Song of Sages

2. A Different Storm

Rusta

Rusta was drenched. Her black hair streamed water into her now matted and sodden fur vest and the wet leather of her boots rubbed uncomfortably against her heels. Below, the ocean heaved, while above the sky broiled with dark clouds. Rusta held tight to the railing as the ship pitched downward and another wave crashed across the deck.

The crew scurried around her, their skills put to their greatest test. Every face that passed her was either crunched in concentration or openly terrified. At the helm, Garrick was laughing as he held tight to the wheel.

Rusta turned her gaze back to the approaching basalt columns. The gap between them seemed impossibly narrow, though Garrick had insisted there was a way through. Right before the storm hit and all hell broke loose. Now, every hand was just trying to keep the ship from sinking.

"Zagrev protect us," she muttered as the wind howled and a sailor went tumbling by her. She freed a hand from the rail to snatch his coat and haul him bodily backward. Her long nails had torn holes in the fabric, but better that than falling overboard.

"Thank--thank ya, miss," he stuttered, his face paler than the seafoam that lingered on the deck between waves. His eyes flickered to the horns that protruded from her hair and curled backwards over her head. At least that's what she assumed he was looking at; she might very well have a fish caught in her hair.

"I'm not a 'miss'," she said. The sailor gave a jerky nod, gathered himself up and hurried off.

Rusta steadied herself again as another wave crashed into the boat and then began to make her slow way to the helm, where Garrick was still laughing. Has he gone mad?

Rusta was not a seafaring sort, hailing from the mountains, though she had gotten her sea legs fairly quickly. They had weathered bad storms in their four months at sea. This storm was different though. This smelled of magic. Old magic.

She swayed up the steps to the where Garrick had braced himself behind the wheel. "Captain!" she shouted.

"Rusta!" he shouted back, grinning. His teeth were bright against his dark skin and the dark skies behind him.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Try not to fall overboard! I'll need you on the mainland!"

If we make it that far, Rusta thought.

"Where is our young princeling?" Garrick called, keeping his eye on the surging sea ahead of them.

"Bhar is safely below deck," she replied. "Though if the ship sinks, it won't really matter where he is."

Garrick frowned, rain running into the weathered lines of his face. "We're not going to sink!" he scolded. "This is a trial!"

And one I'm not sure we are going to pass. They were almost upon the columns now; their dark forms nearly lost among the watery darkness. Rusta squinted. Figure heads made the top of the columns bulky, but weather and time had eroded the carvings too much for her to make anything of them. Suddenly, the pillars loomed up around them like teeth thrust through the water and Rusta sucked in her breath. They were too close; they were going to wreck themselves on the rocks.

"Garrick!" she shouted in warning.

"Have a little faith!" came the reply above the roar of the storm.

The irony was not lost on Rusta. Either he is right or we are all about to die.

Garrick held tight to the wheel, making minute corrections as the ocean seized beneath them, trying to throw their course. The prow of the ship bucked up and down but moved steadily forward towards the center of their entry point. Garrick began to sing, raising his deep, resonant voice above the water and wind and snapping sails. The words were of a language Rusta didn't know, but she felt an unexpected calm settle in her gut upon hearing them.

A sharp grating sound briefly drowned out the hymn as their starboard side scraped stone. A shudder went through the ship and a scream split the storm as one of the men was pitched overboard. Garrick sang louder. Rusta went to her knees at the jolt and said a silent prayer, though she didn't know for whom she prayed.

And then they were past the columns, though the storm still raged.

As Garrick finished the third recitation of his song, he glanced down at Rusta and said, "Go make sure we aren't taking on any water."

She wiped the rain and salt from her eyes and pushed herself to her feet. Making her way below deck, she allowed herself a few deep breaths, grateful for the brief respite. All but one of the wildly swinging lanterns had gone out on the first deck where the cabins were, but nothing else seemed amiss.

When she continued farther down into the bilge though, her feet met water.

Not good. It was ankle deep, and as she waded through the gloom to the far side she saw the cracked board where the water was seeping in.

Retreating to the first deck again, Rusta made her way to the third cabin and knocked on the door. It cracked open and a bronze face with dark red hair peeked out.

"I just wanted to see that you were well, Lord Bhar," she said. The door opened further, revealing a youth of twenty years trying to stand straight and still despite the rocking of the ship and the nauseated expression that twisted his lips.

"Have we--is the storm--" he clapped a hand to his mouth.

"We've made it past the rocks, but the storm persists."

"Right," he said meekly.

"We are taking on water," she said. "It's slow but if we don't make landfall soom, we'll have to abandon ship."

Bhar's dark brown eyes grew wide. "I'll get you if it comes to that," Rusta assured him, saving him from having to speak and risk reliving his dinner. He nodded gratefully and retreated.

When she emerged into the open air again it was to see with relief that the storm was dispersing, though she wasn't sure the thick cloud of fog they were headed for boded any better. By the time she rejoined Garrick, they had entered the bank of mist and a cold silence descended upon them. The hair along Rusta's arms prickled in warning. This wasn't natural. No storm abated that quickly. Around them, the fog crept up and over the railings like smoke.

"Damage report?" asked Garrick. He took his hands briefly off the wheel to ring out his hat, water spattering the deck, and then plopped it back onto his head with a wet splat.

"Some cracked boards on the starboard side. We're taking on water, but slowly."

Garrick cursed and put his calloused hands back on the wheel. "I suppose that's a small price to pay. We should be able to make landfall before it becomes a real problem."

"Should?" demanded Rusta. He waved her question away and she pursed her lips, turning back towards the ocean. The fog rolled over the deck like shredded clouds. A splash sounded off in the distance. "Have you seen weather conditions like this before?" she asked.

"I've read about them," said Garrick. "And I believe this indicates we are on the right path."

Rusta wondered yet again why she had agreed to this folly of a journey. Because you wanted to see the world beyond the mountains, said a voice in her head. And certainly, in the last year, she had seen a great deal. But...perhaps her Clan was right. Perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew. And this far from the peaks, could Zagrev even hear her prayers?

She was brought back to attention by another splash, this time closer. The fog was still swirling on deck, coalescing in certain spots, rotating the opposite way in others and twining up the mast like a serpent. Unnatural, she thought again.

As she turned to ask Garrick another question, he said, "Better get your sword out, Rusta."

"Captain?" she asked. Below, something dark and slimy pulled itself over the railing and tumbled onto the deck.

"Seems that we are about to enter phase two of the trial."

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Alrighty, there it is! Chapter 2! We've met a couple new characters here and I'm so curious to hear your first impressions of them :)

Thanks so much for reading! 

<3 E