The Princess and the Blood of Eternity

Chapter 5: The Island of Two Mounds

"Keep right!" Quinn said. Her earlier grievance and emotion with Cassandra had disappeared. The short shipwright had adopted the guise of absolute professionalism. On the high seas, a fool did not last long. Either they took their crew down with them, or the crew would expel them before the former came to pass. "Sandbar up ahead!" she added. "On my signal, swing hard to port!" She held up her arm, then whistled before swinging her arm in a chopping motion.

Agis spun the helm with all the force he could muster, and Ural angled the aft boom by feeding rope through the rigging. The wind did the rest by pulling the hemp cloth and opening the sail to the new angle.

An individual could do the chore of adjusting sails. Unless the weather had turned, then a powerful gust could rip a line free even from Ural's grip and he was the strongest person Cleo had ever met.

The largest cargo ships, their halyards, often required eight or more men hauling ropes as thick as a man's leg. It was grueling, dangerous work raising sails or anchors, and if the weather turned with one of those sails—a snapped rope could fly with enough force to slice a man in half. Cleo had never seen it, but a group of old sailors at a local tavern had sworn they'd witnessed one such event.

After some maneuvering, they had the boat lined up with the island's dock. Cleo went up and down the port railing, flipping the fenders to keep the dock from damaging their hull. He then tossed heavy ropes over the side before leaping onto the dock to tie them off on the bollards built into the dock's wooden surface.

He almost fell on his face from dehydration and the gliding motion of his sea legs. Being on the ocean for so long always made the transition a tad precarious. As a veteran of trade, he should be better than this—today was just one of those days.

Ural soon joined, helping tie off the last rope connected to the stern. "This land is too empty. I don't like it," he grumbled under his breath, slapping his round belly to stress the point. "Never a good sign when you're the only boat in the harbor."

Cleo noticed he already had his sword strapped to his back. Not entirely abnormal, but the promptness of the weapon spoke to the situation.

Marius disembarked next. He glanced at the sun, causing his eyes to flash their usual golden. Cleo wished he could read the old man's thoughts. Days spent as an unsociable hermit, then a princess shows up and he's nearly back to acting normal—normal for him, at least.

Cleo could ask, but the chance he would receive a proper answer was slim to none. Plus, he'd rather avoid the passengers overhearing them argue. Demoralization was a real issue. A negative attitude was one thing, but stuck on a boat, in the middle of the ocean, minor disagreements had a way of blossoming to open conflict.

Eventually, they had the boat secured and everyone moving down the dock and headed for the beach. Cleo hesitated before he stepped on the sand. It felt like they'd reached some sort of threshold, as if going on meant there would be no turning back.

Sails tied down, and the boat anchored to the dock, they certainly could not leave in a hurry, not without a scramble of effort. But this was different. Venturing forth, things had a way of getting real—real quick.

"What are we waiting for?" Cassandra barked. "The island won't bite. Let's get this over with."

"Nothing... I guess," Cleo said as he led them onto the beach, heading toward the village.

She was right. They'd come too far to turn back without water.

Ural continued his grumbling. "I don't like this. Maybe the islanders had run afoul of pirates as well."

"Impossible," Boulder said. "This close to Qerath? No pirating group would dare disturb territory owned by the Matriarch. It would be suicide. The whole of the navy would rain down on their heads."