Vol.
Thy will be done, Mistress, he thought.
He sensed the night dwindling outside Grimwall, felt the first light of dawn glowing gently above the eastern horizon. A dull, leaden weariness came upon him, and he knew it was time to rest. He simply lay down where he was, between a massive shield he had once stolen from a storm giant and a large clay jar. He didn’t bother to remove his armor. He was well beyond the need for what mortals would consider comfort.
As the day’s oblivion began to take hold of him, he thought of Makala. That she was something special, he had sensed right away. Just how special, though, remained to be seen. She would be the next mystery for him to explore, and he was looking forward to it immensely. That, at least, was something about him that hadn’t changed.
He closed his eyes as in the outer world, the sun edged up over the horizon and a new day began.
CHAPTER
“I think we’re coming out of it.”
Yvka looked drained, as if keeping the elemental active during the storm had taken a great deal of energy out of her. She was pale, her face drawn, and Ghaji feared she might pass out any moment.
Diran’s suggestion had worked. By going southeast, they’d escaped the storm’s fury, and the waters they now sailed were calmer, and the rain fell more gently. The wind was still blowing strong but nothing like the gales they’d experienced before. Diran and Ghaji stood next to the mast where they’d ridden out most of the storm, prepared to make any needed adjustments in the sails.
Ghaji leaned close to Diran and whispered, “Do you think she’s going to be all right?”
Diran glanced back over his shoulder at Yvka.
“It’s difficult to say. She claimed the magic that controlled the elemental was embedded in the pilot’s chair and the containment ring, but our journey has obviously taken a toll on her. Perhaps it’s simply fatigue.”
Without waiting for Ghaji to reply, Diran headed back toward the pilot’s chair.
“The wind’s strong enough,” he said in a gentle voice. “Perhaps it’s time we gave the elemental a rest.”
Yvka looked at Diran with half-lidded eyes. “The elemental doesn’t need…” She broke off and gave Diran a tired smile. “I see. I am weary,” she admitted. “I don’t need more than an hour’s meditation, two at the most. I am an elf, after all.”
“Of course,” Diran said. “Ghaji and I can sail the Zephyr while you rest. We’ll call you if anything happens.”
Yvka looked at Diran for a moment, and Ghaji thought she might change her mind about resting, but finally she nodded and lifted her hand off the chair arm. As soon as she did, the glow in the elemental ring faded, and the wind that had been issuing forth from it died away. Yvka flexed her fingers, the joints making soft popping sounds as she did. She then removed her other hand from the tiller and rose from the pilot’s seat. Diran then sat and took hold of the tiller.
The rain had tapered off to a mild drizzle now, and Yvka removed her sodden cloak and hung it over the guardrail to dry. She then headed toward the cabin just as the clouds broke, revealing a hint of dawn. When she drew near Ghaji, she paused.
“There’s both water and food in the cabin. Feel free to come in and get it. If you want it, that is.” She smiled then continued on into the cabin.
Ghaji watched her go, admiring the smooth, languid way she moved even tired as she was. When she closed the cabin door, after giving him a last meaningful look, the half-orc turned to Diran. Diran smiled and waggled his eyebrows. Ghaji sighed.
“Diran?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s this stuff? It looks like seaweed, but it’s thicker and it’s all around us.”
“Seaweed?”
There was something about Ghaji’s words that set off a warning bell in the back of Diran’s mind, though he wasn’t sure why. He locked the tiller into its current position, rose from the pilot’s chair, and moved toward the starboard bow where Ghaji stood looking over the guardrail.
The stormclouds were long behind them now, and the late morning sky was a rich, clear blue. The rain was a memory as well, and the breeze had done much to dry the deck, as well as their cloaks, which hung on the railing next to Yvka’s. The elf-woman was still resting, though she’d been in the cabin longer than the two hours she’d claimed was all she needed. Ghaji had entered the cabin once, on the pretext of fetching them some breakfast, and he’d struggled to hide his disappointment was he returned and announced that Yvka was still meditating. Diran, to his credit, had managed not to laugh.
He joined Ghaji at the guardrail and looked down at the water. Just beneath the surface was a thready mass of greenery that indeed looked something like seaweed, and as Ghaji had said, it seemed to surround the starboard side of the Zephyr, stretching off into the distance.
“It’s like this in front and on the other side, too,” Ghaji said. “I checked.”
“It doesn’t appear to be slowing us down.” Even without the elemental’s aid, they were making good time, but Diran couldn’t shake the feeling that this situation was familiar somehow. A mass of seaweed covering the water for miles… ships sailing right through it with ease, almost as if it parted to allow them passage…
“By the Flame!” Diran whispered as sudden realization struck him. “We’re in the Mire!”
“The what?” Ghaji asked.
Instead of answering, Diran said, “Go get Yvka.”
Ghaji scowled, but rather than questioning Diran further, he walked to the cabin. A few moments later he returned with Yvka at his side, the elf-woman looking rested and restored.
“Imagine my disappointment when Ghaji told something about a lot of seaweed in the water. Not to be rude, but where else is seaweed supposed to be?”
“I’m afraid we’ve blundered into the Mire,” Diran said.
Yvka just looked at him for a moment, as if he’d just told the first part of a joke and she was waiting for him to deliver the punchline. When none was forthcoming, she said, “The Mire is nothing but an old sailor’s legend.”
Diran gestured toward the guardrail. “See for yourself.”
Yvka walked over to the railing and peered out across the water. She stood there for several seconds before returning to them. “There’s seaweed out there close to the surface, and a lot of it, but that doesn’t mean this is the Mire.”
Despite the elf-woman’s words, her tone wasn’t as confident as it had been a moment before.
“Whether we’re in it or not, would either of you mind telling me exactly what this Mire is?” Ghaji asked, exasperated.
“My father used to tell me stories about the Mire-stories that he swore were true.”
“With all due respect,” Yvka said, “fathers tell their children spooky stories all the time, and they claim them to be true to make them even scarier, but that doesn’t make them true.”
“That still doesn’t tell me what the Mire is,” Ghaji complained.
Diran turned to his friend. “The Mire is a huge expanse of seaweed rumored to be thousands of square miles wide. According to the tales, ships have no trouble sailing into the Mire, but once inside, they become trapped and can never win free.”
“It’s just a fable,” Yvka insisted, “a story told to explain ships that most likely went missing due to storms or other natural causes.”
