Please do write more!The storm
“You have to go, now!”
Silence.
“For Ea’s sake, woman, they will be here any moment! You have to go!”
A whisper, overshadowed by pain drowning out meaning of the words themselves.
“They already took it all.”
A moment of pacing, the fall of the boots a mix of anger and exasperation, underlined by uncertainty.
“No, they are coming to do it now. If not for yourself, at least do it for the child.”
Whispering, at the edge of hearing, too faint to make out the words. Footsteps approaching the door, the familiar soft creaking of hinges, and a wedge of the opening door revealing the collapsed pile of burning wood in the fireplace beyond.
She screams.
It took a moment for the primordial fear to dissipate enough for her to dispel the vision of the dancing flames. She heard a shout from above, muted by the mass of timber between her and the crier. There was no mistaking the joyful tone of it, however. Given the state of the ship, there could have been only one reason for such delight.
The sun was baking the deck sufficiently to cause majority of the crew to shed their shirts, its assault all the more insistent by the lack of clouds to bring even a temporary respite. She adjusted the folds of her loose shirt, making a note to be careful around several of the crew that paused to stare at the momentarily rounded shapes of clothing draping about her body.
A man was leaning from the makeshift crow’s nest, pointing ahead after a shouted inquiry from below. She squinted in the direction, seeing nothing but the, fortunately, relatively calm waters stretching to the horizon’s edge.
“Almost there, miss. Looks like we are about to hit land, and there’s not many islands to the east of Cuhanna, either.”
She smiled at the solidly built man approaching her, the last of the dream dispelled by the combination of sunny weather and the aura of confidence so effortlessly displayed by the Prancing Lamb’s captain.
“I can’t say I see anything there.”
A large finger extended toward the solitary figure high into the rigging, gesturing excitedly at the crew below.
“Which is why we have a man all the way up there, miss. Besides… look.”
He turned toward the ship’s stern. It took her a moment to realize what to look for.
“Birds?”
“Seagulls, miss. They have been with us since morning.”
Her look, directed at the captain, was enough to state the unvoiced question.
“We are close enough to land for them to be here. Also, they learned that they might find something edible in our wake. Meaning, at least some ships pass through here, and except for the foolish and well financed, losing sight of land is a bad thing. So much easier to navigate, and you can always hope for a shelter in case of a gathering storm.
He squinted, his features seeming to solidify as the man studied the horizon.
"Such as the one over there. They come in quite fast hereabouts.”
He walked away, issuing orders to the crew and leaving her to study the darkened clouds seeping into the sky from the north. She shivered at the first cold gust, as much from the sudden change of temperature as the implications of what it was bringing to the crippled vessel.
The ragged edges of the clouds were like the dark wings of a chaotic flock of ravens,
voraciously devouring the indistinctive shapes hanging overhead. As they passed through the city's gate, the air filled with the sickly stench of burned meat that seemed to tear at her mind as if a carrion bird itself, until her sentience was wholy devoured.
Silence.
“For Ea’s sake, woman, they will be here any moment! You have to go!”
A whisper, overshadowed by pain drowning out meaning of the words themselves.
“They already took it all.”
A moment of pacing, the fall of the boots a mix of anger and exasperation, underlined by uncertainty.
“No, they are coming to do it now. If not for yourself, at least do it for the child.”
Whispering, at the edge of hearing, too faint to make out the words. Footsteps approaching the door, the familiar soft creaking of hinges, and a wedge of the opening door revealing the collapsed pile of burning wood in the fireplace beyond.
She screams.
It took a moment for the primordial fear to dissipate enough for her to dispel the vision of the dancing flames. She heard a shout from above, muted by the mass of timber between her and the crier. There was no mistaking the joyful tone of it, however. Given the state of the ship, there could have been only one reason for such delight.
The sun was baking the deck sufficiently to cause majority of the crew to shed their shirts, its assault all the more insistent by the lack of clouds to bring even a temporary respite. She adjusted the folds of her loose shirt, making a note to be careful around several of the crew that paused to stare at the momentarily rounded shapes of clothing draping about her body.
A man was leaning from the makeshift crow’s nest, pointing ahead after a shouted inquiry from below. She squinted in the direction, seeing nothing but the, fortunately, relatively calm waters stretching to the horizon’s edge.
“Almost there, miss. Looks like we are about to hit land, and there’s not many islands to the east of Cuhanna, either.”
She smiled at the solidly built man approaching her, the last of the dream dispelled by the combination of sunny weather and the aura of confidence so effortlessly displayed by the Prancing Lamb’s captain.
“I can’t say I see anything there.”
A large finger extended toward the solitary figure high into the rigging, gesturing excitedly at the crew below.
“Which is why we have a man all the way up there, miss. Besides… look.”
He turned toward the ship’s stern. It took her a moment to realize what to look for.
“Birds?”
“Seagulls, miss. They have been with us since morning.”
Her look, directed at the captain, was enough to state the unvoiced question.
“We are close enough to land for them to be here. Also, they learned that they might find something edible in our wake. Meaning, at least some ships pass through here, and except for the foolish and well financed, losing sight of land is a bad thing. So much easier to navigate, and you can always hope for a shelter in case of a gathering storm.
He squinted, his features seeming to solidify as the man studied the horizon.
"Such as the one over there. They come in quite fast hereabouts.”
He walked away, issuing orders to the crew and leaving her to study the darkened clouds seeping into the sky from the north. She shivered at the first cold gust, as much from the sudden change of temperature as the implications of what it was bringing to the crippled vessel.
The ragged edges of the clouds were like the dark wings of a chaotic flock of ravens,
voraciously devouring the indistinctive shapes hanging overhead. As they passed through the city's gate, the air filled with the sickly stench of burned meat that seemed to tear at her mind as if a carrion bird itself, until her sentience was wholy devoured.
- Jewel