The Gathering Storm - Elsewhere, Book 1

Jofus and Esher lined up with the village boys, each of them holding a long stick and eager to begin training. Once they understood the basics they would switch to blunted swords, they had been told. Both boys had jumped at the chance to join their cousin Tim for training and now walked the two miles from the carnival to Nula’s cottage every morning, where Tim would collect them in his small sail boat and take them across the lake to the village of Ebor. Tim lived by the shore with his parents and two sisters; Rose and Lilly. His father and Esher’s were brothers and the cousins had grown up playing together.

“I’m going to be the best swordsman in Ebor,” boasted sixteen-year old Tim. My father’s already shown me how to handle his own sword. It’s very different from a wooden stick – the weighting’s all wrong.”

“Yes, well I expect they didn’t want us poking holes in each other till we know exactly where to place the wounds,” remarked Jofus sarcastically. At nineteen he was the eldest of the three cousins and eager to show himself to be a man. Indeed, he was older than many of the other boys present, some of the village lads of that age having gone with the army equipped with real, sharpened swords and heading for a very real battle. Jofus felt he had a responsibility to set an example to the younger lads. He hefted his stick and made a few experimental stabs and slashes with it. Esher, aged seventeen but less assertive than his cousin, stepped back to avoid being struck. Tim grinned and squared off against Jofus, striking a combative air. They were about to set to when an intimidating roar resonated across the field.

“Right lads, form a line, quick as you like; no messing about!”

A burly Equiseen wearing a boiled leather jerkin and kirtle strode across the grass. His forearms were encased in metal studded cuffs and he wore the emblem of the Bridge Guard buckled around his impressively large left bicep. The deep frown between his eyebrows did nothing to soften his angular face, and dark eyes as hard as agates scoured the boys as he sized them up in a glance. Suddenly, Esher realised that this was probably going to involve less fun and more work than they had previously imagined.

Across the Manguin villages, similar tableaux were being acted out as the teenaged boys and the younger men who hadn’t been chosen for the squads trained to defend their villages if the need arose. No man over forty was obliged to train, but any were welcome who wished to do their part. Special training sessions had been arranged in the evenings for those men who couldn’t afford to take time away from their day time occupations and these had proved very popular. The feeling among the youngsters was of boyish enthusiasm, inspired by the seeming romance and adventure of a battle in which they would win a rousing defeat over their ancient enemy and save their homes from danger. The older men, who could remember the last battle, had a different perspective on the proceedings. Their determination to protect their homes and families was at least as great, but they had no illusions over the romance of the situation. They knew the swords and arrows of the Meerans would be deadly and their technique far more practiced. It was likely the Meeran numbers would be much greater – having three cities and two dozen villages to recruit from and a standing army besides – so the only advantages they themselves would have would be the magic of the Norns and the barrier of the river. It seemed likely that if the Meerans did attack, a large number of them would not live to see the mid-Turning and each man, though quietly determined it would not be him, made preparations for his family’s future as well as he was able, just in case.

In the Equiseen villages the forges were still churning out swords, shields and arrow heads. The remaining guardsmen patrolled the plains, watching for any sign of a Meeran advance. Taya attended daily lessons with the Elder and spent the rest of her time under her mother’s watchful eye. She was no longer overwhelmed with remorse over her earlier actions; the novelty of such repentant humility had quickly worn off and she was beginning to resent being treated like she was infected with some terrible contagious disease. The other girls steered clear of her, obviously having been warned by their parents not to associate with such a bad influence. ‘It’s so unfair!’ she thought. ‘It was Aysh and Mikkol who betrayed everyone, not me.’ She mulled over the gross injustice she felt had been done to her as she hammered out swords.

Leena Moor and Keera Mayor held an awkward truce. Each was the only one who truly knew what the other was going through, yet each one felt that the other’s child was somehow more responsible for the situation. Both missed the strength they would have drawn from their husbands at such a time and felt terribly alone each night as they struggled to sleep, tormented by the thought that they might never see child or husband again.

In the halls of Theyos Raal and among the Pixie folk who dwelt below them the work was also progressing steadily. Unused rooms in the Elven city were prepared to be used as hospital wards where the healers could treat the injured and among the trees extra huts and tents were erected as fast as Doorsh and Mirren and their helpers could provide the canvas. At the first sign of an invasion there would be a mass evacuation of the Manguin villages across the lake to the comparative safety of the forest. Tilarion was well aware that this would mean over a thousand additional residents on the forest floor and he was determined that they would all be provided for. Having skimmed the cream of their men for the expeditionary force, he felt an extra responsibility for their safety. Although on paper he had only taken around a quarter of their men away, in reality half of those remaining were old men and young boys, not the best able to mount an adequate defence. Tilarion held onto the slim hope that all of these preparations would be unnecessary; that the attack would never come. As hopes went, though, he felt it was a bit like morning mist; it looked substantial enough, but in a short time it would melt away.

Even at the Carnival the ripples of the action were noticeable. Demet’s cookhouse was less crowded at mealtimes and there were no performances under the big tent. Thalaenna spent her time making healing balms and curative draughts. Demet, Louenne, Alishore and Mardeny carried out their usual chores in the cookhouse and on the farm, and also spent extra time in the dairy making butter and cheese. Sacks of grain were ground to flour in preparation for the extra bread that would be needed, and this was as true in the village mills, where much of the produce was shipped out to the forest. Timony and Lucan, along with the six musicians and Lyneera, ploughed extra land and planted late, fast-growing crops. They tended the fields that were already approaching harvest readiness and started picking the early fruit. The steady industry helped to relieve the ache left by their absent friends, but at each day’s end it was only too noticeable that their number was much reduced.

There was another worry too. The day after everyone had left Louenne had looked around at dinner and noticed that Bod was missing. She asked Jofus and Esher whether they had seen him but neither had. Demet went to check the brothers’ cabin but there was no sign of him. At first they assumed he was off sulking somewhere, put out at being left behind, but after a few days with no sign anywhere they realised he must have run away.

“Damn that boy!” Exploded Demet. “We were supposed to be looking after him till his brothers returned. What do I tell them now?”

“I don’t suppose you’ll need to tell them much,” replied Louenne. “”No doubt he’d snuck off with the baggage train and is hiding in the camp, determined to stay with them. He’s a headstrong lad. Once they’re on a ship he’ll show himself and they’ll deal with it. There’s nothing else we can do now.”

“Yes, nothing to do but worry that a lad I love like my own sons is heading into a deadly battle and going to face untold danger. Nothing but that. How did things become so mad, Lou? It’s like the realm is turned upside down. We were peaceful, carefree; it was idyllic. And now there’s trees dying, sprites dying, snow killing people in the north we never knew existed, monsters torturing slaves, Meeran spies and nearly all out war! It’s madness, Lou. Nothing makes sense.”

Louenne took his hand and placed it on her ever growing belly, where the baby was kicking determinedly.

“This makes sense. Our boys, our baby, our farm, our cookhouse.”

There was a measured banging noise from the room above, as a cane was thumped onto the floor with each step.

“And your mother,” added Demet. “You’d better go see what she needs.”

Louenne smiled, then held him close and kissed him before heading up the stairs.

Chief Intelligence Minister Nedrin was at the epicentre of a whirlwind of frenetic activity in Lytos Meer and the surrounding districts. He had been successful in convincing the King that the Southerners were planning for war and manoeuvring an army to attack and besiege the city from the east. Consequently the villages in that direction had been evacuated into the city and the east defences were being reinforced with a ditch and spiked palisade. Riders had been sent to Meer-Armen and Meer-Atten to begin conscripting and training additional troops for the army, which in peace time was divided into three branches; the city watch, the excise men and the King’s guards. Since some of these men would be required to remain in each city on their regular duties, many additional soldiers would need to be specially recruited. In every city the factory districts were buzzing with the production of military uniforms, weapons, mess kits, tents and the hundreds of other supplies a moving army would need. Most of the squads in Lytos Meer would remain in that city to repel the eastern attack Nedrin was sure was coming. The Southerners were just waiting for them all to fall for the baited trap of the undefended forest and march away from the city, then they would pounce.

That wretched Pixie had confessed it all, in the end. It had taken a lot of work though, getting her to tell him all the facts he suspected. He had done it himself, after that disappointment Dernish had quit. He hadn’t enjoyed it of course. Inflicting pain on any creature wasn’t something a civilised man took pleasure in, but he prided himself on always doing his job to the very best of his abilities. He had to admit to a certain grudging respect for the creature. She hadn’t broken at the first lick of pain; had just kept repeating the same tired stories she had told Dernish to begin with. In the end he had had to tell her all the things he suspected before she would admit to the truth of them. He supposed she felt less guilty telling him it was true, once she was aware he already more or less knew. Even so, she had been quite broken by that point, both physically and mentally, the smell of her fear permeating the small basement chamber. It had been a kindness, to end the pain for her. She would never have moved on her own again, not with her limbs all pulled out of joint by the rack. He had made it quick; a clean slice across the neck, as he would for a deer when hunting, as any gentleman would. She had looked at him with such venom though, such indignant disbelief, when he cradled her head and put the blade to her throat. Almost as if she didn’t know he was showing her mercy. The deer had only ever looked slightly grateful and a bit sad. Had to be done of course, the whole nasty business. Had to know what they were really planning.

The King had commended him for his dedication. It was being mooted about in higher circles that he might even get a title out of this campaign. His wife would like that. Bit of a social climber, was Floriis. He smiled indulgently, thinking of her, then turned back to his work. So many lists, so much to organise. The extra conscripts from Lytos Theen and Lytos Dar had to be trained to at least look like an army, so they could be seen to march south to trick the Southerners. The wagon train carrying food, water and other supplies had to be arranged. The city engineers were working on a special project for him; a distance weapon, much bigger than an ordinary catapult. And of course the regular troops and conscripts from everywhere would all need weeks of extra training.

King Victor had been licking his lips at the thought of regaining the Falls Gate and once the attacking army had been vanquished they would all march south and sweep through the forest like a scythe through a field of wheat. The court had been on its mid-Turn progress to the great houses of Meer-Armen and Meer-Atten, but when news had arrived of this campaign he had sent word that he, King Victor, would travel south to see the Gate for himself when word reached them that they had won. Nedrin beamed at the thought of the glories to come. He stared into the middle distance, clutching one of his lists, a tiny rivulet of saliva dripping from his lower lip onto the desk.

Around four days travel from Lake Lomoohr a stream ran in from the west and joined the river they were following. It wasn’t very wide or deep and was easily forded, but as it was already late afternoon and their legs were frozen after wading through the chilled water, they decided to make camp there for the night. They took up their usual chores as a matter of course and soon they were tucking into bowls of delicious rabbit stew. Aysh sat beside Mikkol, watching him as he ate quietly and wondering whether she should say something. He had been growing progressively more subdued for several days and she was afraid he was wishing he was with their fathers. He noticed her eyes resting on him and turned to face her.

“What is it? Do I have gravy on my chin?” he asked. He sounded the same as always and smiled as he spoke, but Aysh wasn’t convinced.

“Are you happy? Are you regretting what we did?”

“Of course not,” he replied automatically. “Why do you ask that? Are you? I suppose you wish you had your mother to share all this baby stuff with.”

“No. I mean, yes I wish I could tell my mother about the baby, but no I don’t regret leaving. Do you wish you were with your father?”

“Kind of,” Mikkol admitted, wanting to be completely honest with Aysh, who was after all both his wife and his best friend. He regretted it immediately.

“Do you?” she asked, tears springing to her eyes. “You wish we hadn’t left and you’d gone with the army? You resent me dragging you out here don’t you?!” She really hadn’t intended to cry or shout, remembering Nula’s advice to be supportive, but the words seem to tumble from her mouth unbidden. She stared at Mikkol with tear-wet cheeks, wanting to apologise and feel him hold her close, but also wanting him to make the first move in denying any resentment. Mikkol stared back, caught off guard by the accusation. He bristled, feeling that his efforts at open, honest communication were being rebuffed.

“Yes, a bit, if you want to know,” he retorted. He dumped his bowl on the ground and stood, looking down at her.

“I just thought we’d be able to talk about it reasonably, like two people who love each other, instead of arguing like children.”

He turned and walked away. Aysh sat staring after him, guiltily aware of the awkward glanced the others were throwing her way. Nula came over and put her arm round Aysh’s shoulders.

“Never mind. Just give him a little time to calm down, then go and apologise. It’ll be alright.”

Aysh sniffed and nodded. “You told me so, right? Not to act petulantly?”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. We all let our feeling get the better of us now and again. And you have all the extra emotional upset the baby causes too. He’ll understand. Tell him you love him and understand how he’s feeling and not to feel he can’t talk to you about it. Promise you won’t fly off the handle again.”

“Okay. Thanks, Nula.”

Across the fire, Fron turned to Hanble.

“Ah, young love!” he smirked.

“Fron, they’re the same age as us,” replied Hanble.

“Yeah, well, I’m just saying, the course of true love never did run smooth.”

“Very poetic. Where’d you learn that?”

“Emerden taught me. It’s in a book he got in the mortal realm. It’s good.”

Hanble regarded his brother sceptically; Fron had never been much for book learning and he was genuinely surprised to hear him quoting from a mortal poetry book.

“Did you actually read the whole book?” he asked.

“Well, no, not the whole book. It was very long,” said Fron defensively. “Emerden told me how it goes though. That man sure can spin a story.”

“Hmmph. Should’ve known,” remarked Hanble.

Jonor watched the two brothers continue to bicker for a while then turned to Emerden.

“Was it really necessary to bring them?” he asked, but his jovial tone revealed that he didn’t really mean it.

“It’s brotherly love, man,” replied Emerden. “You never had a brother, so you don’t really understand it, but they bicker instead of actually admitting they love each other. It’s not so bad.”

“You don’t have to share a tent with them,” observed Jonor.

“No, I don’t,” grinned Emerden agreeably.

“Shut up and drink your whisky,” snapped Jonor.

Nula stopped behind them with a stack of dishes. “Yes. Absolutely. You totally nailed it.”

“What?” asked Jonor and Emerden together.

“The constant bickering to avoid saying ‘I love you’ thing. Brothers appear not to have a monopoly on that,” she observed sagely, then walked away.

Emerden and Jonor exchanged a sheepish glance then went back to sipping their whisky, staring determinedly at the campfire.

Across the way Kerise yawned and rubbed her eyes.

“Go to bed,” suggested Soorah.

“But it’s warm by the fire. The tent will be so cold. It’s been chilly the last couple of nights. Is it always this cold this far north Reem?”

“We’re not really that far north, you know. And no, it’s not usually cold before mid Turning, even in the Far Plains. Only up in the mountains. It’s strange,” said the fire-haired Pixie.

“Maybe the weather is being affected on this side of the Chasm too,” reasoned Kerise.

“I suppose. We can ask Raya. We’ll be there soon. You know, I think I’ll go to bed too. At least with three in the tent it isn’t too cold. That’s an advantage over the ones that only have two sharing.”

“Really?” asked Kerise, raising one eyebrow. “You don’t think they have better ways of keeping warm than we do?”

“Ew! Please. At least we have the snorer in our tent. That’s an advantage.”

“How. On earth. Do you work that out?” asked Soorah. “I’d rather she was very far away, on the other side of camp – with the horses, preferably.”

“No, no, it’s much better to have the snorer in your own tent. Then you can poke them in the ribs when they wake you up!” giggled Reem.

“I do not snore!” argued Kerise. “And stop poking me – it hurts!”

“Stop snoring and I won’t need to poke you. You sound like a congested buffalo. There must be some sort of magic spell to stop it.”

Kerise stuck her tongue out at the other girls and went to help Nula with the dishes.

“That whole bickering thing’s working for you girls too, then,” observed Nula.

Kerise blushed and smiled. “Yes, they are becoming good friends. I spent so much time studying before, I mainly knew other Elves. It’s so nice to be out in the realm, getting to know new people.”

“Yes, trying to figure out what’s killing the realm before all the trees die or we all freeze to death makes for an excellent vacation,” supplied Nula conversationally.

“Um, yes, that too,” murmured Kerise, embarrassed.

Nula laughed. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. It’s been nice getting to know you too.”

“Thanks. Nula?”

“Yes dear?”

“Do I really snore?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Oh. Maybe I should try a spell on that.”

“Careful before you use magic on your nose. I heard what happened with your plants.”

“Nula! That was decades ago!” flushed Kerise.

Nula laughed again and handed her a towel.

It wasn’t long before they all turned in. The fire was reduced to embers and the night air had become unseasonably cold, so they all sought their blankets early. Besides, the long days of walking were tiring them all out.

The following morning Nula woke early due to a call of nature. She crawled from her blankets, shivering, and opened the tent flap, rubbing her bleary eyes, when she became aware of a distinct change to the landscape.

“Emerden!” she called, alarmed. “Look! Something’s happened overnight.”

Everything was white and glistening. The dawn light sparkled from every leaf, blade of grass and spider web. It looked as though someone had painted the landscape silver-white. Emerden joined her at the tent flap.

“Oh no,” he breathed.

“What is it Em? Is it bad?”

“That, Nula, is a frost.”

The others were quickly roused and they too gawped at the chilling beauty around them. Those who had been through the Falls Gate had seen a frost before, but never in the realm. Reem too, though she had travelled high in the mountains with her mother, had only seen frost a couple of times.

“We never went up in the mountains in the cold season, she explained. “It’s never frosted this low down or this far south before. I saw it once in the very early morning in the Ennas-Bor, but it was gone as soon as the sun rose. The desert gets pretty cold at night.”

Nula shivered. “I think it’s time to unpack those furs the Haraquin gave us,” she said. “I didn’t think we’d need them so soon.”

Emerden agreed. “We should only need them at night and in the early morning. By the time the day warms up, the frost will all go.”

So they wrapped themselves in furs and set off again after a quick breakfast. Their breath condensed in the air as they followed the river north and they all hoped Raya would soon give them some answers.

Vineder was looking over the bow rail at the seemingly endless sea when he noticed a small movement from the corner of his eye. The lid of a crate was lifting to his left and he could see a pair of bright eyes catching the sun in the darkness. Nonchalantly he stretched his arms, then in two quick strides he crossed the deck and wrenched off the lid, revealing a skinny, unkempt looking boy sitting on a blanket amid scraps of food. The startled boy blinked in the sudden glare of sunlight and raised his hands in front of his face.

“Please don’t send me home!” he begged.

Vineder was nonplussed. “I’m not sure how we would. We’re two days out at sea. I wouldn’t recommend rowing. I know from experience how hard that is. You’re Bod, aren’t you? Jaquor’s brother? So, I guess you didn’t want to be left behind all alone and decided to sneak along.”

Bod looked sheepish. “They never would have allowed me to come if I’d asked,” he said defensively.

“Did you ever think there might be a good reason for that?” asked Vineder. “Where we’re going is pretty dangerous, you know.”

“I’m old enough!” protested Bod. “I can help. I could do something.”

“Handy with a sword, are you?”

“No, but neither’s Jaquor and he came.”

“He had a very particular part to play, which he did at great risk and cost to himself and the others who went with him. They nearly didn’t make it back.” Vineder’s tone was gentle and unaccusing, but Bod still looked guilty.

“I know. I heard the kitchen hands talking. I was hiding in one of the wagons. Are you going to tell Jaquor I’m here?”

“I think you already know the answer to that. He’s your brother; I have to tell him. It’ll be alright. Like I said, not much we can do now.”

“I guess. He’ll be mad though.”

While they were talking a shadow had fallen across the deck as the sun passed behind a cloud. Looking up, Vineder realised that the band of grey cloud which had been moving in from the north had been carried overhead far quicker than he had expected. The wind which the Norns had supplied to start them off had not even been necessary after the first day, as a natural wind had whipped up to replace it. They had been quartering this blustery force in order to head west and were making good time. Now, though, the cloud bank was looking ominously dark and the wind began to tear at their clothes and the sails.

“Let’s go below and find your brother and make sure the captain knows there’s a storm coming,” suggested Vineder.

“A storm like with lightning and thunder?” asked Bod, sounding excited.

“You’re familiar with the concept then.”

“They happen in the rainy season, once or twice. It’s much too early now. Or is it that we’re further north?”

“We’re not that far north,” argued Vineder. “I’d say this is unusual.”

They headed below deck and Vineder led the way to Jaquor and Eliish’s small cabin. It held a bed only just big enough for two, a small table and a trunk for luggage. Jaquor answered Vineder’s knock and was more than slightly surprised to see his little brother standing beside the stocky Northman.

“Bod?! What in the realm.... how did you even... what are you doing here?”

Eliish also exclaimed in surprise and pushed past Jaquor to hug Bod, much to his bemusement.

“Bod! It’s so good to see you. It’s like a little piece of home turning up out of the blue.”

Bod’s face had turned a fierce pink, which was due in equal parts to being held to the bosom of his brother’s partner and the fact that Eliish was squeezing him so hard he couldn’t breathe. Jaquor firmly undid her grasp and held Bod at arm’s length, but turned to Eliish to ask “What am I, salt fish?”

“You know what I mean,” she dismissed him. “I see you all the time.”

“Hmmph. Well Bod? What’s this all about? You’re supposed to be staying with Demet and Louenne. They’ll be frantic with worry.”

“Sorry,” said Bod. “I just couldn’t bear to be left behind like a little kid while you all went off on a big adventure.”

“A big, dangerous adventure,” corrected Jaquor. “And you are a kid,” he added, crossly. “How can I keep you safe during the battle? It’s my job to keep you in one piece and teach you how to be a man. It’s the least I owe our father. How can I do that if some Raquin tears you to pieces while my back is turned?”

“I didn’t think – I’m sorry!” shouted Bod. “But aren’t you at all glad to see me? Didn’t you miss me?” Repentance and anger fought behind Bod’s twelve year old eyes as he tried not to let tears well up in front of the brother he adored. A similar scene was jogged from Jaquor’s memory as he remembered finding Fron hiding in the wagon on a trip through the Falls Gate around four years previously, before Fron had officially started accompanying the travellers. His eyes had looked just the same; fiercely defiant, yet desperate not to be a disappointment. Jaquor relented and hugged Bod almost as tightly as Eliish had done.

“Of course I’ve missed you; every day. But I was comforted thinking of you safe at home. Now you’re here you have to do exactly as I say, alright?”

“Sure thing, no problem, you’re the boss,” agreed Bod emphatically, breaking free to cartwheel the length of the corridor in exultation.

“Rule one – no acrobatics below decks,” sighed Jaquor, but he was drowned out by a sudden, loud rumble of thunder from overhead,

“What was that?” exclaimed Eliish.

“There’s a big storm coming in,” explained Vineder. I was going to tell Captain Malden once I reunited you with your brother.”

“It’s alright; I already know,” the deep, smooth voice of the dark skinned pirate resonated behind them. I was on my way up on deck to look. How bad, do you think?”

Vineder frowned. “The cloud bank is wide and dark and the wind was already picking up when I came below. I’d drop sail and anchor and ride it out.”

“No. If it’s going to be big I can’t risk the sea anchor. We could be capsized. We’ll have to risk going off course. We’re still a full day from the sucking sea, so there shouldn’t be any danger of ending up near coastal rocks. Stay in your cabins and try not to be scared. The Ennas-Star has come through many storms before.”

Just then a loud, thudding noise started to beat the deck boards repeatedly in a sharp, staccato rhythm. Malden looked startled; he turned and ran to the deck stair.

“Stay here,” Jaquor cautioned Bod and Eliish as he and Vineder raced after the captain. Opening the door to the deck they were shocked to see hard, white chunks of ice the size of gooseberries mixing with the rain and crashing down with devastating force all over the deck.

“What are those?” exclaimed Malden.

“Hail stones!” shouted Vineder over the now roaring gale. “The worst storms we had back home had these. Careful; they can be deadly.”

Men cried out in pain as the jagged stones hit them, bruising their flesh and even drawing blood.

“I have to help my men!” replied Malden, pressing his hat to his head and running out onto the deck. He was immediately assaulted by several of the frozen rocks and grunted at the impacts on his body. The men had been working rapidly to bring down the sails and make everything fast, ordered to do so by Adajznia when she saw the storm approaching. When the hail had started falling each man had run for the nearest cover as quickly as he could. A bright flash of lightening lit up the sky, cutting its branches through the black clouds. Immediately afterwards a long, loud crash of thunder which seemed deafening to those still above deck tore through the air. Malden ran about, shouting at the sailors to get below decks and ushering them towards the door to the stairs. Many were injured as they ran for safety, blood staining their shirts and running down their faces. One man, who had unfortunately looked up when the shower had started, had taken a direct hit to the eye. He was helped to the door by a mate, blood and gore dripping from between his fingers as he tried to cover the wound. As the last crewman ran towards Malden he shouted, “Sir, Dajz!”

He was pointing up towards the mast and Malden risked glancing upwards, despite the evident foolishness of such an action. He tried to shield his face with his hands as he peered at the rigging.

Adajznia had been in the crow’s nest when the storm had hit and had immediately begun seeing to the highest sails. When the hail had started she began climbing down, but had been hit in the arm. Her shirt sleeve was soaked with blood as she hung on to a rope, edging her way down with one hand and trying to maintain her footing on the now wet wood as she took further blows to her legs and body. Her face was creased in a grimace of pain. She was still several metres up when another stone hit her good hand and she lost her grip. Vineder had run out to help and was closer than Malden as she plummeted to the deck. He ran to the spot she was falling towards and broke her fall, catching her tightly in his arms. The impact brought him to his knees but his struggled to his feet again, hugging her tightly to his chest, and ran back to the door and Jaquor. Malden brought up the rear and they piled through the door and down the stairs, Malden battening it shut behind them.

“How is she?” he called as they headed towards the galley.

“I’m fine, Captain,” she assured him. “Just a few cuts and bruises.”

But she sounded woozy and when she struggled to make Vineder put her down she was very unsteady on her feet.

“Thank you; I think you might have saved my life,” she slurred, and promptly fainted. Vineder caught her again and turned to Malden.

“She’s lost quite a lot of blood. She needs a healer, fast.”

“We don’t have anyone like that on board,” fretted Malden.

“Yes, you do, sir,” Jaquor corrected him. “The Norns are all proficient healers. Take her to the galley and have all the other injured congregate there too. I’ll fetch Perissa and Sylestra to tend to their wounds.

Malden nodded and Jaquor and Vineder headed toward the communal kitchen-cum-dining room, Adajznia’s blood soaking both her own clothes and Vineder’s.

Malden looked out of a port hole at the mounting grey waves and listened to the pounding hail, murmuring a prayer to whatever gods might be listening and inclined to intercede on their behalf.

The ship heeled and listed to alarming degrees as the wind tore at the half-fasted rigging. Not too far away the Seabird fared no better as the seemingly demented sea did its best to capsize them all. Huddled below decks the crew and passengers were tossed about like children’s toys as were any items not fastened to the floor. The ships crested waves higher than ten men and plummeted down the other side as the angry skies threw devilish forks of lightening at them and rumbled their discontent. Vineder had been thrown off balance as he carried Dajz into the galley, crashing into a large table before he hit the floor. His last thought before he lost consciousness was to hope that they would all see daylight in one piece.