Fog, the bane of sailors everywhere. Thick enough to stand on and nearly as dark as a thundercloud, it creeped over the railing, sending tendrils of mist to lick at the planks. The lamps were up as high as they could go. But no matter how bright the lamps were, they could only cut through so much.
He really should slow down. A fog this thick could easily hide rocks or reefs that would tear his little tin steamer to ribbons.
But Manuel de Regez had a reputation to uphold. He had never missed a deadline before and that record would not be broken today. This shipment would be on time even if it killed him.
There was a splash off the port side. It was nothing probably, just a fish. Five minutes later, maybe ten and he heard it again, stern side this time.
There was no other sound but the muffled hum of the motor and the creak of rigging that had gone too long without oil. Manuel would see to that when he reached port.
Another heavy splash hit the water.
Manuel secured the wheel and went to look out over the edge. Maybe it was just some dolphin riding alongside the ship, although these waters were usually too cold for their ilk.
Beneath the rail, the Zarat's icy waters were darker than the black lake of the underworld.
And Manuel had barely glimpsed that before the sea opened and he was staring down the maw of a nightmare from that same dark lake.