Darkin: A Journey East (20 page)

“Looked like a ship—it disappeared behind the fog,” Slowin said.

“You both saw it then? Definitely a ship?”

“Looked like it,” Slowin replied, and Flaer nodded yes.

“Tell Remtall; we’ll stay and watch,” Slowin said. Adacon acknowledged and returned swiftly to the helm with the news.

“It was a ship. They all saw it. It’s disappeared in the fog,” Adacon reported.

“It’s no ship,” Remtall uttered between puffs from his pipe.

“What do you mean?” Adacon asked, stricken with surprise. At that moment Erguile composed himself and trudged over to join them.

“I’ve known this presence before. Though it looks like a ship, rest assured she isn’t,” Remtall answered. Adacon shuddered.

“What’s going on, did anyone see it?” Erguile asked.

“Slowin and Flaer did, but it’s gone now. They’re keeping an eye out for it,” Adacon answered. “What is it Remtall?”

“It’s a phantom—a vision of a ship that sank more than three hundred years ago,” Remtall said.

“What?” Erguile recoiled.

“Don’t fret; she’ll be of no harm to us. There’s the Fang Shoals for fretting.”

“A phantom ship,” Adacon’s eyes widened as the wind picked up, rocking the ship violently. Remtall grabbed the rail while Adacon grabbed the side of a mast, but Erguile went tumbling onto the deck. Thunder came at its loudest, and a great whine reverberated from near the cabin.

“Weakhoof!” Erguile cried, rushing to his feet. In his sickness Erguile had forgotten about his horse. Weakhoof had braved enough of the storm quietly, but as it worsened the steed could remain fearless no more. An eruption of neighing sounded from the cabin, and as Erguile came to Weakhoof’s side he saw that the horse had nearly loosed its rein.

“Easy girl,” Erguile comforted. “We’ll be through this soon.” Adacon and Remtall watched Erguile quiet the horse; he seemed even through his fit to be courageous.

“How can you be sure we’re in no danger of attack?” Adacon asked Remtall as he steadied the wheel.

“Fool…Complex answers I do not give for simple questions. Have a draught,” Remtall responded. He offered Adacon his flask. Adacon took a sip and coughed, handing it back to Remtall.

“Much harsher than Krem’s wine,” Adacon complained.

“We will have much time to discuss phantoms and shoals when the Kalm has regained its namesake; until then, fetch yourself to help your friend. Weakhoof looks distressed,” Remtall commanded. Adacon nodded, leaving the captain alone at the wheel with his smoldering pipe.

The Blockade Runner jogged eastward into the storm, and the weather worsened. Adacon tended Weakhoof with Erguile, and Flaer remained on the bow searching the fog-ridden sea. Slowin had retreated to the stern, standing next to Remtall, discussing something. The swells increased and Erguile fell sick again. Several hours seemed to pass, and finally the rain slowed. The sky cleared, revealing an early cluster of moons. Tired from the storm, the crew retired after a quick dinner without conversation. Adacon had been eager to learn more of the phantom ship from Remtall, and he wanted to ask Slowin if he knew where Krem might be, but fatigue won out. Soon they were all asleep, even Slowin, save for Remtall who somehow kept awake and guided the ship onward under the still night sky.

Time passed quickly for the crew on their second day at sea. Both slaves apprenticed under Remtall, learning what they could about the rigging of the schooner. The weather remained fair throughout the day, and Weakhoof seemed to be especially enjoying the lack of waves. He stood shaded underneath a tarp Erguile had raised for him. The sun waned and nightfall crept upon them once more, and near the cabin Flaer made a dinner of food from the pirate store: biscuits, gravy, jerky, tea, and sweet rainbow-colored fruits served for dessert. The cool night air wrapped around them as they sat eating; the stars shone bright, piquing Adacon’s imagination.

“How many days until we arrive?” Adacon asked Remtall, sitting across from him puffing on his pipe.

“Three weeks, I suppose, at this rate,” Remtall replied.

“Who would know an ocean was this big?” Erguile chimed in, lighting his own pipe; it was filled with the last remnants of Krem’s tobacco.

“The Kalm is greatest of all the oceans, and surely the sweetest to her patrons, save for the Fang Shoals,” said Remtall.

“How many oceans are there?” Erguile asked.

“Four that are known; legend tells of uncharted seas deep in the West, beyond Arkenshyr. No one can know for sure, as the Carnalfages hold too strong a patrol on the western rim of the Angelyn peninsula. Not even Grelion dares trade upon those waters.”

“Carnalfages—did you see any on the Point?” asked Erguile.

“Unfortunately—I had to lay several to rest during my stay,” Remtall chuckled.

“Our captain boasts, and drinks too much,” Slowin laughed.

“Boast?” Remtall said; he quieted in seriousness, unsheathing his dagger: the once smooth edge of his blade had a serial lining of nicks running its entire length, the serrated signature of teeth bites. “I wish I had utility to boast on a journey such as this, silver golem. But I can’t wholly blame you for doubting me, seeing how much a gnome’s stature belies his valor in combat.” Remtall gulped from his fresh-filled flagon of pirate rum, apparently offended by Slowin’s sarcasm. “We’ll face our share soon, I think.”

“What do you mean by that?” Adacon asked.

“I
mean
, don’t be fooled into thinking this trip will be all glorious fun, because where we purpose to go holds a greater danger than any of you yet realize,” Remtall foreboded.

“The Fang Shoals?” Adacon asked anxiously. Flaer shook his head, tired of hearing Remtall’s rants.

“Yes, the Fang Shoals. But much worse is Karabden, the black tidal kraken who calls the Fang Shoals her home,” Remtall warned.

“Kraken?” Erguile questioned. “You mean, the great whirlpool monsters?”

“Quite learned for a slave, aren’t you boy?” Remtall replied. Slowin lay back against the rail, and quick to follow was Flaer; they both closed their eyes as Remtall began tales of sea monsters that lasted deep into the night. Both slaves hung on his every word, constantly inquiring about the frightening lore their captain spun, until finally Slowin advised that they should all get some sleep. As Flaer retired to his portion of the cabin floor, followed by Erguile, Slowin turned to Remtall, who continued to drink from his flask and puff on his pipe.

“Don’t you think you should get some sleep, Captain? You haven’t slept since coming aboard,” Slowin urged.

“Never mind sleep—not for a gnome. The need for sleep does not burden a gnome as it does a man, or a silver golem for that matter,” Remtall snickered. Slowin smiled, and decided not to press Remtall further, although he felt troubled by the gnome’s vigilance. Slowin walked to a part of the deck near the starboard bow where he kept a rug. Adacon trailed him, asking another question before the golem lay down for the night:

“Slowin…”

“Yes, Adacon, what is it?”

“Krem—is there anything you haven’t told us? Do you know any more about what he’s doing or where he is?”

“Ummph” Slowin sighed. “He was very vague with me that day in the forest. He only told me that a great evil had returned to strength, and he was off to halt it before it might strengthen further.”

“When do you think we might see him again?” Adacon asked.

“I cannot say, Adacon, but rest assured: Krem will return, just as I will return home to my forest.”

“You’re not going to keep traveling with us once he comes back?”

“Once I have fulfilled my favor to Krem, I intend to return to the peace I have ever enjoyed in seclusion,” Slowin replied, emotionless.

“But how can you do that? You know what is at stake for the world,” Adacon gasped.

“There will be a great council of Vapours in Erol Drunne, perhaps we will learn more of Krem’s actions there. Perhaps—perhaps he will be there. For now, however, it is good night,” Slowin answered. The hulking silver mass lumbered away leaving Adacon rabid with more questions. Slowin lay down on his mat to sleep. Adacon surveyed that everyone had gone to bed except Remtall, who had drifted up to the stern. Saddened by Slowin’s desire to leave them as soon as he could, Adacon trudged to his own spot of cabin floor, wishing Krem were back.

*                  *                 *

Adacon awoke the next morning with greetings of furious wind and rain, accompanied by the loud whinnying of Weakhoof. It was barely midmorning, and already the sky was blackened with thunderclouds. Adacon slowly stood to his feet; he saw Erguile huddled under Weakhoof’s tarp and sprinted under to find shelter with them.

“Good morning Addy,” Erguile grunted, trying to keep Weakhoof calm. Rain pelted heavily upon the tarp in rhythmic waves. A cold chill whipped underneath the weather shield.

“Morning—this is unbelievable—what weather; I thought the Kalm got its name for being a calm ocean,” Adacon replied.

“So did I. It’s been like this for nearly ten minutes. I don’t know how you managed to stay asleep,” Erguile said.

“It was strange—I was in a dream talking to Krem, and he was telling me about my true quest:
our
true quest,” Adacon recalled. “He was telling me that from Erol Drunne we must again return to the West to meet our final destiny, and that before the end a great tragedy will come to pass.”

“Strange indeed, but I don’t heed silly dreams—nor should you pay it much mind. For all we know Krem is dead, just as the dark stranger told us,” Erguile coldly replied.

“Don’t say that! Even Slowin says he lied!” Adacon replied defensively. He sulked in quiet for several moments pondering Krem’s fate. “What of this storm? Have you talked with Remtall?”

“When I first woke I did. He thinks the storm will only worsen as the day goes on.”

“I’ll go and speak to him. Do you need help with Weakhoof?” Adacon asked before walking across the deck and into the rain again.

“He’ll be alright. He’s been very brave through all this. I don’t think she much approves of sailing though,” he chuckled. Erguile returned his attention to Weakhoof as Adacon struck out into the rain toward the cabin where Slowin, Flaer, and Remtall were standing.

“Good morning Adacon, and a fine one at that, eh?” Remtall greeted. The others turned to say hello.

“This weather is awful, and Erguile said we should expect it to last?” Adacon probed.

“As sure as I am a gnome we should expect more. And I think we will be delayed a day or two if these winds stay easterly,” answered the captain. Though the gnome had not slept in the past few days he seemed oddly rejuvenated, and Adacon marveled at his vigor. Flaer returned to the sea-chart he had been poring over, examining their course. Slowin asked how Erguile was dealing with the waves.

“Surprisingly well I’ll say, compared to the other day. What’s more surprising is how well Weakhoof is handling the weather,” Adacon answered.

“There is more to that steed than meets the eye,” Slowin replied. “Help yourself to some tea, and there’s something to eat over there.”

“Thanks.”

Remtall and Slowin joined Flaer in his study of the chart. Adacon surveyed the horizon in all directions, seeing nothing but thick grey clouds and occasional flashes of lightning. The rain had lightened since he first woke, but it seemed colder, and Adacon longed for a place that was warm and dry. The steady pour of drops increased again while Adacon fetched his cup of tea, and got a second for Erguile. Returning to Weakhoof’s tarp, Erguile thanked him heartily for the hot brew.

“Should do me well, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” said Erguile.

“Maybe you’ll get rest this afternoon if the weather breaks and the air warms.”

“Perhaps. I am weary though. Much like your dream with Krem I had a dream, but with a darker note—mind you I pay dreams no mind, but they linger when dark: the phantom ship had come back, and it sieged our vessel. And just as death came I envisioned Karabden rising from the sea, coming to swallow us all in its thousand-teethed mouth.” Erguile trembled as he relayed his nightmare.

“I’d tell you your own advice again—as you pay my dream no mind, do the same for yours. We truly are safe as long as Remtall keeps his wits.”

“That’s another thing—sometimes I doubt that little man’s composure. He’s always drinking liquor at the oddest hours of the day, never sleeping. I wonder how long he can keep it up.”

“I guess we can’t worry about it until the time comes, can we?”

“I suppose you’re right…”

As the two slaves finished their conversation, the loudest clap of thunder either had ever heard sounded. Adacon looked upon the eastern sky for the source to the noise; there he witnessed a sight that shocked him more deeply than anything he’d so far seen on their journey: cutting down from the heavens, a league in front of the Blockade Runner, was an enormous lightning bolt, impossibly thick and bright—and rather than dissipating in a flash, the bolt drilled down into the ocean ceaselessly. Through the grey and rain it was perfectly visible; the two slaves stood as if paralyzed, witnessing the writhing light that seemed to thicken. Just then a clap of thunder came again; the noise did not fade but lasted, growing louder, just as the bolt of lightning that lit the sky in the distance. The slaves covered their ears in response to pain, as the thunderous note sustained, unwaning, increasing. With his ears covered, Adacon felt pain vibrating deep into his skull. The thunder loudened in furious spats. Erguile saw Weakhoof begin to panic; he frantically tried to calm the wild horse, but the noise was too much for the old stallion to bear. He broke from his post and began to gallop wildly about the deck in panic. Erguile gave chase, releasing his hands from his ears and allowing the pain of the thunderous noise to throb deep into his brain.

“Erguile don’t!” Adacon tried to yell, but his shout was useless amidst the terrible volume. He turned his glance to the cabin and saw Flaer and Slowin both covering their ears, staring out at the terrible apparition in the sky; they stood motionless, awestruck by the force of light and sound. Adacon suddenly jerked into action, seeing Erguile struggling with Weakhoof, who was attempting to throw himself from the portside bow.