The ship turned slowly in the dark waters. It's seemingly
aimless wanderings weaving it to and fro through the shifting
currents and random winds. Sea vultures flapped overhead, eagerly
anticipating the demise of the ship below.
"No pickings for you today," Captain Jarred thought
aloud, "I hope," he added under his breath while clutching
the luck totem he wore about his neck. This was always the worst
part of the journey between the Frontier and Galen. Though he
resented yielding the ship's helm to the blind seer, he knew
under his own hand the ship's hull would doubtless be shredded
by the unchartable reef of the Maze. Only the Aknorians seers
could sail these waters, their arcane prescience guiding them
through the treacherous rocks.
Why did the Galenese care enough about this frontier to risk
vessels such as the Emerald Sail in these waters? Hadn't Cygoth's
destruction of Unity been enough? Before that there was the plague.
And these so-called settlers. Adventure seekers, most of them.
What brought them out to this forsaken wilderness? Didn't they
know people died horrid, lonely deaths at the hands of hobgoblins
and ogres? Treasure there might be, but certainly no treasure
worth your neck. Still every season it's the same, more people
seeking passage to meet death in these savage lands.
Below the rail Jarred was leaning on warriors practiced their
skill at arms in mock combat. Soon they'd be crossing blades
with hobgoblins or those strange creatures who called themselves
monks, always demanding gems for their mysterious lords. “Who
am I to stop them?” Jarred continued in his dark and brooding
thoughts. Well, some do survive. Hadn't that settlement of Forge
Hollow escaped the giant's rampage. Even so, why take the chance?
“How many of you will live to see another summer?”
he asked in silence of his passengers.
