by Peter Green
A creaking of the dry, salted, ropes and timbers, a ruffling of sails, as sheets were tied and mooring lines released. A shifting of the boom as the first gust filled the mainsail, and the tiller turned with the prow pointing seaward.
“Magnificent!” exhorted Amergin aloud. Gracefully the flagship began to glide out through the mirrored sea. Each harboured vessel in turn began to release from their moorings. Poignantly each prow pointed to the Northern horizon.
The fleet, a hundred strong, tacked en masse and soon they reached the harbour entrance, the Port of Jaisur resplendent in the warming sun.
Each thirty strong crew, on board each vessel, turned to see loved ones waving them farewell, waving them onwards to the promised-land, to the island of destiny. Exhilarated, happy and honoured to be on such a journey, but deeply saddened to be leaving their loved ones. Tears of joy and sadness welled up in their eyes, their hearts bursting with excitement, but breaking with heartache, joyful anticipation with underlying anxiety of the unknown.
The open sea soon rallied their thoughts and emotions to the task at hand, the first strong windward tack into the freshening westerly ocean breeze. The vessels leaned into the tack, the Port of Jaisur, the Temple of Japhet and the Tower of Galicia steadily disappearing into the distance.
Like a well oiled machine, the fleet manned by a race of mariners, danced synchronicitously between the dipping and rising wavelengths of the deep ocean swell. The weather and sea gods were smiling on the mariners of Milesia that day. The portents were good. Amergin smiled and shouted encouragement to his crew.
Once away from the familiar landmarks, Amergin took charge of the tiller. He knew the way. He would navigate by his instincts and senses, following the path of the sun, the wind and the flow of the currents and tides. The coordinates of the lunar eclipse had been marked on astral and planetary charts descended from Tolemei and the ancient astronomers. Occasionally he would consult with one of the mystics onboard the vessel, and look to strengthen his spiritual guidance by referring to the tomes “Biblios” and “Spirituu” and theological references to their place in the cosmos. Always there would be a representative of the Xantha on deck and one of the Chapter of Mystics. Between them, Amergin hypothesized, they would provide guidance and an early warning of any changes and shifts in the otherworldly veil. Changes and shifts that will present real danger to the fleet…
A pod of white-sided dolphin surfaced, danced and leapt in the bow wake of the flagship, the lowering afternoon sun sending rainbows in the spray of each cresting wave. At the last hour of daylight Amergin took out the astral charts, and with each flash of a mirror sent out coordinates to the next vessel.
He watched as the message flashed down the line of the fleet, now spread majestically to the southern horizon.
He envisaged each captain, Milidh, Scota, Eiremhou and Eimbear receiving and acknowledging the signal, setting their course by the charts and the first flickering stars and planets appearing in the darkening skies. As the sun finally extinguished over the north-western horizon, a gust of wind came unexpectedly from the south-west. Each of the vessels of the fleet leaned away from the gust, their white-cream sails of elegant Phoenician design flexing, now tinged with the roseate palette of the setting sun.
The pink, red and orange hues fringing the white fingers of cloud caressing the horizon were now showing indigos and violets as dusk approached. A tell-tale band of mackerel flashed, white, stratospheric clouds moved quickeningly towards them, and beyond a darkening shadow crawled ominously into the skyscape.
Xomas, the diligent and faithful first officer was justifiably concerned. They and the fleet were heading into the night with potentially the first storm of the journey approaching fast. “We need to be fully prepared”, he urgently advised Amergin, “the strength of the storm is unknown…”
Afiente, the mystic resident on board the flagship, concurred with Xomas. Amergin sensed this mystic was of good heart and spirit, unlike his high priest Gonne. Accordingly, Amergin instructed Xomas to light the warning beacon sending word to the fleet of the impending storm. Each captain on each vessel had sensed the change. They were all only too aware that they were facing the fury of mother-nature.
However, Amergin was disturbed by Afiente’s final comment, “You need to be wary my Lord, that this oncoming storm may be used as a veil to conceal even darker, greater, and more sinister powers of the Sidhe.”
Lolling, rolling, gliding, cresting and riding each wave moving from West to East, sailing ahead of the chasing storm. The wind was strengthening from the south-west, pushing the entire fleet onwards to the unknown.
Dark has descended. The moon seems to hurtle through the scurrying clouds. Stark silver-white moonlight catches the surging, cresting and sometimes breaking waves. Silver-white horses appear across the now turbulent ocean. The sleek white-sailed vessels tip and twist with each ever strengthening gust and building swell.
Amergin, and his first officer Xomas, stand braced and now lashed to the tiller. With each surging swell, they line the bow up and surf from crest to trough. The storm rigging now in place, the fair weather sails furled. The crew sent below for safety. Amergin and Xomas stay with the tiller. This will be a long night, concentration of the essence, one lapse and the ship could be broadsided and lost.
The sea and tide are running high. Monstrous squalls appear as black walls in the moonlight. They arrive with venomous force, sheer through and are gone into the distance. Xomas keeps an anxious weather eye on the south -west horizon. Amergin grips and hangs on to the tiller for dear life.
Suddenly a strange lull befalls the fleet. Terese of the Xantha came up on deck. Xomas studied her as she swayed over to the tiller to discourse with Amergin. A proud, athletic beauty, a warrior to the core, her usual calm exterior was now flustered and anxious. A member of the fearless and fiercesome Xantha, she now appeared scared. She urgently confided with Amergin, as he continued to fight with the cresting waves. “My Lord, I have sensed a shift in the veil, the dark forces of the Sidhe are breaking through under the mask of the storm!”Her voice carried with the now screaming wind. Amergin caught the occasional word, but the message was brutally clear. As Amergin turned to relay the warning to Xomas, Terese shouted the alarm, “On the south-western horizon! Look!! They come!!!”
Now they all looked. A black wall on the south-western horizon, a dark shadow extended to the ocean.
The horizon was moving!! Amergin too sensed the dark forces of the Sidhe at work.
Amergin instinctively lit the distress/warning beacon at the stern of the vessel, and instructed Xomas to get the crew to lash everything down and batten the hatches.
The entire fleet were warned and braced for danger. All the captains of the fleet, Scota and Milidh, the royal princes, knew they were in danger. They saw the oncoming squall even in the blackness, as the moon broke the cloud cover. They also saw the swirling, heightening, body of dark silver moving as one with the ocean. They collectively knew that this was no natural event.
Each vessel turned to face the squall and an immense raging rogue wave. All rigging was stripped and everyone bar the essential crew sent below. All hatches and portholes were tightly secured.
The captains and first officers were lashed to each tiller. They were in survival mode. The lives of all depended on their ability to keep straight on to this tsunami like wave.
Amergin gripped Xomas’s arm and looked into his worried eyes, “Be brave Xomas, we must call on our innermost strength. and pray to the great spirit for our salvation. We are not alone!”
The vessels stripped down and everything secure, strengthening gusts of hurricane force started to tear in.
Amergin and Xomas bent low into the storm force conditions. The flagship lined up to take the brunt of the storm on. They would be the first to take the wave on. Amergin resolved not to release the tiller as long as there was a breath of life in him. At the last moment he lashed the tiller into position. The prow, the tiller,
the keel must be in line as they push up the face of the rearing aqueous monster.
Onwards, surging, gathering, rearing, five times mast height, the rogue wave came…
It seemed to be a living entity, intent on their demise. The flagship climbed and climbed, lined up, prow pointing skywards. If the wave crested they were gone. Amergin shouted above the tempest, “Great Spirit save us!!!” To the heavens they rose. Up and up, Crashing, breaking, roaring.Timbers straining, the vessel flexing, they punched through, piercing the lip of the wave. Tons of thunderous water and foam washed through, the deck awash. Amergin and Xomas, still braced and lashed, kept the tiller steady.Straining every sinew and muscle.White with effort and strain.
The ship finally fell into the turbulence of the trough. Amergin quickly unlashed the tiller and took control, ready for the swirling aftermath of the watery behemoth.
Amergin watched as the tempestuous squall and the silver black wall of water went crashing on. This was something demonic and unnatural. He knew that the elements were being ushered and conjured by unseen forces, against the Milesian fleet. He prayed for the rest of the fleet, as one by one each vessel rode out the storm front. Massive waves still followed the first monster. The eye of the storm still seemed to be gathering, a malevolent force cutting a swathe through the fleet. The next ship punched through the near cresting lip. Fortitude was required. The royal vessels made it through, Scota, Milidh, Eiremhou and Eimbear all unscathed so far.Far away on the South West horizon, a glimmer of hope, a chink of light, the back of the storm front.
Amergin kept praying. One more boat appeared over the back of the monster wave, one more to safety.
He’d lost count now, how many had made it? How many of the fleet had got to safety? At that moment he saw the wave rear up, drawn up to the blackness above, the final act of their evil tormentors.The storm and the Sidhe in conjunction, the wave and the squall in full collusion.
Oceans of water pitched and crested, a tumbling furious waterfall consumed two of the vessels of the fleet. Nothing they could do. The wave swept them over broadsides, pitching and rolling. Masts snapped, they rolled again, and were pushed deep into the wave, and were sunk, disappearing without a trace.
Only later did objects and remains start to surface. Not a person was found. No survivors. No bodies.No one. It was as if they were taken from this world. Consumed, buried in a watery grave. A frightening and foreboding thought flashed through Amergin’s mind. He was reminded, how as a young prince and contender for the Milesian champion, he was warned by the Chapter of Mystics, that the wrong choice, a wrong move, would permit the Sidhe to take lives away. The Sidhe would then possess and own these unfortunates. These lost souls would then turn against their own, a fate worse than death…
Amergin prayed for their souls…
In the quiet, as the rolling storm, with its dark vortex of weather and waves, dissipated and subdued, the crews on all the surviving vessels came tentatively up on to deck. Blinking and scanning around like frightened prey after the predator had gone. The dark of the night now lifted, penetrated by the everlightening dawn. Xomas, Terese and Amergin stood in shocked silence, knowing they had been in the presence of dark and threatening forces, and survived. Others had not…“The Others” as they became to be known were destined for an eternal soul-less existence in limbo.
The wind gradually eased, and soon the warming light of morning wrapped comfortingly around the fleet. Amergin instructed Xomas to contact each vessel by the signalling mirror and say, “I am Amergin, your Druid of the Sea, your champion and warrior-prince. You have been brave, you have survived this ordeal. The journey continues. We have endured the dark tempest. The Great Spirit has given us the strength and the wisdom to survive. Today we will pray for the lost lives and souls of our fellow Milesians, we have been tested, and we have endured. We must give thanks to the Great Spirit. Our hearts and our spirits must be as one. We must unite on this our greatest journey.”
The captains on the surviving vessels replied in return, each swearing allegiance to Amergin and the cause.
The ocean settled into a rhythmic, relaxing swell once more. The prevailing Westerly winds filled the now re-rigged sails. Amergin took the helm and sailed on, leading the fleet onwards to the Northern horizon. The warming sun and fresh breeze gladdening his heart, restoring his tested but unwavering faith.
He ordered the crew to bait and cast the long-lines. He prepared to have a feast this evening to bolster the spirits of all. The first of many yellow finned tuna took the bait and were soon hauled in.
All the vessels fished for the feast that night. “Xomas break out the pitchers of Xanthia, the liqueur from the sacred groves of Galicia! We will feast and toast to the Great Spirit. From adversity, our faith will be strengthened. Tell all the crews to feast, give thanks and to unite as one nation!”
A clear midnight sky stretched to infinity. Constellations revolved in their majesty around the one constant, Polaris, the Northern star. Amergin gazed to the distant heavenly void, the white, misty, creamy, dreamlike, swathe of the stars and planets of the galactic edge, a myriad of stars, more numerous than the grains of sand on the now distant Galician beaches. Stars twinkling in the high atmosphere, some pink, some blue, some reflecting the light from the shimmering ocean.
Replete with a plentiful feast, Tuna fresh from the long lines, the ceremonial liqueur washed down with the fresh Tuna blood.The Great Spirit toasted, the singing and chanting of the crew drifting over the now lulling ocean. Amergin sipped the sacred liqueur and rested on the mattress of coiled rigging and rope at the stern of the ship. Sipping, savouring and still focusing on the Northern Star, constant in the slowly rotating universe. The sky dark, the moon still not risen, slowly sipping, the hypnotic lilting motion of the deep ocean, he slipped in and out of wakefulness and consciousness.
From the deep recesses of the distant cosmic void, a feathering frond like finger of white gaseous elements. A pulse of plasma sent and shot, spurting through the heavens.The pulse wrapped around the Northern Star and warped straight towards Amergin. A vision surrounded him. A voice permeated his being, “Look for Jascinthus, the great Blue Whale. Watch for his giant blow over the morning horizon! This will be your guide. Do not be deceived by false mirages sent by the Sidhe. The Blue Whale will be your guide until the moon is full once more.”
The pulsing plasma warped and gathered overhead, the risen new moon, in a spectrum of white silver to rich amber. He felt the plasma surround and wrap around his dreaming and gently inebriated body and mind. Again he felt his heart being massaged. His mind overcome, he sensed great ecstacy and joy.
“Amergin, I am with you my love…”
A vision of great beauty… and he was awake…
Sceine was waiting for him. He saw the Island of Destiny in his dreams. She was leading him to the promised land of the prophecy. She was guiding him. They must be watchful…
CHAPTER FOUR:
WRECKERS OF THE DARK
“There! A giant blow on the northern horizon! That is the way!” Amergin hurriedly took the tiller from Xomas and guided the flagship in that direction. On cue this magnificent creature of the ocean breached. No mistake now. An explosion of spray as the sea once again consumed the whale.
Amergin turned to Xomas “This is truly a monster of an animal, larger and heavier than this vessel, we must follow until the moon is full in the sky. We have been sent a guide.”
With each arching graceful motion, the Blue Whale sped onward, occasionally diving deep and signalling with the massive fluking tale. Fortunately, a freshening southerly wind filled the fair weather rigging on the vessel and they sped onward, in harmony with the giant blue cetacean.
Behind them, the fleet stretched out in a long curving formation. Amergin mirror-signalled to each of the vessels, soon all of the fleet were made aware of his intentions.
Day followed day, on and on, further into the limitless blue ocean. Immense distances were covered each day.
The southerly wind blew strong and sure. Their guide, the Blue whale, took them into the unknown.
The moon would be full that night. Amergin took readings on the astral chart, as the darkness fell.
How much further would the great whale take them? The answer would soon be given…
After days of sure and constant sailing, the friendly southerly wind dropped out and calm befell the fleet. The giant whale was to be seen no more. All the watchmen on each vessel scanned and scoured the horizon for the tell-tale blow, or a fluking tail. Nothing…
Somewhere down the line of the fleet was heard an anxious cry, “To the east! Look to the east!”
From the darkening eastern horizon over the now becalmed and glass like ocean, came a white rolling, dense bank of sea fog. One by one each vessel disappeared into the smothering, eerie, blanket of humid, dank, lightless, all pervading sea fog. Each watchman sounded a periodic blast of a conch to let each other know of their whereabouts.
The sound of the conch bellowed out into the mist. Strangely muffled but echoing and resonating.
Amergin and Xomas checked with the watchmen, perched high on the cross spars, “Any signs out there, any signs to show us the way?”
“Only the sounds of the conches from the rest of the fleet my Lord”, they responded, “Nothing else, no wind, no light, no ocean sounds, nothing but stillness, nothing to give us our bearings.”
In the eeriness they waited, floated and drifted. No direction, no signs. Amergin had heard of the vast fog banks that can sit in quiet isolation for weeks, becalming mariners for weeks at a time.
The days went by, just the sound of the conches, and the occasional cry out from a nearby vessel, as if the crew needed comfort in the knowledge that they were not alone.