* * *
When they were near the end of their ocean journey, Pelivor brought them a large map of the Greatland that he rolled out onto one of the tables.
"Captain Trell wishes to know your desired destination, as she needs time to make the arrangements for the final leg of your journey. She does not recommend you land at New Moon Bay; the security will be tight, and you would stand a good chance of being discovered. It would not be the first time the Trader's Wind has been searched from top to bottom before being allowed to enter port."
The months aboard the ship had dulled the group's sense of urgency and allowed them to become complacent. Catrin had been able to forget some of her fears and anxieties, while the seclusion and comfort had fostered the illusion of security. With the map in front of them and the decision upon them, the thin veil of perceived safety vanished. Catrin trembled as a sense of foreboding weighed on her until she thought she would be crushed. Her eyes rested on the soft clothing she wore, and she felt the need to regain her edge and vigilance.
Determined to completely shatter the illusion, she excused herself, retreating to her quarters to don her leathers and homespun. Pelivor had cared for them well, and her garments were in considerably better condition than when she arrived. Her borrowed garments had been designed specifically for comfort, and Catrin found her utilitarian clothing rough and binding in comparison. The effect helped to remind her of the seriousness of her situation, and she visibly shifted her posture and attitude. The effect was not a complete regression to that which she had been before boarding the Trader's Wind, though; her new persona was better educated, more confident, and better mentally prepared.
When she returned to the common area, she found the atmosphere completely changed. Gone were the reclining figures garbed in white and tan; in their place, she found adventurers. The abrupt shift appeared to unnerve Pelivor, and he looked as if he were surrounded by predators. Catrin could understand his unease; she, too, was disquieted by those who paced the apartments like angry beasts, despite being one of them. Her attempt to reassure Pelivor came out as a shrill demand that he not look so meek. He seemed uncertain of how to respond and quickly excused himself.
Benjin was the first to speak. "We'd best prepare ourselves for the rigors that await us. This journey has provided respite and opportunity for recuperation, but it's also softened us. Let's approach our next decision with wisdom as well as caution. Let's discuss the best possible place to disembark the Trader's Wind as well as our ultimate destination. Let us consider our decisions well before we act," Benjin said, and his formal words struck their hearts.
Catrin nodded and joined the somber group around the map.
Benjin produced the bag of dice and poured a few into his hand. He placed them strategically on the map. The dice were a perfect metaphor for Catrin but one that struck too close to the truth for comfort. She imagined the dice rolling, her fate decided by patterns she failed to perceive. Benjin looked thoughtful and placed one last die on the map.
"I've marked these locations for a number of reasons. On the southeastern tip of the Greatland, we have Drascha Stone, one of the oldest Cathuran strongholds. We could land on the southern tip of Mundleboro and travel east to Drascha Stone. Far to the north, in the Northern Wastes, there is Ohmahold--thought to be the first stronghold on the Greatland. It's remote and surrounded by deep snow for much of the year.
"There are other, less significant Cathuran outposts in the remote parts of Sylva and the Westland," he said, motioning to the three smaller dice. "We'll be approaching the east coast, and traveling all the way to the west coast by ship would be risky. The Southland and Mundleboro have been occupied for only a few years, and the Zjhon influence has less hold there, but the southern coasts are brutally hot. Landing on the shores of the Southland would be difficult, as there are several key ports along the peninsula, and that area will likely be patrolled heavily."
"What about landing along the Northern Wastes or northern Endland? That would make for a relatively short journey to Ohmahold," Chase asked.
"Endland is densely populated, and the Northern Wastes are aptly named; they are barren and lifeless, and they can be deadly to cross. Autumn is nearly upon us, and the winter snows will soon cover the Wastes. I think we'll be best served by going south to Drascha Stone," Benjin replied.
After much deliberation, it was agreed that Benjin's plan was the most sound. His knowledge of this foreign land was far greater than what Catrin and the others possessed. When Pelivor returned, Captain Trell accompanied him. She greeted them briefly before getting straight to the point. "Where will you go?"
Benjin looked as if he would speak, but Catrin beat him to it. "We'll travel to the southern coast of Mundleboro, presuming the arrangements can be made."
"Your choices are few, and all of them dangerous, but I assume you are well aware of that. My options are limited in these dire circumstances, and I'm afraid your accommodations will be much less comfortable from here. There's a ship that should do this deed for me since her captain owes me his skin, but he is not the most trustworthy fellow. You are certain of your course, are you not? I'll not be able to change these arrangements once they are set. Please consider your options wisely. I'll send Pelivor for your answer on the morrow," Captain Trell said before she left.
None of them came up with a better plan, despite hours of contemplation, and on the next day, they gave Pelivor confirmation of their desires. Catrin had hoped she would feel better once the decision was made, but instead she found her anxiety increasing. Life was about to start moving at full speed once again, and she was afraid she'd lost her stride--if she had ever truly had it.
The months spent in close quarters had taken their toll. It seemed the group had run out of things to say, and each moment seemed to drag on. Having been reminded of the dangers ahead, Catrin and the others dearly wished to just get on with it.
Three days later, Pelivor brought them a large meal and word to prepare to change ships. "Your passage was difficult to secure, but Captain Trell bribed a mercenary ship to carry you to Mundleboro. The Nightfist should arrive after midnight. I'll let you know when they are prepared to receive you," he said then excused himself. He returned a short while later laden with packs, bedrolls, and a rather large coin purse. "Compliments of Captain Trell. She sends you luck."
Benjin accepted the gifts and weighed the purse in his hand. He looked as if he wanted to return it, to say it was too much, but then he seemed to swallow his pride. Catrin was glad he mastered himself. They would need coin during their travels, and now she had one less worry.
"You may keep the clothes that fit you, and I'll be happy to pack them if you wish," Pelivor said.
"Thank you," Catrin replied. "That is a generous gift, and we'll gladly accept it, but we can pack them. It'll give us something to occupy our idle hands." Thinking about the journey ahead, she could not decide if she was more excited or terrified; the two emotions churned in her gut, and she began to feel ill. A big part of her wished to stay aboard the Trader's Wind and hide for the rest of her life, but she knew she could not.
Chase and Strom tried to appear confident, but they could not hide their trepidation from her; she could feel the anxiety radiating from them. Her senses had become more attuned to her companions during the long voyage, and she felt much closer to them all, if not too close. She could sense that Benjin was reliving old and painful memories, and Vertook was terrified of boarding a smaller ship again, but she could also sense his desire to reach dry land.
"Get some sleep while you still can," Benjin said. "We'll want to be well rested when we board the Nightfist."
While Catrin agreed, she found it impossible to sleep. Knowing she was not alone in her insomnia did nothing to console her. When Pelivor finally arrived, Catrin yawned and had trouble keeping her eyes open. The rush of excitement had worn off, and she was drained and exhausted. Cursing herself for not sleeping while she could, she pulled herself from the comfo
rtable chair and watched as the others rose no more quickly.
"I want to thank you all for your kindness during this journey," Pelivor said. "Thank you for including me in your games and storytelling. I enjoyed it very much. Captain Trell sends her thanks as well." Pelivor presented each of them with a gift. His gifts were simple, but the thought behind them was without price. To Vertook he gave a carving of a horse; the mighty steed it depicted was in full stride with its mane and tail flying in the wind. Vertook marveled over it and shocked Pelivor by embracing him in a bear hug.
When Pelivor turned to Strom, he produced a small canvas painted with brightly colored depictions of several plants. "This canvas can be used safely in an emergency," he said with a straight face, "but the plants drawn on it should be avoided." Strom flushed, but when Pelivor cracked a smile, he laughed aloud.
Next, Pelivor made his way to Chase and presented him with a small herb kit, complete with notes on which herbs to use for various ailments. "I hope your shoulder heals well, but in the meantime, this should help," he said, and Chase thanked him for the generous gift, shaking his hand firmly.
Osbourne clearly didn't know what to expect, and Pelivor had a sly smile on his face as he approached. He handed Osbourne a small stone vial filled with clear liquid. "This perfume is guaranteed to win the affections of any woman who smells it," Pelivor said loudly. Osbourne flushed and looked extremely uncomfortable. Catrin asked for a sniff, and Osbourne quickly but carefully stashed the vial in his pocket. Catrin laughed, and Pelivor winked at her.
Benjin stood with his arms crossed and stared down his nose at Pelivor, managing to look somewhat imposing. Pelivor hesitated for a moment.
"You deserve whatever you get, Benjin Hawk," Catrin said, "especially after the way you teased him about women."
Benjin let a small smile play across his face but maintained a defensive posture. Pelivor presented him with a hand-painted pickup grid. The lines were precisely drawn and the text beautifully penned. "Thank you, Pelivor. You are kind," Benjin said, patting him on the back.
Catrin wondered what Pelivor could possibly have for her. His smile was bold and impish as he moved to stand before her. "There are three gifts for you," he said then walked to the bookshelves, where he located the books Captain Trell had sent for her. The last item he held was a satchel that consisted of wax-coated layers of leather. He placed the books in the water-resistant case and handed them to Catrin. "The captain insists you take these. She only asks that you inform her of anything you learn of them. The last gift is from me," he said, and his face flushed. He hesitated for a moment but then seemed to realize this was his last opportunity. He put his arm around Catrin's waist, dipped her back, and kissed her firmly on the lips.
The others had to suppress their laughter and hooting for fear of making too much noise at such a crucial time, but the moment would never be forgotten. Catrin was befuddled by Pelivor's kiss, and she was speechless when he stood her back up. He ran his hand across her lower back as he released her, and she felt a chill run down her spine. Weak-kneed, she waited to see what would happen next.
Pelivor walked away without another word, opened the exterior hatch, and secured and unrolled the rope ladder. Catrin dreaded climbing out of the hatch backward, especially with her staff slung across her back, but she set her jaw and prepared herself. Pelivor helped her climb out into the darkness, and she groped in the air with her toes, trying to locate the next rung. It was a frightening climb, but she reached the boat that waited below. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness, and she could not make out any details of the men in the boat. No one spoke a word.
Each of her companions made their stealthy descent, and Catrin was pleased to note that Chase had little trouble with his climb, though he was out of breath when he reached the boat. He had healed well, and now he could regain his stamina.
The sound of the oars stroking the water gave an eerie quality to their mute departure, and it felt like a dream. Catrin gazed back at the Trader's Wind and would always recall the memories of their journey with fondness, but she feared what lay ahead. The path before her was perilous and filled with uncertainty. She tried to harden herself in preparation.
The Nightfist appeared, at first, as a shadowy silhouette that became more solid and distinguishable as they approached. It looked dark and oily, and it gave Catrin the shivers. The crew dropped a boarding net that Catrin and the others climbed easily. The rough and mean-looking men on deck were no friendlier than those in the boat. Most wore vicious sneers on their faces. Several of them eyed Catrin in a way that made her very uncomfortable, and she was relieved when a man stepped forward, grunted at them, and motioned for them to follow him. He led them to a room that resembled a cell more than it did a cabin.
Catrin entered the dark room with trepidation and was grateful when Benjin refused to allow the man to close the door behind him. They were left alone, cabin door slightly ajar. Two benches were the only items in the room, but she and the others made themselves as comfortable as they could. Chase, Strom, and Osbourne unrolled their bedrolls and rested on the floor. Benjin and Vertook sat, leaning against the walls, and Catrin reclined on one of the benches. Eventually Vertook moved to the other bench and slept.
"I don't trust these men," Benjin said. "I'll be much happier when we've parted company. I'll keep watch if you want to sleep."
Catrin tried to remain vigilant, but her eyes drooped with exhaustion as the subtle motions of the ship lulled her.
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