In Search of Other Skies

—The Last Island Ship

Work in Progress

The author of this work has not yet completed it and is still working on it. Please be patient and wait for the next update.

*Lay your gaze upon the land, and feel the wind from the stars.*

—Inscription on the Last Island Ship

## Chapter One

Nightfall was fast approaching the Continent. The lighthouse’s comforting glow still illuminated the approach to the Sword Shoals, and land was in sight.

The bowsprit of *Seasons* reflected on the mirror of water, before the latter was shattered by the cascading bow wave. Her majestic sails cast a pale yellow glow, the dying breath of the sun before it slipped beneath the tides. It was another moonless era. The three-masted barque was one of the finest of her kind, and Messenger, knew as much. *Seasons* was, at this point, making twelve knots, which would be a terribly irresponsible thing to do on a vessel of lesser calibre, but her captain, Messenger knew her ship well. *Seasons* was in a class of her own.

About that name. Messenger wasn’t sure why she were called that. It just happened. It was strange that only she had a single obscure word for a name and no last name or anything of the sort. Apparently everyone else never noticed anything wrong about it. She dismissed it with the thought that after all, there are always quite a few nonsensical things in human society.(messenger’s name pending)

The barque followed the beacon of the Lighthouse, and before long *Seasons* found her way into the calm yet vast waters of Half Star Bay. The sun had silently sunk below the horizon, and the stars provided what little guidance they could give. The apparent calm of the Bay is not without its dangers, as in a bay a hundred miles across, nature can be quite unforgiving if you lose your way. Luckily for *Seasons*, she had one of the most renowned navigators on the seven seas: Thomas Yearwood.

A night passed. The starlit sky watched over its favourite world, silent, and patient. It had seen the first spire of the Shining City reach for the clouds, and would watch the last of the Kingdoms fall. One day, all the stars would go out too, extinguished by the river of Time.

But still, they had much time, and much to see.

The faint stars were washed out by the rays of a newborn sun. The cycle of life continued along its course, undeterred.

Sails could be seen on the horizon, a clear sign of approaching land.

In the port of Whitesands all was as usual. About twenty ships were present in the little anchorage into which flowed the solitary River Leda. One of the vessels had raised sail. A solitary red point appeared on the horizon. Slowly it expanded, until the haze of distance cleared, revealing the famous red pennant, suspended in its joyful dance atop *Season*’s mainmast.

Though this was where she was born, it was no home for one who had travelled far and wide.

*Beyond mere city walls*

*Beyond all mountains tall*

*Take not the favoured paths*

*Sail not the sea lanes clear*

*Dread not the ocean’s laugh*

*Which every landsman fears*
Seasons had circumnavigated the Continent twice already. The chequerboard layout of Whitesands, with streets running perpendicular to each other, was devoid of adventure, devoid of interest. A predicament shared by all cities of the Restoration Period. She much preferred her adoptive city of Northsea, with its winding streets and twisted alleys, on the Cape of Fears. Though it had its icy winds and endless rain season, adventure and discovery were always part of life there. Not dull monotony under the guise of stability.

The sails were rolled up as *Seasons* neared the shore. She silently cruised along while slowing down, and tethers were attached to one of the boats, before being lowered into the water, just as the ship came to a slow halt. Messenger, Yearwood and two sailors(names pending) rowed it towards the shore. Yearwood waved the Tariff Ensign of Whitesands, and the official on the pier waved them through. They proceeded to hook the tethers on the pier before winching the barque in.

The port was not especially bustling, as was common for those in the Kingdom Heartlands, and more often than not captains would ship all sorts of manufactured goods and equipment, even weapons sometimes, books and gizmos such as the newly-invented mechanical timekeeper(aka clock) and optical instruments to the Heartlands, while they had to settle for bulk goods such as grain, iron and wool on the way back. It was a clear indicator of how backwards the Heartlands were by now. Still, they had the majority of the population of the world at their disposal, and they could accomplish incredible feats, if the rulers of the New Kingdom were not preoccupied with building tombs, temples and palaces which were far large than necessary. Messenger thought.

A bold heart always sought adventure. Messenger wanted to be the first to circumnavigate the world, instead of just settling for the circumnavigation of the Continent as previous generations of explorers had done. They had reasoned that there was nothing on the other side of the planet anyway. It was quite possible that some had done it already, but in the vastness of the Far Waters they had no method of ascertaining their location nor proving their veracity. But Messenger planned to reach the South Pole, with its fables of dry land. A compass would suffice, and a round trip to the South Pole was proof as good as any of a circumnavigation.

The astronomers of the Observatory had long observed that the Planet had its axis tilted towards the sun, explaining the fact that the southerly reaches of the Continent were hotter than the northern parts, and the Redoubt Peninsula, with its dense jungles, was already sweltering. How hot it would be at the Pole was anybody’s guess. If the heat gets too bad, Messenger decided, then I’ll definitely turn back. To be adventurous was not to be suicidal, and she did not lack the ability to gauge the fine line between the two.

And this is why she waited for spring. Calculations suggested that it would be winter at the South Pole by the time *Seasons* made it there, making it perhaps more hospitable. But this meant crossing the equator in high summer. Even still, it was almost time to depart.