifeboats as they searched the flotsam. The Avernell's flags gave us the worst of news. There were no survivors.
Once again we have been visited by tragedy and once more we have no time to grieve for the dead. Innocent men and women have died this day but we cannot wait to give proper rights or reflect on what we have lost. We must continue on.
Day One Hundred and forty-one
The winds that have sped us northwards have now swung into the east and the Fleet pounds against a rising swell, the sea about us a vista of white-capped waves and wind-borne spray. There is weather once again advancing towards us but there are signs that the islands of the Midreach lie somewhere close, just beyond the western horizon. We have found deep water and in that dark water the current now flows to the north, a sure sign that land is near. All over the ship the anticipation of a new landfall is growing. Plans are now in preparation for what we must achieve once we have found safe harbour but this time our expectations are far different from those of Amen'wraith.
Unlike the paradise of Laerion the Midreach Islands hold no restrictions. Whether we will find food and water is unknown, but none of the writings of Caren'thal mention any dangers for which we must be mindful. Of that which is remembered of the adventurer's journey the most important fact lies in the nature of the eastern coastline of all the islands. High cliffs and rocky beaches do not allow a suitable anchorage for a Fleet of our size on the east shoreline. The only harbours are to be found on the western shores of the three largest islands, named by Caren'thal the Younger as Clan'dael. Here it is said we will find sloping lands and gentle plains, edged along the northern borders by mountains and undulating hills. For a people so long at sea such a prospect grips us with its anticipation.
Apart from these facts there is little else known. From the exploration of the shoals by the Equinox it is apparent that shallow seas can be found all the way to the southern edge of the Midreach. To gain the western shoreline of Clan'dael we will need to survey the coast of these rocky outcrops until a way can be found through. Captain Duschet has determined that a scouting party of three ships is to be sent into the west to find the way. The Fleet will move slowly westwards and rendezvous with the scouts upon their return. This job has been given to the Equinox, the Garenmor and the Longreach. With their shallow draughts these ships are best suited for the task, and at midday were sent westwards into the rising bluster.
For my part I look forward to the chance to once again place feet upon dry ground. It seems that we have been aboard ship for so long that it becomes difficult to remember the feeling of a solid footing that does not move beneath you. According to the maps provided by the Maturi Hedj the Midreach is the last chance for restocking and repair prior to setting course for the New World. It is to be an opportunity we shall all take advantage of.
After some research I have found out more regarding the barrel charges that were used so effectively against the Behemoth. Much has been rumoured on their origin but I can record that the devices were the work of our blacksmith, an energetic man by the name of Garren Namawe. He had been asked by the First Officer to consider a weapon that could be used against the sea-creatures, and had used a story he had heard in his youth about fish-poaching as his inspiration. On a smaller scale poachers operating within the lakes and forests of his home had used black-powder devices to stun fish. With the idea in mind he had built the charges to a size that would deter the beasts from following the Fleet.
The fuse proved the most difficult to manufacture but was made possible with the knowledge of the dwarvendim. As slaves to the Haarn there had been need to use powder charges that could be placed in submerged mine shafts and passageways. The same techniques had been used to detonate the barrel charges to such devastating effect against the beast, and recognition of the dwarvendim's involvement has increased their standing aboard ship considerably. Any hard feelings that might have remained from their defence of Shalengael has been pushed aside. Namawe now enjoys a level of respect that I believe he feels uncomfortable with, however it pleases me greatly that the Fleet now has a defence against the Behemoths, and in the fashioning of that defence the Dromannion is once again united.
Although it has been decided that we will not be attempting to find a passage to the west coast of Clan'dael until the return of the scoutships, there is no benefit to be gained by remaining at anchor. The Fleet has been ordered to change course for the Midreach, but in doing so will be remaining a full day behind the scouts. Already most vessels have hauled in sail, and now move westwards at a much reduced pace. It will be left to the skill of the Equinox's captain to find a way beyond the shoals and rocky islands of the Midreach.
Day One Hundred and forty-two
The orderly routine of the ship continues, life aboard an ongoing cycle of work and those few moments of rest that can be obtained between duties. I have found in the last few days that I have spent most of my time with the NomDruse, part of a concerted effort to coax them from the isolation of their Cresh and give them the opportunity to mingle with the rest of the passengers and crew. As has proven the case previously the children remain intransigent, keeping to themselves and refusing to go above decks except for the shortest of times. The Healer Faren has determined that they are in need of fresh air, some sun upon their skin, and not a little exercise. With the help of those that care for them I have been attempting to get the older children to go topside but it has only been with the appearance of Shalengael that we have made any progress.
I found him within the quarters of the NomDruse at the change of the watch this morning. To my surprise he was still dressed in the white robes of a healer, but now made no pretension to hide his true identity. Across the arms and down both sides of his cloak were now displayed a curious array of elaborate lettering sown in blue cotton. I cannot say that I know their purpose, but it did strike me that I recognised some of the symbols from the books that he had taken from the library at Corin'kraag.
When I stepped into the Cresh the northerner was on one knee talking earnestly with some of the older children. It was true that the children had been up on deck on a few occasions but had not done so for some time. All agreed that the NomDruse needed to become an active part of the ship's complement, and to that end Shalengael worked to break down the reticence they seemed to have developed for doing so.
When the northerner saw me he raised himself and extended a hand in greeting. Although I have worked alongside the man for some months in his guise as Stump it was a strange feeling nonetheless to greet him once again after the troubles caused by his uncovering. I spoke with him at some length over the concerns held for the NomDruse children before turning the conversation to himself.
It seems apparent that Shalengael has found himself a place by the side of the Captain and the Maturi Hedj. Of all the men who lead our Fleet to the New World he is the most personally powerful and I can understand why the Captain has decided to keep him close. For his part he seems unconcerned for any personal danger and instead asked questions regarding the well-being of the other Healer's Assistants and if there had been any continuing effects from his cure of the tremoring disease. Such questions I answered truthfully and it was only as our conversation again turned to the children that I thanked him for my own cure. He had after all saved my life as well as the lives of hundreds of other souls on the ship.
To this the tall northerner smiled and raised a finger as if to rebuke me. There was, he said quietly, one matter that he needed to raise with me. And it was something for which he needed to express thanks. It was known to him that myself and Faren had discovered his true identity early in the voyage and he was grateful for the discretion we had shown in keeping it to ourselves. Furthermore he considered that as we had suffered sanctions for that silence he had a debt to repay, and it was to be a payment that would be provided in due course. I can say truthfully that I felt no debt. The man had saved me from the tremoring, but in his mind that was simply a consequence of a much larger action which had not been directed at me personally. He would not say what the repayment might be but I could feel clearly that I was someone he trusted.
After a further period of time with the NomDruse Shalengael left, his four bodyguards close at his heels. His counsel had been well received amongst the children and I can record here that most have spent the afternoon on deck, taking in the air and enjoying the spectacle of a Shurdu game as it played itself out amidships.
Somewhere ahead lies the Midreach. I can smell it on the air.
Day One Hundred and forty-three
Today we have seen Kreel once again in the north and west. Unlike previous sightings the creatures can be seen circling ahead in great flocks, riding the upcurrents as they glide in wide spirals as if searching for something. The Maturi is adamant that the reptiles are not dangerous as long as we do not disturb them, but for those of us who witnessed their malevolence in the ruins of Corin'kraag it is a difficult idea to accept. However, the Captain will take no chances and has maintained the fire-crews at each of the ballistas.
I continue my punishment upon the crowsnest and use the time on watch to talk with those who share the duty with me, and observe the general business of the ship unfold beneath my feet. On this day the dogwatch began in the early evening, and along with my fellow crewmates I settled down for the duration of our duty. In the weakening light we talked, watching as the stars began their slow emergence from the sh | |
