The ship that would carry him across the Sea of Gold and into the foreign lands of Tourmalia. Arthan Dake was loath to leave his home country, but what could he do? They found him the nobleman's silver and jewels in his pouches. The breeze of the sea made his long brown hair bat against his cheeks.
A man with a large, floppy hat, its brim covering his eyes, sang quietly to himself as he strode by:654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBpuu3oagP8
Beyond and under, the living stone did lay.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW2WciBrgof
Beneath dark waves, it sleeps for the day.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtxTPsaIM2A
I should have been more careful, brooded the thief, trusting that servant was a mistake. He rubbed the branded flesh on his forearm: the letter "E" that marked him for an exile. Though, as he recalled, the "E" stood for some other word in the old tongue. But it all meant the same thing. Whatever the word meant, he would still be here in this strange port town he's never been to before.
The was an ugly and worn-out thing: once painted white, but the color had faded to reveal the old black wood beneath. The ship's figurehead was an elderly knight, holding its wooden sword bravely ahead.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwRIJd2yYjS
The ship docked and he headed on board. Three others were like him, outlaws bound for an adventure across the sea. One of them was shivering as if he was naked in the ice, yet it was the middle of spring. As he got on, he heard a man arguing with his wife. She tugged at his sleeve as their little daughter tugged at his pant leg.
"Please, my love," the woman pleaded, "not tonight. Any other night, but not tonight."
The daughter's appeals were the same.
"Unhand me, woman," the man said as he tugged his sleeve from his spouse's grasp, "I've had enough of your superstitions. You've even poisoned our Leona's mind." He got down on a knee. "Leona," he began to say to his daughter, "I'll be fine, there's nothing to be afraid of." He mussed up her hair, smiled, and kissed her on the forehead.
Both wife and child were not soothed by his words, however. One of the crew members of the ship upended a cup of ale into his mouth and snorted at the family's exchange.
"So the moon doesn't rise tonight," he said to another crew member, "I've been at sea in worse times."
The captain seemed to be more cautious than his crew, however. He spoke with a young priest. He was about Arthan's age; somewhere around twenty, to be sure. The priest was reluctant to get on board, but he would not shirk his faith and duty as a holy man.
Arthan approached the priest, intending to ask him what the townsfolk were worried about.
"Pardon me, holy man," he began, the priest jumping at his voice, "but is there something amiss about tonight?"
"No," the young priest said, trying to hide the fear in his voice, "Of course, there is not. It would be an offense to the gods above to believe such mythical terrors."
"Terrors?" Arthan asked as the fear of the town began to bleed into him, "What do you—"
A splash interrupted him, and, looking over the side of the ship the shivering man swam in the water. Had he fallen overboard? Arthan thought. The man was shouting. A crowd of people had gathered by the dock to see what the trouble was.
"Please, don't make me go!" The man screamed as seawater splashed on his face as he made for the dock's ladder. "Hold me in a cell, just for one night. Have mercy!"
But the town guards only dragged him out of the water to toss him back on board, wet and dripping.
"You try that again," a guard with grizzled hair threatened, "It's the noose for you."
The father looked back down at his family on the dock, and just a small amount of regret and anxiousness played on his face.
Before Arthan could finish his question, the priest was called by the captain.
"My apologies," the holy man started, "but it seems Captain Elmerston needs me to bless the ship."
With that, he shuffled away, the long sky-blue robe and the rope belt dragging on the ship's floor.
From behind, the drinking crew member wrapped a muscular arm around him, his drunkenness apparent in the way he swayed and almost pulled Arthan off his feet.
"The Noyah-yan," the crewmember said quite loudly to him, though their faces were within whispering distance, "don't be frightened, exile. It's just something to scare the children into behaving themselves. We'll get you to your new home, safe and in one piece." He slapped him on the back playfully and went off singing. The tune sounded like the one the passerby sang:
When the moon is gone, it, too, must sleep.
Noyah-yan, Noyah-yan, it comes to reap.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFsAE8sJbBc
The Noyah-yan, Arthan mused. He had never heard of such a thing. Yet he was not much of a firm believer in monsters and magic. Skin-eaters, red-eyed crowmen, and bear-apes were just some of the few things his older brother and his friends would frighten him with when he was little. He was no longer a child, so why should he be afraid?
The last of the sun had set, and the darkness had swallowed the sea. The moon did not rise, and the star did nothing to light the darkest corners of the ship. Arthan was exhausted, so made his way below the decks. There was a cabin where the other exiles were, and he chose one of the few cots in the dimly lit room.
One of the exiles slept heavily and snored loudly, but before he could close his eyes for even a minute, a call from above made his eyes snap open.
Almost everyone rushed to the deck to see what the cry was about. About a stone's throw away, a black figure, round and great, swam towards them, the surface of the black water swashing and parting before it. It was a little less than half the size of the ship.
The priest began to chant in the old tongue, the drunken crewman seemed to sober up, and the shivering diver muttered curses on his luck.
"So the legend is true ... " mumbled one of the crewmen.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQCwIgX9mNm
Along with gods, the ship also armed themselves with earthly protection. The captain shouted an order and a few hired guards took aim with crossbows and long guns and fired at the shape in the water.
The sound it made was akin to a squealing pig and a mooing cow as it got hit. The roar it made afterward was noise beyond any natural noise Arthan could not compare it to.
Countless slippery, yellowish tubes slithered over the rails, their ends opened, revealing maws like lampreys. Black smoke spewed from their throats and the passengers drew them together as the flowing blackness circled them.
"What's happening?" Arthan asked the shivering man, "what is that?"
But the man was lost in his terror and deaf to his words, whispering the lyrics of the song as he clutched himself:
Seasoned in brine, blue, and cold.
He gladly feasts on young and old.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvj3IluknBL
Through the living shadow, something moved into the torchlight. It was a woman, young, fair, beautiful, and naked as the day she was born. She smiled at one of the crewmen; the drinker.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCkN6Ha2xhF
She giggled as she lured him in with a finger. The drinker stumbled towards her. How did, or when, did she get on board? Arthan thought.
"No!" shouted the priest, "Do not be misled! It is the trickery of demons!"
But the crewman was either too foolish, hard of hearing or accepting of his fate. The woman embraced him and the smoke offered them privacy.
A man's scream, muffled as if something seemed to cover his mouth, broke through the darkness. They heard a splash and heard no more from the man. The guards finished reloading, they fired uselessly into the pall. All they heard was the wood splinter, in the distance.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO2LpxMR9s3
The captain yelled a curse, drew his sword and swung at the darkness.
"It got me!" he alerted.
One cut severed one of the sea snakes, it's head squirming on the deck, blue blood seeping from it's wound.
Suddenly, Arthan felt something touch his arm. He jolted and spun and saw a familiar face.
"Rosalin," he said softly, "My sweet, sweet, Rosalin ... "
She did not speak, yet his wife, who he knew died a year ago, was on here. His senses left him as he stared into those amber eyes he missed so much. In the corner of his mind, the priest's words echoed: ...trickery of demons! Yet he could not bring himself to care. I just want to hold her, Arthan thought, please, let me hold her.
The priest shouted something at him and as if his chant was answered by the good gods above, a chilling wind not only sent him back into the world but also drew back the smoke for a second, revealing what he truly wrapped in his arms: a mass of shifting tubes shaped like a woman, slimy like nightcrawlers.
One of the snakes sucked at his cheek. Arthan screamed and shoved the imitator to the deck. The man, who Arthan knew as the father of the family at the dock, leaped in front of Arthan and hacked at his attacker with an ax.
"Are you alright?" He said to Arthan.
Before he could respond, a crewmember yanked him towards the cabin door.
"Fall back!" some voice shouted, "Below the deck!"
Arthan needed no convincing, seeing the smoke thicken and the tendrils rising above, dancing in the starlight. They rushed inside as the light from the torches went out, choked by the dark cloud.
With barrels, crates, and other heavy wooden things, they blocked the door as fast as they could. The beating on the door sounded like hard hail. Arthan imagined the worms slamming themselves against the wood.
We're safe, Arthan made himself believe, we're safe, we're safe...
The captain cleaned the blue blood from his sword, the priest beseeched the gods for strength and the shivering man continued to sing to himself:
When the sun does rise, all is well.
Yes, return, must he, to his own drowned hell.654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXNJ1b0rUQR
654Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTxj4J8SthQ
