by J P Nelson
Then suddenly … I’m alone, all about me is the sensation of fear and unseen terror. My eyes are closed and I can’t open them to see. All is still and black and I began to cry. I can’t form words with which to call my momma to hand.
Screams of rage erupt all around me and my skin begins to prickle from energy within the air. My body is struck with a blunt force I don’t understand and I began to tumble in my nothingness, out of control.
Wildly thrashing my arms and legs, I can’t command my limbs to function. Abruptly I’m seized by giant hands and all but smothered, so I almost can’t hear my own frightful cries. I then feel myself plummeting downward, downward into a great abyss only to be caught by an unknown force.
Upside down and wrapped tightly so that I can’t move, I feel something close beyond my feet and draw me tightly into a cocoon. I still can’t open my eyes, but somehow I can see … I see upward through my cocoon the form of a giant, a giant with a dull flame emanating from within.
The giant is looking down at me and I can see it has no eyes. Instead there are large and empty dark places where the eyes should be. I’m being carried by what must be a demon, a minion of Hades, and I’m being taken away.
The demon is now speaking in muffled words I don’t understand and its voice is hideous. Then it seems we are flying through the now foreboding darkness. Through a wall of fire we hurtle, and then I saw the steed of flame. It rears and hooves of shiny coal circle and paw the air as it spins about, kicking and screaming of its own rage.
Upon this beast my captor climbs, and into the deepest darkness we make way. For what seems like an eternity we travel, seeking the doorway to Hades as thunder rolls.
My captor’s fire mingles with emerald lightning and a horrible stench that burns my nostrils. I can smell charred flesh and beastly sweat. The screams of many voices mingle in my ears. Ghostly faces of those who have died by my hand penetrate my cocoon, each for moments at a time … their faces are like moaning, flaming skulls with eyes of black fire as they gnash their teeth …
Boney fingers with half rotting flesh reach in to grab me, I feel their touch as I scream in fear … then they are ripped away as my captor carries me by gallop to eternal damnation.
Among the ghouls I see Deborah’s face crying to me for help … Hoscoe stares at me as he holds his heart, then pulls it out of his chest to hand to me; as he hands it to me it bursts into black flame, which trails up his arm then consumes him.
A woman’s hand bursts through the ground beneath a rotting apple tree; then my momma crawls from the dirt, maggots dripping from her body as a long worm crawls from her mouth … a man turns, but it is not a man, it is someone who looks just like me, but half of his face is missing and his hair drips with blood; my twin, no, he sneers at me and says, “You left me behind … I’m coming for you …”
Then a girl of thirteen years, it’s Dorna, rises up from the ground on her hands and knees … she is bloody, battered, and she asks, “Do you not even care?” She draws a dagger from her side and plunges it into her chest … again … again … and again as she leans her head back and cries, “Please make it end … make it stop!”
The demon stallion’s mane and tail are like living fire; his eyes are empty sockets like its rider. His hooves beat a tempo upon the ground which pounds terror into my soul … and then we enter the River Styx. Into the nether-world of death and the living dead we are bound, as my own cries of anguish go unheeded.
The ice-cold waters of the black river reach up to touch me, then in my darkness I feel a violent force overtake my demon and the horse from Hades is overcome by Cherron, himself. Into the River Styx we’re all cast and I fall from my captor’s grasp ... but I’m not free ...
Into the waters where the living may not cross I sink … until a searing pain shocks its way into my right shoulder, then my lower back, yet I am still bound in my cocoon and can’t move as I am carried into the swift moving current.
Black water begins to fill my lungs and my screams are garbled with drowning, then the river carries me to the Great Abyss as I fall … and fall … and fall …
___________________________
With a gasp for air and a violent thrashing of arms and legs, I found myself in mid-air. Forcing my eyes wide open into full wakefulness, I saw the floor rising up to meet me … fast. I hit with a three-count bump, which in terms of a break-fall is not good, not good at all, and struck my face solid against the wooden floor.
My breath was ragged and I was drenched in a terrified sweat. From my hands and knees I saw my hammock still swinging in chaos, the top sheet billowing as it settled into place, the floor seemed to move beneath me and the smell of salt and fish was in the air. On the other side of the small room a pair of eyes was wide and open, watching me from under their covers.
Where was I? I expected a snake or something to emerge from the opposite covers … or a ghost … or a face full of worms … anything. I really wanted to wake up.
Before I had taken two breaths, the door behind me suddenly opened. Still in a mental state of smothering panic, I felt my hand grasp the haft of my sword which rested by my hammock. Operating by sheer instinct and years of training, I sought the demon in my dream as the sh-h-hing-g-g of my blade and the whis-s-sp-p-p of its movement in the air sounded as one … ending with point of the razor sharp tip literally touching the teenage sailor’s throat.
The boy had the presence of mind to stop dead still in his track, pardon the play on word. His eyes were wide in shock and surprise, and he saw mine, still ringed from the heart-pounding horror of my ascetic nightmare.
Swiftly, yet with absolute calm and tranquility, Wesney was out of his hammock and across the floor, clad in what he referred to as his jammies and his hair looking like a whisk-broom. Without giving me a glance, he gingerly took the tip of my sword in his thumb and forefinger, eased it away from the lad’s throat, and said in a smooth yet authoritative way, “Seaman Oliver, you should know better than to enter an officer’s quarters unannounced, especially when the door is closed. Have you forgotten your Ship’s Statutes?”
I was still breathing harsh and trying desperately to get my mind under control, but my body was tense and quivering. From head to toe I was soaked as if just out under a down-pouring, and the air was relatively cool.
Oliver was recovering much better than I was as he caught his breath and replied, “Aye, sur. Tis my faul’, indeed. An’ ah haven’ forgotten my statutes …” He glanced to me then back to Wesney, “… my given’s, please sur, bu’ the cap’n wishes to speak wi’ Mis’r Wolf a’bow, shim-shai!”
‘Shim-shai,’ I thought to myself, south-sea’s lingo for very quickly, but not necessarily life or death. Almost like saying straightway, or something to the effect. In any case, the captain wanted to see me as quick as I could get up there.
I glanced at Wesney, who was still holding the tip of my sword, who in turn glanced at me, and as I ever-so-slightly nodded him my acknowledgement he looked back to Oliver and said in his still calm but firm voice, “Shim-shai it is. Carry on.”
“Thank you, sur.”
Oliver glanced at me again, then touching his fist against his forehead and saluted Wesney, he backed a step through the door. As he was about to walk away Wesney said, “Seaman Oliver …”
“Aye, sur?”
“I will not make a report of this.”
With a relieved, yet nervous sigh, Oliver said, “Thank you, sur. Shan’t happen again, sur.” And with another salute he backed away while closing the door.
Still holding my sword tip, Wesney gazed me full in the eye while pushing the blade further away and down to point toward the floor. With that same unwavering calm voice he said, “I think it is time we discussed these dreams of yours.”
I drew myself up and inhaled deeply as my body shuddered one last time, held the breath, and tried to exhale slow and steady. “Yeah …” I replied, “… maybe that would be a good idea.
In two shakes of a r
at’s tail I was dressed and stepping upon main-deck. In spite of the moonsless night and heavy fog, we were moving at a fast clip.
I took a deep breath of the misty, salt air and luxuriated for a moment at the roll of the ship upon the sea, but only a moment. Captain Jha’Ley was not an impatient man, but he wasn’t one to perambulate meaningless words. What I mean is, if he said he needed to see me shim-shai, then that’s exactly what he meant.
Quickly I walked the distance to where Jha’Ley was intently gazing into the fog off the starboard bow. He ran this ship like a military operation from the beginning, and I was now a warrant officer. The only person I technically answered to was the captain, and none of the official chain of command had to salute me. But the crew was required to. It isn’t what I wanted, but so be it.
Oliver’s saluting Wesney was from personal shock on his part. My friend was an officer, but as physician it wasn’t required to give him such a gesture. As I briskly walked the deck I received salutes and nodded my head in reception.
The ship was quiet, but alive. I mean, all you could hear was the sound of the surf, the ropes of the sails and sounds of the sailors as they whisked from chore to chore. The human eye couldn’t see much more than five or ten rods, at best, but those sailors knew their jobs and were among the finest in their profession. They trusted each other, and needed too.
Most any vessel would be sailed slow in the water with no more visibility than we had, but Captain Jann Raul Jha’Ley was no ordinary seaman. He had a savvy about the ocean that would make you think he was a part of it. And his way with his crew … there were those who would leave all they had for the chance to sail under his command, and several aboard the ship had done just that.
Stepping up along the right side of the captain I peered into the deep fog, seeking what he may be studying upon. I need say nothing to him, for he knew I was there, so I waited in the quiet for him to speak as we both looked across the rail.
I was still shaky from the incident with Oliver. That boy almost died. Granted, he shouldn’t have barged in like that, but still …
It had been days since the encounter with the Argon Stag, but twice we were set back with more storms. I heard Jha’Ley make comment more than a question, “Miu’Ganté Comveri, ‘Tabb, where are these storms coming from? I have never seen it like this.”
I never picked up on G’Tabb’s response, I was thinking of my own unusualities … namely strange nausea and sudden bouts of pain, a burning pain that erupted in my core and spread throughout the rest of my body. They might last for seconds or as long as a minute, then fade away. It brought me in mind of the experience with Meidra, but different. I got lightheaded, but no severe headaches or memory loss … at least I don’t think I had any memory loss.
The attacks came and went so fast I couldn’t trace the source, and there was nothing to heal afterward. I had a feeling, though, they were connected to the elements … So’Yeth in particular.
Wesney stayed worried, but the good thing was … I was the only one having the attacks. And I was the only one with such pronounced visions of others, like ghosts … and what was I doing seeing momma on board, and her talking to me as well … and what was mohnutha? And … and … and … I was mystified.
As we looked into the heavy mist, Jha’Ley asked, “I am going to broach question again just to say I broached it again … are you sure you detect or feel nothing magical? This just does not feel right.”
Shaking my head I replied, “No … I’m sorry.”
He rubbed his face, then around his head and said, “I need some sleep …” he looked at me and I could see the haggard expression and deep circles under his eyes as he added, “I would like you to focus that elvin vision and wonderful perception out there. If anything … and I mean anything … weird, against your feeling of nature, or you see a vessel of any kind out there … you order beat-to-quarters.”
I tongued my upper gums, looked to the water, then nodded my head in understanding.
“Very well Tedub, you have the con …” and he walked away.
Great! I had the con of the most powerful vessel on the sea. I was not overjoyed.
Caroll came up behind me and said, “You shall do well, Tedub.”
Politely I replied, “Thank you Mister Caroll. Can I ask you a question?”
“I shall fathom my best attempt of answer.”
I pointed down, over the side and asked with apprehension, “What is this stuff out here called?”
He looked over, thought a moment, then in a very serious tone looked to me and replied, “This is called … wa-ter.”
I looked back over and said with relief, “Oh-h-h … whew … I wasn’t sure. I’m thirsty, can I get a drink?”
Caroll winked at me and walked off to make rounds.
Tedub, that’s what most of them were calling me now. It’s a two-way anachronism for TW, Tactical Warrant Officer, and TW for my own name, Timber Wolf. Tedub is easier to say than tee-double-you, and the crew seemed to like it. They could refer to me officially, personally, or indirectly and not have to say mister. It’s okay, I guess … and a whole lot better than Sed, especially Sed with a whistle.
I spent much of the time ambling along the rails, walking the length of the fore-deck, around the main, up the poop and around the other side; at all times peering through the thick veil of cloud. It was natural, but not naturally created, sort of, in my way of thinking.
Normally, walking like this I would be lost in my own thoughts. But I had the con … anything that happened was my responsibility. I was an elf … or rather half-elf … unless I got killed I had time on my hands to contemplate personal issues later.
Oliver brought me a coffee. He was just a bit nervous, but he did and it was perfect. Hodges must be on duty, he knew just how I liked my drink.
I said, “Thank you. Hey, listen … I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Saimea suh … thank you, suh.”
He saluted me and I returned the gesture, then he went about his way. I saw Dy’Nda come upon deck. There was still a lot to learn about her. At four-foot-ten-inches-tall, she looked equally as wide in the shoulders. Her footing wasn’t the best on deck, but that could be learned. Why would she want to serve with Jha’Ley? I’m not detracting from that, but d’warvec were rare to see out of the north mountains of Aeshea, and I understood she was from Rok’Shutai.
Dy’Nda was quiet and reserved; fine, I had no problem with that. But she was stronger than Caroll and storm-for-thunder in combat training. Her speech was broken really bad in Longish, but she could make conversation … when she made conversation. I noticed she kept giving me and the half-orgs the eye. Well, I could understand that. Elves and d’warvec were not historically known for getting along. But she made no negative advances. I think Kumar wanted to, but I also noticed Garth would give him the elbow to shut up.
But I gave no thought to any of that while on watch.
I was on the poop, watching one of the Jhuosai, an affable fellow named Sich, handle the wheel, when a blink of light high in the sky caught my attention. I thought, ‘What the …?’
The light wasn’t white, blue, yellow or green … but butterscotch in color … it was …it was … a star? Suddenly my insides were seized by the worst pains yet. Clutching my gut I spun to one knee like a top. I felt as if I were on fire with something trying to tear the intestines from my body.
A man was beside me, helping me to the port rail, “Tedub, are you alight sir?!”As I opened my eyes and incidentally looked down … I saw it. The ocean floor far below was lined with glowing red lines and was … it was … I wretched and my right hand began to tremble, I feared a convulsion was coming. Yelling was on my mind, but all I could muster was a groaning, “Beat to quarters!”
The pulsing pain ran all through me. Then I was drawn to stare at the orb to left of the wheel … it was spinning … reaching … calling to me. I saw through the orb into a different place … another realm? No … another deck … and th
ere were hundreds of elves, sitting at oars, looking at me.
Jha’Ley was in front of me, grabbing me by the shoulders and yelling to get my attention, “What?! What is it Wolf? Talk to me man, what is it?!”
Telroy was there, hurriedly stuffing his shirt into his pants, and Caroll was running up the stairs.
The pain wracked through me again, a kneeling, screaming groan coming from my lips. I fought to reach over the side and point, “The floor … it’s coming apart … I see the seams …”
The water churned and lightning coursed the sky with a boom of thunder right above our heads. I convulsed and landed on my knees. Something exploded from below as a bomb of lava shot up from the sea, narrowly missing the Lohri.
Jha’Ley exclaimed, “Fenko ma’nuri! Wolf … which way, which way is it going?!”
My hands were trembling as I pointed, another bolt of lightning crossed the sky, then it seemed a bolt came up from the ocean itself. Jha’Ley was yelling orders, Telroy slid down the stair rails by hand and hit the deck running, I felt the orb reaching to me again.
The last words I could comprehend were someone saying, “That will take us into V’Pohra Tanzhi …”
The orb … the orb wanted me to touch it. I hurt, but the pain wanted to go to the orb. So’Yeth was crying out through me. I touched the spinning orb and it stopped … then it sucked me in.
It was like the time with Hoscoe, my essence ripped through my hands and into the ship. I became one with the Lohra Lai … sort of. Her hull felt like my skin, I could see through the eyes of the bowsprit figure, I became aware of more within her hull. But right then … right that moment, I only knew we were in grave danger and needed speed.
I had seen rows upon rows of elves sitting at oars, but wait, these were wooden elves. I thought, ‘Oars … oars … oars!’ I yelled through my mind, [Row, damn it, row!]
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