Ten days had passed since they set sail with Bortak from Yarbok Port. It had been ten days of open ocean with not so much as a whiff of land or sight of another sail. A day after they had left port there were not even sightings of sea birds. Everyday had been scorching sunshine, with barely any clouds in the sky. Life as a seafarer did not really agree with Nathaniel. He had not been sick yet despite the stench, but the seas had been relatively calm so far. It was the salt laden wind that he found disagreeable. His face would be chapped and battered all day long and somehow the salt even made its way into his clothes and chafed between the creases of his body. How anyone could spend a lifetime doing this was beyond him. Ten days had already been long enough and yet he still had a full month of service to Bortak to endure before he could even start the voyage east to find the elves.
It was already looking like it would be another scorching hot day as the sun flooded the morning sky with the customary gentle pale blue. Nathaniel's skin was already getting a bronze tan, as he was forced to walk around bare chested to cope with the heat. The actual operation of the ship he found fairly simple and perhaps a little enjoyable, if only as a distraction to the conditions. He mostly climbed up the mast to shorten and extend the sails. He knew this was dictated by the wind conditions but sometimes he felt Bortak gave the orders on a whim. He had on one occasion steered the ship, under instruction from the first mate. Most of the crew stayed clear of Nathaniel and his companions, treating them very much as outsiders. Only Bortak would interact with them and usually only to gloat at the discomfort he was making them endure. Some days it was truly hard to stay true to the cause.
Twenty more days was all he had to endure of this then he could be on his way. Though they had not made landfall yet or taken any slaves, so the worst was most definately still to come. Being stuck in the middle of what looked like an endless expanse of ocean was a peculiar experience. He had no choice other than to put his trust in the slimy man calling himself captain of the ship. Nathaniel could track through forests and across rough terrain for miles and miles, but he had no knowledge whatsoever of navigating at sea. There were no landmarks and the waves and tides moved everything constantly. The only objects to follow were in the sky. Using the position of the sun, moon and stars seemed the only way to possibly know which way you were going. That did not however tell you where you'd come or where you currently were. Trusting Bortak on that front was far more difficult.
As the daily ration of grog was distributed by the first mate, Bortak announced to everyone they would be making landfall in the morning at the Isle of Benthor. There, they would find villages of native people to round up and capture. Most of the crew were quite seasoned and all of them had sailed with Bortak on at least two previous voyages. They knew the routine and seemed eager to set foot ashore and have their vile sport. Bortak approached Nathaniel and his companions separately, explaining that serving on his crew did not just involve manning the ship. He also expected them to contribute to acquiring captives. A prospect which Nathaniel was distinctly uncomfortable with. Just as Bortak predicted, land was sighted the following day. At first Nathaniel wasn't sure if it was truly land, but the presence of seagulls confirmed it to be true.
Despite the moniker of Isle, Benthor was in fact a large land mass, just not part of the continent. The coast disappeared over the horizon on either side and clearly stretched on for many miles. When they were close to land, Bortak guided the ship into a bay which looked to have a good landing. It was even possible to see a small village, not far from the sea where they had anchored. The ship's boats were lowered into the water and rowed across to land on the beach. Only Mutt remained aboard as he was too large to really fit in the small boats. The sand was almost white and extremely soft underfoot. The waves gently sucked at the beach and there was a slight heat haze where the sand was being cooked under the hot sun. It was a calm and serene setting, which made it quite surreal that it was all about to change. The small village of people had noticed their arrival and seemed to be showing an interest. Bortak raised his cutlass above his head and charged headlong at them, screaming, with the rest of the crew not far behind.
They were a primitive people, living in huts made from wood frames covered by animal skins. They wore basic clothes, simply rags wrapped around their wastes and covering their chests. They had very simple tools and weapons, no match for the forged steel of the slavers. Some of the slavers started setting their huts aflame to drive them out into the open, so they could round them up. Many tried to run into the trees beyond their village but the slavers stil caught them. Nathaniel and Grolt had refused to actually round up anyone but agreed they would help load any captives into the ship. It was a matter of minutes until the whole village was on fire and all the villagers had been caught and shackled.
The long line of terrified faces then began the slow walk toward the boats, where Nathaniel and Grolt had been waiting, watching the whole situation unfold. One slow step at a time the captives shuffled on board, the chains at their ankles and wrists clanking with each step. Once all the captives were aboard, the boats were rowed back to the ship. The first batch of slaves were secured behind the iron gratings at the lowest level of the ship. This was where the smell was at its worst, as all the human waste ran down there. It was more than likely most of these people would die before they were sold. The slavers would make sure they rounded up plenty of captives to sell, to make sure they still made a meaty profit from the trip. With the cargo stowed, the crew then scoured the village for anything of value, though it was unlikely anything these people had would survive the flames.
The crew slept ashore that night, in the burnt remains of the village they had not long destroyed. It was at least a relief to be away from the stench of the ship for a night. Bortak explained that tomorrow they would venture further inland and find more villages to steal people from. All told they spent a further ten days on Benthor, rounding up more villages of people, unaware of the horror their life had now become. They were shackled and then crammed into the stinking lower decks of the slave ship. When there was finally no more room in the ship to fit anymore they called an end to the expedition, hailing it as a success. Those unfortunate enough to be left over when the ship was full had their throats cut and their corpses thrown overboard. Perhaps it was the more fortunate path - a quick death by a blade, rather than a slow death of servitude.
They set sail leaving Benthor behind and Nathaniel again returned to counting the days, waiting for when his month of serving under Bortak would be over and he could finally complete the voyage to the elves. Once again the ship was out in the open ocean, with endless sea all around them as far as the eye could see. Nathaniel could not say when they would see land again or where that would be. After a further nine days of sailing the wide, unchanging landscape, Nathaniel had lost count of the days and was unsure much of his service remained. What he was sure of was that it was coming to an end. The sun was low in the sky, turning it a deep orange along the horizon and giving the waves a purple hue. He was standing near the first mate at the ship's wheel when Bortak approached him and invited him down into the captain's cabin.
Nathaniel followed him into his cabin, curious what he had to say. He was conscious that the month was almost up and soon Bortak would take him away into the east. "Tomorrow is the last day of your month of servitude. It will also be the day we arrive back in Yarbok Port. You can decide whether or not to stay aboard my ship. If not then we part ways my friend," he announced with his twisted, sly grin of black and gold teeth. A wave of anger washed over Nathaniel. He could not believe that he had trusted this crook to uphold his end of the bargain. "We have a deal. I have held up my end. You must hold up yours," Nathaniel demanded.
"Hah! You fool, I have no obligation to you," he snorted.
"You have no honour, slaver filth!" Nathaniel shouted, seething with anger.
Bortak slammed his fists down onto the table and grunted angrily, staring Nathaniel down with fire behind his eyes. Next he pulled a large gold ring off his right hand middle finger. "You see this ring!" he shouted. It was an incredibly ornate ring, with a large sapphire set into it and a swirling leaf pattern delicately and ornately carved into the metal. It was quite beautiful and far too nice for the likes of Bortak to be wearing. "This is the captain's ring. The man who wears it commands this ship. I cut this ring from the hand of my former master, right after I killed him. This is how it works at sea. He wasn't strong enough to command the ship so I took it from him. Honour means nothing." He explained, seemingly getting pleasure from the grizzly tale. "I'M THE CAPTAIN!" He yelled ferociously, spit flying into Nathaniel's face. "The ship goes where I say it goes."
Nothing more was said but their eyes remained locked for a few seconds after. Eventually Nathaniel turned and left the cabin, his head and heart full of woe. He sighed and a small tear welled in his eye. He had failed Torstein. He was no closer to where he needed to be and had now wasted a month placing his trust in a dishonourable low life. He returned to find Grolt at their hammocks to give him the bad news. Anger flashed across the dwarf's face and Nathaniel had to use all his strength to stop him from running off to try and kill the captain. They were stuck on his ship with a crew who saw them as outsiders and were loyal to Bortak. It would not go down well for them if they killed him, regardless of what Bortak said of how command was transferred at sea. All he could do was lay in his hammock and wile away the hours, waiting to make landfall back in Yarbok Port in the morning. He simply lay there staring up at the ceiling trying not to dwell on the dire state they were now in.