Seraphine didn’t wait for the crowd to quiet down. Didn’t introduce herself. She set her copper bowl at the edge of the small stage and began playing. She struck the chords softly at first as she scanned the crowd, her head and shoulders swaying with the melody. As each pair of eyes met hers, she gave a smile and a nod, the volume increasing each time. Already, she had the feeling. The groove. The crowd settled, and several heads bobbed to the rhythm. Soon they would be quiet, and the show would begin.
Her father told her ages ago, there were singers, there were musicians, but then there were bards. Bards were the bridge between music and the mystic. Mages and priests used their will, their emotions, their faith, their incantations, or inspiration to achieve the desired magical effects they sought. For bards, they used music to achieve the same connection. First within themselves, then through their audience, where genuine power can be cultivated. According to legend, which good bards should know many, the world was not just created, but created by sentence. A line. A lyric; as part of a grand celestial song. Her father mentioned his desire to become so deft in his skill that he could sway the will of entire kingdoms with just his music.
While she was nowhere near that level of talent, she knew how to work a tavern. The trick was to know a lot of songs, especially local favorites. She spent many a long moment, meandering in her slowly drying leather armor, speaking to various townsfolk to learn about the region, the ships and their crews, leads for potential jobs, and any good gossip. Once comfortable, she would pry into the town’s culture and try to learn about the favored songs. Seraphine spent a good hour in the small library nestled within the mayor’s office, which possessed a small book of music complete with some chords. She wrote most of them and practiced behind the Seafarer’s Rest.
Seraphine completed her introduction melody and began with one of her favorites, a song she wrote just before leaving home.
“A soft wind brushes the hearth, a single spark sighs.” She murmured, leading into the first stanza.
I walked the marble aisle, a crown of gilded vows,
Yet the stone beneath my feet sang of a road untrod now.
I slipped the silken ribbon, let the sunrise find my skin,
And in the quiet courtyard, the first ember breathed within.
They offered roses wrapped in duty, petals pressed to stone,
I turned my face toward the open sky, where constellations roam.
With the buildup to the refrain, she poured out a portion of the magic welling within her. The ones paying attention now found themselves moved, their eyes closing slightly as their swaying increased. Those still conversing turned their heads her way, now enraptured by her mystical melody.
Dance with my inner flame,
I dance with my inner flame!
Let the night become our stage,
Two bright sparks in secret sway,
Until the world forgets its cage.
She tempered her use of the sacred magic. Many younger, inexperienced bards took this time to manipulate the groove. To amplify its effects. While it may prove fruitful, they often found themselves exhausted and lose the connection with the crowd, becoming nothing more than a piece of pleasant background. Seraphine made sure she was never just part of the background. The magic started with the first refrain, and the first chord change afterwards punctuates it. These minor flares of power, felt but not seen, then become part of the beat and flow from one song to the next, building every step of the way. The trick was to work the magic into the rhythm, in small, slowly building stanzas.
My lute now rests on river-soft reeds, its strings a trembling hue,
I chase the wind that steals my verses, the chorus of the blue.
Each step I take leaves ash-kissed footprints, a trail the moon will read,
Yet shadows stretch in every dusk, longing for a kindred seed.
I hear a distant drum, a heartbeat far from mine,
A pulse that matches firelight, a rhythm out of time.
Like a magical heartbeat empowering everyone in earshot, the music flowed through the entire inn. Through herself as well. She had seen, lived, and experienced too much for her music not to command everyone’s attention. The memories, the emotions she shared with them. Within them. Then, with the last verse, you blow them away figuratively.
Dance with my inner flame,
I dance with my inner flame!
Let the night become our stage.
Two bright sparks in secret sway,
Until the world forgets its cage.
Dance with my inner flame,
I dance with my inner flame!
Let the night become our stage.
Two bright sparks in secret sway,
Until the world forgets its cage.
They offered roses wrapped in duty, petals pressed to stone.
I turned my face toward the open sky, where constellations roam.
I hear a distant drum, a heartbeat far from mine,
A pulse that matches firelight, a rhythm out of time.
‘And not with screaming lyrics or fingers flying across your strings,’ Her father had said, ‘But with your presence, your emotion, and most importantly, your connection with the audience.’
Now, as the song reached its conclusion, she laid her power on with an even keel. Increasing the flow within the groove.
Dance with my inner flame
I dance with my inner flame!
Let the night become our stage.
Two bright sparks in secret sway,
Until the world forgets its cage.
Dance with my inner flame,
‘Til sunrise crowns our blaze,
When a kindred fire meets mine,
the night will sing our praise.
I will dance with
I will dance with
I will dance with
Dance with my inner flame!
The Seafarer’s Rest stood in applause. She laughed nervously at the attention she had drawn and gave a slight bow before taking a drink from her ale. When the crowd settled, she continued with “Worried Of A Chance”, “Talk about His Travels”, “The Hold Of Your Heartbeat”, and “Dreams, Luck, and Paradise”. Each song drew longer and louder applause, and quite a few coins clanged loudly in her bowl. She closed the set, the playlist shorter than she intended, with a local song, “Pour Out Your Cup for the Sea.” Several townspeople recommended it and, while she did not give it her all, she gave it the right amount of energy to keep the cheers, and the coin, flowing. The song garnered claps, murmurs, and cheers at its start. When she finished, a thunderous applause rose from the decent-sized gathering. She refused to play more, wanting to space it out between the two inns. The performance made a great deal of coin, and she did not want to tire out the audience, or their purses, too soon.
“You’ve improved,” Roderick said.
“Thank you. It’s a very good start.”
The barmaid refilled her mug and continued on to the next table, many others needed their drinks refreshed. Seraphine could tell the innkeeper was reaping the benefits of her performance as well.
“Looks like you’ve got a couple of suitors already.” He said, cocking his head towards the bar.
While he meant well and she had not slept with a man in the last several weeks, that part of her business was not quite any of his. That and the pickings here were not up to her liking. Decent people, but not much more than that, as the Ashborn had inferred.
“They can keep their suits.” She said, hiding her slight disappointment. “We are on a lead, after all.”
Roderick nodded. They exchanged a bit more talk about their day, neither finding out much more about their smugglers or artifacts. The crowd seemed to favor them for now, which was always a good sign. While eager to make progress, they resolved to retire to their respective rooms.
*
Elec awoke to someone shaking his boot. Groggy, he looked around. Although he could see well in low light, the small nook serving as his berth was quite dark. When his eyes had adjusted further, he recognized the person before him.
“Good…evening. What brings you, Bram?”
“Ograrn said to wake you to see if you wanted anything for dinner before the evening shifts begin.” The young sailor said, offering a bowl of stew and some bread.
While he had already tired of stew, his stomach ached from being empty, and the magic exhaustion demanded he eat. He rose, but Bram stepped back.
“Sorry, but you’ll have to eat on deck. First mate’s orders…just in case you get sick again.”
With a shrug, Elec stretched and followed the sailor out onto the deck. Most of the crew were relaxing, some sleeping. He found a spot to sit and take in the cool evening air, the stars twinkling bright. Quite a few crew members bunched up near the mainmast, appearing to be swapping tales. They talked almost conspiratorially, their words drowned out by the wind and the rhythmic crash of the ship’s bow cutting through the sea. When he finished his meal, Elec moved closer to the mainmast, drawing nearer to the group of sailors. As he approached, the sound of their laughter and animated chatter grew louder. Bram, Barrow, and a good number of deckhands, whose names he was still learning, made up the group. As he neared, he could pick up bits of their conversation.
One sailor, a burly Half-orc, was in the middle of a story:
“…and that’s when I tell him, ‘If you can’t handle the heat, stay outta the galley!’”
Laughter erupted from the group, and a second sailor, a thin but tough-looking Human, added, “Aye, and you don’t even want to know what happened when he tried to cook that fish without the right spices. The whole crew nearly mutinied!”
Another sailor chimed in, a well-muscled woman with tanned skin and a scar across her cheek.
“I think the fish might’ve mutinied before he could even get it into the pot!”
The crew burst into renewed laughter, the others joining in. The Half-orc looked over at Elec and raised an eyebrow.
“Hey there. It’s the big, burly wizard. You know you’re supposed to spit up after the swords have been drawn…not before the fight starts proper.” The green-skinned sailor said, the crew chuckling, “So, do you have any good adventure stories?”
The rest of the group looked over, grinning and eager for stories of his own to share. Elec shook his head.
“No, sorry. I’ve only just left home, and I don’t think my stories are of the same caliber as yours…” Elec said, pausing as one good story popped into his mind, “Although, there was the time I had to do battle with Efriit the Red.”
The group of sailors went quiet at Elec’s statement, the sudden shift in tone catching their attention. They leaned in, eager to hear more, and a few exchanged glances, unsure whether Elec was pulling their leg or had something truly incredible to share. Barro motioned with his hand, urging him to continue.
“Efriit the Red, eh? That’s not a name you hear every day. Alright, what’s the story, lad? Were you battlin’ a dragon or a giant fire demon?”
The Human sailor, Devlin, he believed his name to be, chuckled but quickly quieted when it became clear the others were interested.
“Yeah, go on. What happened with this Efriit of yours?”
The scarred woman sat up straighter, her eyes narrowed in curiosity.
“I think I’ve heard of an Efriit. The one who burned half a village to the ground, right? Surely you didn’t face him alone.”
The sailors waited with bated breath, intrigued, each one eager to hear if Elec’s tale was as grand as it sounded.
“Very well…It was early in the evening, and the sun was still visible on the horizon. I had finished barning the herd and hauling the feed for the day. I had set out for a small, stony pond on a neighbor’s land, very close to the border of ours. I had worked up a good sweat, had planned to take a swim, and clean off in the rocky pool before calling it a night. When I reached the tall grass and reeds around the pool, I heard the sounds of splashing and giggling laughter.”
The sailors leaned in closer, captivated by Elec’s sudden shift in tone. The Half-orc grinned, his large tusks glinting in the fading light, intrigued by the tale that unfolded. Each one murmured comments while his words hung in the air for a moment.
“Anticipation threatened to overrule my father’s strict rules, but I would not forgo such company. I call out to them, ‘Hello?’ They return, ‘Hello.’ I said, ‘I had finished a hard day’s work on my ranch and wanted to cool off. Do you mind if I join you?’ Again, this is me without seeing them, as there were tall reeds and grass between us. There was a short whispered discussion and more giggling. Until finally they called me over…”
The sailors hung on every word now, some of them leaning forward, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity. The scarred woman raised an eyebrow, tapping her chin. Elec continued his tale, the group watching him intently, all but hanging on to the next part of the story. They shifted, eager to hear how it unfolded.
“Quick as I could, I disrobed and made my way through the reeds to the pool. Sure enough, there in the shallows on the far side, naked with just their waists below water, were three of the most beautiful ladies on my small island. Their names I’ll withhold out of my respect for them and their families, but there was an Elven girl with eyes of purple and hair like a golden sunset, a Halfling maid with hair the color of birch tree bark and honey-brown eyes, and a Human lady with eyes like melting ice and hair of snowy-white. I stood at the edge of the water, transfixed in place while they gasped and swooned as well. Then there was a crashing noise from somewhere nearby…”
Bram leaned forward, his large hands resting on his knees.
“Ah, I think I see where this is goin’.”
The human sailor snickered. The scarred woman listened closely now, her sharp eyes narrowing.
“Something tells me the crashing noise isn’t just a coincidence. What happened next?” She said, holding his gaze.
“I barely registered the noise, but the Halfling said something to me. At that moment, I had temporarily lost the ability to communicate, as I was as completely enamored as they were. ‘Waa…’ was about all I could manage before the other two girls regained their own composure. ‘…Efriit!’ was what they yelled in alarm. And, as if being summoned, the rustling and stomping began heading towards us. Thinking it was one of their boyfriends…or worse, one of their fathers, I was only starting to register the trouble when HE parted the reeds at a spot halfway between the girls and me…”
The group of sailors listened intently, their eyes widening as Elec’s story took a darker turn. With his arms crossed, Devlin leaned back, his grin still present but now holding a hint of curiosity. The scarred lady played with a strand of her long, dark hair, intrigued.
“What had parted the reeds was the largest bull I had ever seen. Hide of bright, fiery red. Horns as wide as a pair of shields and the body the size of a siege wagon. Efriit gave the girls a very nonchalant passing glance and stooped to take a drink. Now I am no stranger to handling animals, being a rancher and all…but knew I was a stranger in the mind of Efriit, and when he looked up and met my gaze, I could tell it was not going to be good…”
The group of sailors groaned before going silent, eyes widening at Elec’s words. His grin fading, the Half-orc leaned forward, processing the image of the massive bull. The tension among the sailors was palpable now, each one on the edge of their seats, awaiting what comes next in Elec’s tale.
“As you can tell, I stand out in the middle of a moonless night, being naked or not. Immediately, Efriit snorted, his hoof striking the rocks at the edge of the water. Though I didn’t see it directly, I could’ve sworn every strike of his hoof threw sparks. Before that hoof struck a fourth time, I was running.” Elec said, his hand swinging off to the horizon to illustrate his speed. “Every trick, spell, and ounce of wisdom just…gone out of my mind as the beast crashed after me. I don’t recall what exactly happened, but the next thing I knew, I was flying through the air. My arms were flailing. My body tumbling every which way. And…BAM! I was upside down in the branches of a fairly tall tree.”
Collectively, they drew in a breath, but before they could erupt, Elec stopped them.
“Wait, wait, wait! That’s not the end of it…”
The sailors remained captivated by Elec’s intense story, freezing them in place. Drunar’s eyes widened. The scarred woman remained quiet, her expression surprisingly thoughtful as she held her outburst. The rest of the group hung on Elec’s every word, the quiet evening air now filled with a palpable tension.
“Needless to say, I had to spend the entire night waiting in the tree’s branches until the beast finally became bored with waiting for me to come down. That morning, I had to walk home…completely naked…and guess who was waiting with a grin and an armload of clothes when I arrived?” Elec said, pausing for a while. “Both my parents. Suffice to say, they received a first-hand account of my situation when the girls returned my clothes to my home the previous evening. Still, they demanded that I tell the entire story. And that’s the origin of the tale of how Efriit the Red successfully defended the honor of three bathing maidens.”
The sailors burst into laughter, some shaking their heads while others chuckled outright. The half-orc roared with laughter, clutching his stomach. Bram fell off his stool.
“Ha! I bet your parents had a lot of questions after that one!”
Devlin laughed, shaking his head.
“A bull and a naked walk home? Sounds like a proper tale of embarrassment more than adventure. Those girls must’ve had a good laugh too.”
The scarred woman chuckled, but her eyes remained focused on his as she chewed the corner of her lip.
“I’m sure you learned your lesson that day, though. Tough lesson, eh, gettin’ thrown like that.” She said, grinning. “I take it Efriit wasn’t interested in letting you try again?”
The group continued to laugh, but they showed newfound respect in their eyes.
“Ha! That’s a tale for the ages, lad,” the Half-orc said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’m glad we got to hear it before we hit port.”
Elec chuckled as he excused himself from the group of sailors, leaving them still laughing and sharing more stories. He moved across the deck back towards the hatch when he saw the first mate still standing near the helm, his gaze scanning the horizon. Ograrn turned as Elec approached, giving him a nod of acknowledgment.
“Enjoyin’ the company of the crew, I see? Good to see you cuttin’ up as well as fittin’ in. You’ve got quite the knack for storytelling. Besides your ghost pirate spectacle, the crew will be talkin’ about that bull for weeks as well.”
“It’s about the best story I’ve got so far. Not too glamorous or exciting, though.” Elec said, smiling.
“No, but it’s honest. Most of your adventuring types like to make ‘emselves out as invulnerable. You, on the other hand, seem to have no problem admitting your flaws while showing your skills. Don’t ever lose that. People tend to favor humble heroes over powerful braggarts.”
Elec retired to his bunk for the evening, and when he awoke the next day, the thrum of steady rain upon the deck above his head greeted him. With a sigh, he climbed the stairs and stood upon the main deck. Despite his rancher upbringing, Elec found the light rain upon the planks quite miserable today. He found the deck quite gloomy as well. That and the sea, he thought, were pretty wretched too. While he dared not think of complaining out loud, let alone think it too heavily, Elec longed for his ranch. His little town. His little corner of the world. At the very least, he longed to be on land again, where he could go where he wanted, when he wanted. The wind was rather light, but the captain had found a good current to continue the journey. Most of the crew weathered the rain below deck, but he wasn’t feeling quite sociable for the moment. A few crew members still maintained watch above, dressed in ‘slicks’, oil-treated jackets that remained water-resistant.
“Catchin’ some doldrums, are ye? I’ve seen that look on every swab who sets out with the crew for the first time. For you, it’s not as bad being an adventurer. It’s a passing thing.” Ograrn said, nudging Elec’s shoulder. “It’s harder for sailors, who don’t have much say in the matter. They have to learn the new rhythm of the waves, of their new life, cause there ain’t much else otherwise. Anyway, if you need something to keep you busy and get out of the drizzle, you can go below and see if Cordival, the cook, be needing a hand.”
Elec made his way below deck to the galley, where the rich aroma of simmering stew and fresh bread filled the air. The cramped kitchen space was a hive of activity, with pots clanging and the Halfling cook darting about like a whirlwind. The stout Halfling, his sleeves rolled up, and a bandana tied around his head, glanced at Elec as he entered.
“Ah, the sorcerer lad,” the cook said with a raised eyebrow. “Didn’t think you’d darken Ol’ Saltpot’s galley, but if you’re here to help, I won’t complain. I could use another set of hands.”
The Halfling pointed to a stack of buckets near the corner.
“See those? Fresh water from the storage hold. Haul ’em here, two at a time, and don’t spill a drop. Then grab the sack of potatoes by the door and start peeling. And for the gods’ sake, try not to nick yourself with the knife. I don’t need blood in my stew.”
The cook continued stirring a pot, muttering to himself as he tossed herbs and spices into the mix. With a steady hand and sure footing, Elec picked up two of the heavy buckets and began carrying them from the lower hold to the galley. The ship rocked gently beneath him, but his natural grace and sharp reflexes kept him balanced. Not a single drop spilled as he navigated the narrow passageways and the stairs leading to the galley. The cook glanced over as Elec set the buckets down near the preparation table. He raised an impressed eyebrow.
“Well now, that’s a first. No splashing, no cursing, and no mess. Either you’re showing off, or you’ve done this before.”
Elec grabbed the next pair of buckets and repeated the process, maintaining the same flawless precision. By the time he’d finished, the stack of full buckets gleamed, ready for the cook to use. The halfling gave a satisfied grunt.
“Not bad, wild one. That’s one chore done. Now grab that sack of potatoes and get to peeling. Pick a knife that feels good in your hand. And remember, fast’s good, but clean’s better.”
Elec picked a sturdy knife, its handle fitting comfortably in his hand, and began peeling the potatoes with careful precision. It may not have been like his kitchen back home, but there was a bit of hominess to it that helped ease his gloom. He kept his movements smooth and stripped the potatoes of their skins, ready to add them to whatever stew the cook had planned. The rhythmic motion of peeling helped him focus, and the occasional clink of the knife against the cutting board provided a comforting backdrop to the otherwise quiet galley.
As he worked, Elec asked, “Do raiders and pirates trouble this ship often?”
The cook paused for a moment, his hands stilling the stirring of the stewpot as he looked at Elec with a slight rueful expression.
“Pirates? Aye, they come around every so often. The seas aren’t as safe as they once were, but we’ve got a good crew, and the Sea Sprinter is fast. They usually look for easier targets. Slow merchant ships or ones with more cargo to steal. We’ve been lucky recently, though.”
He continued to stir the pot, adding more spices with a practiced hand.
“But trouble’s never far away, lad. The sea changes quickly, and you can’t always trust the horizon. Some days you’re just one unlucky turn away from a fight.”
He offered a glance, and a small grin appeared.
“But, hey, if it’s a fight you’re looking for, you’re in the right place. We’ve got a few men aboard who know how to handle themselves if things go south. And a lady as well.”
Elec continued peeling, the weight of the cook’s words settling in. The open sea is indeed full of unpredictability, and this journey is only beginning to reveal its dangers. Granted, I embarrassed myself by vomiting afterwards, I was able to hold off an entire ship with just an illusion, he thought.
“A few ships troubled us in the past. Nothing too major since I’ve been aboard, but there have been some close calls. Some merchants don’t pay attention to the signs, and when they’re caught out in the open, it’s too late by the time they realize what’s happening.”
He paused, his expression darkening as he added another pinch of herbs to the stew. Cordival must not get much company, Elec thought. I should come over and visit more often.
“Once, a pirate ship tried to board us. The captain wasn’t having it, though. He’s not the type to back down. We fought ‘em off and had some of our crew take down their mast with ballista fire, and the raiders didn’t stand a chance after that. We made it out with some damage, but not enough to stop us.”
“The Sea Sprinter has ballistas?” Elec asked, surprised.
“We have platform enough for two, but this time around, he had to leave them in port to haul more cargo. It’s a good thing we brought you aboard, though. Would’ve been a different matter fighting off the raiders with nothing more than crossbows.”
He tapped the side of the pot with the ladle.
“But you’re here now, and the Sea Sprinter can take care of herself as long as we’re ready. Just stay sharp and keep your wits about you, lad.”
Elec worked steadily, peeling the potatoes with precision until the cook had the required amount. The rhythmic motion helped clear his mind, and the steady work allowed him a brief respite from the tension of the day. The savory aroma of the stew filled the air, making Elec’s stomach rumble.
“Good job, lad. That’s all I needed. You’ve got the knack for this, even if it’s a bit beneath your usual adventures.”
He took the potatoes and started adding them to the stew, the savory fragrance growing even stronger.
“Now, go ahead and wash your hands. After that, I’ll have a bowl of stew and some bread if you’re hungry. Can’t have you working on an empty stomach, after all.”
He washed at the small basin near the galley and returned to the cook, who was busy ladling the hearty stew into a wooden bowl. The warm, savory scent of the meal filled the air, and the sight of the bread, crusty and freshly baked, tempted Elec’s appetite further. The cook handed him the bowl with a grin.
“There you go, lad. Eat up. You’ve earned it. Don’t be shy, it’s a good batch today.”
Elec took the bowl, sitting down at a small table in the galley. The first spoonful of stew was rich and flavorful, with tender chunks of meat and vegetables, perfectly seasoned. The stew he ate in the galley was a stark contrast to the bowls served to him on deck. Those times, they had been decent enough, but watery and cold after a short while. The bread, soft on the inside with a crisp crust, complemented the meal. I think I’ll have to help out around the galley more often, Elec thought. It seems the stew is much better closer to the source. After finishing the hearty stew, Elec stood and gave the cook a polite nod.
“Thank you for the meal and for letting me help out.”
Saltpot waved him off with a grin.
“Bah, no need for thanks, lad. You did your part, and it’s good to see someone pull their weight. Not too many swabs enjoy the inglorious tasks I have. If you ever feel like hauling more water or peeling spuds, you know where to find me!”
With a faint chuckle, Elec left the galley and made his way past the napping sailors and back to his tiny section of the hold. Sitting down on his cot, he reached for the sturdy lockbox he’s kept secured since leaving Hinterson’s Vale.
The box, made of dark wood reinforced with iron bands, still held the mysterious artifacts he had recovered from the shipwreck. Producing the small key, Elec unlocked the box with a soft click. He opened the lid, revealing the cloth-wrapped artifacts nestled inside. The Ornate Compass. The Cruel Dagger. He shifted the contents around, moving the cloth cushioning in search of the last artifact. With a sigh, he touched the humming warmth of the last artifact hiding around his neck once more. The Pendant. For a moment, Elec considered the surviving sailor’s tale of the silent, black-hulled ship and its supernatural crew; the story that led to these objects being in his possession.
Elec opened the cover of the compass, expecting the needle to be spinning erratically, as it had every other time he’d checked it. However, this time the needle behaved differently. It stopped spinning and twitched, bouncing back and forth as though it was struggling to decide on a direction. After a moment, it steadied itself, pointing firmly toward a specific bearing.
The runes engraved along the compass’s edges glowed, their light pulsing in time with the compass needle’s trembling movements. The behavior change was subtle but unmistakable. Something caused the compass to lock onto a direction, and the faint hum of energy from the pendant seemed to confirm that something was nearby. He marked in his journal the phenomenon, this being the first time the compass had displayed such clarity since he had found it.
Elec secured the lockbox and returned it to its place below his cot. He returned to the main deck. The fresh breeze greeted him as he found a quiet spot along the rail. Producing the compass from his pocket, he flipped open its cover once again. The needle remained steady, pointing unwaveringly toward the same bearing it had locked onto below deck. The faint glow of the runes around its edge persisted, pulsing softly, as though resonating with some unseen force.
He squinted his eyes, aligning the sighting notches on the case with the compass’s direction. He scanned the gloom on the horizon, following the bearing to see if anything unusual lay along that path. Elec focused, aligning with the direction indicated and caught something unusual on the horizon.
A faint silhouette, partially obscured by the gloom and distance. At first, it appeared to be a small, jagged rock formation jutting out of the sea, but as Elec continued to observe, he noticed subtle signs of movement. Something unnatural. On top of all that, very curious.
Elec placed the compass back in his pocket and went to the first mate and pointed out the irregularity.
“Excuse me…Olg…ran, but do you happen to know what that shape is over on the horizon?”
Ograrn’s sharp eyes narrowed at the question as he followed Elec’s gesture toward the distant silhouette on the horizon. He took the spyglass from the pouch on his belt, and the seasoned sailor took a long look at the irregular shape. After a moment, he lowered the spyglass and frowned.
“Huh. That’s no rock formation, that’s for sure. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the remains of a shipwreck or some sort of debris out there on the reefs. Could be nothin’. Just debris from some poor vessel lost to the sea.”
He squinted at the horizon again, his expression thoughtful as he looked over the top of the instrument.
“But the way the water’s moving around it? That’s not natural. Could be a strong current or a reef underneath, but it feels…off. Why do you ask? Something about it caught your eye?”
Elec took a moment to assess how much he should reveal of his true quest to the first mate. He made a promise to the survivor of the Waveshear that he would keep the events and evidence a secret until he found the right scholar or historian to help unravel the mystery.
“I am by no means careless enough, or competent enough, to even hazard a chance to ask to explore what it could be, but can you show me how to mark its spot on my map to investigate later?”
“Smart lad. The sea’s got enough dangers without jumpin’ at the unknown without proper preparation. But you’re wise to mark it. Who knows what secrets it might hold?”
He gestured for Elec to retrieve his map, then pulled a well-worn compass and a charcoal stick from his belt pouch.
“Alright, let me show you how to plot it. First, we take into account our route and distance traveled, which is about here. Then we get a bearing on the shipwreck. You’re lookin’ at the horizon, so use the compass for the direction: looks like it’s about… northeast by east.” He said, pointing at his compass, indicating how to align the needle properly and the tiny numbers etched along the rim.
“Now, estimate the distance. We’re movin’ steady at about six knots, and that spot looks to be just under two hours away, so figure maybe twelve nautical miles out.”
He took the Mariner’s map and, with a quick motion, marked a small X on the estimated location. Around it, he drew a few waves to signify the irregular waters Elec described.
“There. That’ll give you a fair idea where to find it again, assuming the weather doesn’t shift too much.”
Handing the map back to Elec, the first mate patted him on the shoulder.
“Curiosity’s a fine thing, but the sea don’t reward the careless. Good on you for thinkin’ ahead. When you’ve got the time and a ship ready for somethin’ like that, it might be worth a look later on.”
Elec thanked the first mate and headed back to his quiet spot along the rail. With the coordinates now noted, he once again observed the distant shape. He took out his journal from a pouch on his belt and annotated his findings. The ship moved through the water, and the object on the horizon remained in view for some time. Elec continued to study the shape in the distance, he outline seemed to be the remains of a shipwreck. Above the surface, what appeared to be broken masts were visible, while the hull’s jagged remnants stuck out of the water. The uneven water movement around it still appeared suspicious, though it’s more than just a current. The subtle ripples near the wreck suggested something larger beneath the surface, perhaps lurking in a sunken part of the ship or something else. As Elec watched, the shape seemed to shift slightly as if affected by a gentle current, making it difficult to discern whether it was stationary or moving with the water.
Elec closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall the many stories and bits of knowledge from his father’s library. His mind ran through the various texts on creatures of the sea. Many of the myths, legends, and factual accounts of the creatures that inhabit the waters came to mind. The Leviathan: A legendary sea creature said to dwell in the deepest parts of the ocean, often associated with strange water disturbances and shifting wrecks. It’s said to cause whirlpools and massive disruptions in the water’s flow. However, ancient myths only speak of these creatures, and people, if ever, encounter them. The Kraken: Another feared sea creature, this one a giant cephalopod. Legends say its tentacles drag entire ships under, creating unpredictable currents and large whirlpools. However, the Kraken prefers deeper waters, far from the shoreline. Sunken Ships and Water Spirits: In more mundane accounts, there are references to sunken ships becoming “haunted” by water spirits or attracting smaller creatures like giant squids or hydras, which sometimes lurk near wrecks, attracted by the disturbance or treasure within. These creatures often cause strange water movements as they feed or protect their lairs.
None of these creatures matched the strange disturbance Elec had observed, but there’s enough mystery here to suggest that something unnatural might be present. Something that could explain the irregular currents and the odd behavior of the wreck.
The morning gave way to midday. As Elec manned the hoist with Drunars, the Half-orc who was raised in a monastery on the mainland, and Kol, the striking and muscular female Human from Svinic. Together, they pulled in cadence with Gorlin’s command. When they hoisted the haul, a large grey fish almost as large as Efriit himself bumped against the rail as they lifted it high above the deck. Cordival watched, sharpening a knife. Elec himself could not help but wipe a bit of drool from his lip as he watched the cook slice a steak from the side of the massive fish, showing everyone the very dark red meat with a very thick layer of fat between the meat and the scale. The crew gave a hearty cheer, though Elec suspected they did not know how properly to value the meat. Regardless, fresh fish was much better than cured meat stew, hands down.
A melodious whistle came from the crow’s nest. All the crew’s eyes turned to the bow. Another cheer went up through the crew, and this time, Elec was the one not truly knowing the reason.
“Oh, don’t look so lost, swab,” Drunars said, clapping Elec on the shoulder. “We’ve just sighted land.”
The whistle trilled once more, and Elec joined the cheer in earnest now. Granted, the haze of another rain front kind of obscured it; they were now in Pelavor Bay proper. While his time amongst the crew helped shed the doldrums he had fallen under, he now felt true elation. His time at sea would soon end.
“Oy!” Came a voice from the crow’s nest. “Flotsam!”
The crew moved to the rails. Littered throughout their wake were boards and barrels floating freely. Remnants from a vessel ruined somewhere far off. Elec guessed the debris might have come from the shipwreck he had mapped out before. There was a sharp whistle from the aft deck. Captain Jorn motioned for Elec to join him and Ograrn on the deck next to the helm. The first mate trained his spyglass on something to the right, starboard that is, and watched it. Elec, shielding his eyes, looked in that direction to see a large flock of seagulls hovering over a tight mess of debris.
“Here, lad,” Ograrn said, offering the spyglass once more. “Those green eyes of yours see farther than mine.”
Elec raised the spyglass and focused on the area where the birds were hovering over what appeared to be a small, capsized rowboat, floating nearer the shoreline. The hull of the boat showed thorough battering, and an oar was missing, with the other drifting nearby. The birds swooped low and dived into the water, as if spilled food or something else drew their attention. As Elec adjusted the spyglass, he noticed something else: a dark shape slumped over the top of the rowboat. It appeared to be a body, though from this distance, it’s impossible to tell if it’s alive or dead. The water around the boat is eerily dark, contrasting with the birds’ frantic activity. Something’s not right, Elec thought as the first mate took a step closer.
“What do you see, lad? Trouble?”
“Trouble, but I do not know what it’s about. There’s a rowboat floating between here and the shore with someone aboard, though I cannot tell if the person is living or not.”
James C Gilliam 