Born a Monster

350 Fish in the Sea

Plotline: Main

Type: Social, Brief Conflict

The wind from the north stopped about mid-day. On a normal ship, this would be when the cards and dice and snack foods came out. Not needing a sail, we just kept at our boring task until a wind from the east picked up.

“How are you doing, little one?” one of the other rowers asked.

“I think my muscles are all going to lock up at once, and turn me into a meat statue.” I admitted.

Knowing I couldn’t gut him if I’d wanted to, he slapped me on my back. “It was well done for a first timer, don’t let the rest of us get you down. That said...”

There were eight things wrong with my form, eight ways I could have used leverage better. Eight.

I had aches in more muscles than that, but to my surprise, they began un-bunching a mere eleven minutes later.

I mean, that HAD to be exercise, even at level three, right?

.....

It certainly counted for the heavy work multiple on the nutrition we needed; we had lumpy biscuits with bits of vegetables, meat, fruit and nuts baked into it. After so long eating raw fish and sea foliage, it was like basking in the light of heaven.

I mean without the OH LAUGHING GODS, WHY DID I THINK I COULD LOOK DIRECTLY INTO THAT part of it.

I was feeling pretty good when I got to the deck, seeing the familiar browns and green and gray skin tones of actual people. Only...

I’d seen faces that tense, eyes that moved quickly from place to place like that. Before most battles, I had seen faces like that.

“What are we expecting to attack us?” I asked.

“Fish men.” the woman I’d chosen to speak to replied. “Not too bad in and of themselves, but they’ve got some kind of magic that makes three in five people run before them like cowards.”

“I’m familiar with it.” I said. It was mentalism, a psionic wave of fear, not that I’d known that until after unlocking my own psychic abilities.

Specifically, it was an empathic, or emotional attack. And yeah, it was both nasty and effective.

“So, from the mood of the crew, we’re approaching that area? Of the earlier attack?” I asked.

She nodded. “The last attack was at dusk, and they took nearly a tenth of the crew on deck. I’d like some payback, but I’m not sure if I can trust myself, let alone my battle kindred.”

“It does wear off. Spread the word that safety is only below deck; if we can reduce the number of people jumping overboard, we reduce casualties.”

She ground her teeth, but nodded.

They attacked just after dusk, mostly from the side of the setting sun.

I say mostly, because damn it there were between thirty and sixty of them. A little over one per member of the crew, and they fought with a plan. Unlike my earlier encounter with the fish-men, they started their fear at either end of the main deck, and then upon the already panicked and disorganized crowd that gathered in the center. From the side, driving them toward and over the opposite railing.

The rest of us tried to hold a line.

We tried.

It took under a minute; while we got a handful of them, literally five, they claimed over twice that many. One third of the sailors on deck.

The crew was sullen, and they’d a right to be. We knew what was coming, and we were powerless to stop it. Heck, the outcome had been worse.

Well, on both sides. Five is more than two, so the fish-men had also come out with more casualties.

The mood was as dark as the night setting in, but we Tidelanders gathered to sing songs of those who had passed, and whose bodies had gone missing; of those whom we could not burn or bury.

The ship had no proper medic or doctor, let alone a surgeon. I found myself with a thread and needle, again sewing flesh to flesh. I was engaged in that task when the captaine found me.

“Ever useful, ambassador. Be so again. We need a heading.”

“We need more sailors, is there a better place to get those than in Lavin Buscala?”

“There is not. Are you certain of the port? There were people in the Girdle under the impression that you were picking up a valuable artwork of some sort.”

“We need to go west first, then east by southeast, and then to the Girdle. After that, my side business in these islands is done, one way or another.”

“And what if we don’t want any part in what you consider your side business?”

“Then you are wise and intelligent.” I said. “It will take time to find a crew bold and full of courage, but taking Black Danton toward the side of honesty will take such a crew.”

The captain spat at me. “And five other ships that we do not have.”

“We intend to use the lure to land that fish, not the spear.” I said. I’m still not sure the metaphor works on that.

She shook her head. “He’ll take your coin and your head; I’ll not lose my crew on that fool’s errand. You’re looking for the Black Hound, all but a pirate himself.”

“I’ve heard of him. A native who took to the seas as a boy? Usually trades around Lavin Buscala and Yvettesport?”

“You are well informed, for one trapped on an island half a year.”

“I spoke with Gamilla about who we’d have to hire in the likely event that whomever came for us had a lick of sense.”

“About that wench. She conned me out of one of my spare ledger books. Your embassy is paying the coin for that.”

“Of course.” I said. “Unless you were willing to take payment in the form of a rainbow conch shell.”

Even in the dark, I could see the greed in her eyes. “In my cabin. I’ll want to see it in the light.”

I had known that rare and beautiful shells were worth money, but just how much had I offered? “I trust it will cover our other expenses, as well?”

“Depends on the condition of the shell.” she said.

It was fresh, and intact, and I’d taken the time to clean it of the outer inhabitants as well as the inner. For a long time, she just turned it in her hands, beholding the gradients of color change with the angle of the light.

“I’ll want to see it in daylight to be certain.” she said. “But I believe we have struck a deal.”

I would later learn just how bad of a deal I’d made, but it improved the mood of the captaine and flowed through the crew from her.

That, and the knowledge they were heading home, and it was almost as if the crew would be whole again.

And then we came upon two lengths of chain, stretched across a narrow passage between two islands.

Mister Tibbs, who was on watch, cursed in ways that were not even remotely polite and would take three people to do with any degree of anatomic accuracy.

“We’ll need your strength below, ambassador.” he told me. “We’re going to have to tack against the wind for this one.”

“Or we could pay the toll?” I asked.

“Cannibals.” he said.

“Tacking against the wind.” I said, noticing that there were already rowboats in the water. Well equipped cannibals.

Possibly very successful, definitely wealthy, by indigenous standards.

The turn involved the rowers keeping the ship from skirting backward too much, a job which we were, if barely, able to do.

What followed wasn’t a battle or a skirmish so much as just the crew blowing off some steam when two of the boats reached the ship at the same time. It didn’t sound like we’d missed much, below decks.

The Wary Dolphin wasn’t a light ship, but she had a shallow keel; we lost less than half a day going around, and most of that on sail power.

Honestly, the oars didn’t come out that often. With the week of snows approaching us, the winds were mostly in our favor. Which meant that after we reached Danton, the predominant winds would be against us.

I’d need to speak to Gamilla; we’d need to supply to survive the winter, if we had to beach during the winter season. Unlikely, given that most storms moved from south to north; the islands themselves would take most of the kick out of them for us.

But many captains would not dare even the northern trade routes; shipping as such was about to come to a halt for four months or so.

I was already late in returning home; did I dare to add another season, perhaps two?

Of course, I did. I hadn’t made a promise to Madonna, not strictly speaking, but still...

I am a completionist. When I start something, I want to see it through. I am my own worst enemy in this endeavor, being distracted by ... but enough about me.

I have an attention problem, and a competing drive to finish things. So while I wanted to return home, to see what progress the Red Axe had made (or not made) on integrating the Centaur plains, I also wanted to do so clear of my debt to the Spiro family, and without leaving Madonna with her own quest incomplete.

And THAT, in turn, meant learning all I could about the Raven, and her Feathers.