Kakael: Dark Nights/Prologue

The water was rather blue. Very blue. Perhaps the bluest water Eithron had ever seen. They were certainly further from his beautiful snow than he had ever been in his life. Eithron had occasionally rowed in a small row boat around Desser, the trading city he had departed from, but never sailed on a real cargo ship, with a crew and everything. It made him seasick, which annoyed him, as he thought it would have felt similar to riding a horse, something he had spent a large portion of his life doing. But the back of a horse goes up and down, up and down. The ship went left and right. it was not a nice feeling.

After discolouring the blue water with his lunch once more, he staggered over to the deck hatch, tripped, and rolled painfully down the stairs. He was not enjoying this journey at all. Two days had gone by, and they wasn't a sign of land in any direction. Any ideas of jumping ship were too far gone at this point, so he'd have to deal with the sickness for now. Crawling to his hammock, *Or,*he thought to himself, *I'll just sleep it off.*

\*\*\*

The sea roared as Eithron slumbered in his hammock. The sea had turned stormier as he had slept, and it now awoke him. Above him, the sailors were running backwards and forwards and shouting orders or complaints to each other. There were very few other people below deck with him; any sailor was on deck, trying to frighten the storm into calming down and there were few others on board the ship. A couple of mercenaries and an eccentric noble (whose reason for being on board no-one appeared to know) had bartered their way on board, but the mercenaries were watching some expensive cargo and the nobleman seemed to have no trouble sleeping. Eithron ignored it, trying to sleep again. Several hours, or possibly minutes, maybe even seconds, later, there was a sudden crash and the sound of splintering wood that jolted Eithron from his attempt at sleep.

Rolling off his hammock and painfully onto the hard wood floor, Eithron lay for a second before the thrashing ship caused him to crash into a wall. Forcing himself to his feet, which he noticed, were noticeable wetter than they had been before, he made a dash for the stairs. collapsing against them, as the ship buckled again, he caught his breath, and looked around. Everything was a mess. Knapsacks slid across the floor, their contents spilled all over the sleeping quarters. The nobleman was somehow asleep through all of this, and Eith decided there was no point trying to help him. The thought crossed his mind *Maybe this is normal? Do things like this happen all the time at sea?*He was then flung across the room, and decided he should probably see what was going on.

Clambering up the ladder, Eithron felt bile rise in his throat again. Rain was hammering down on the deck and running down his neck. The sailors ran past him, completely ignoring him just as two huge cracks rang out, far louder than the wind and rain; a gunshot, immediately followed by another crash. This time the ship noticeably moved hard to the starboard side, though Eithron barely noticed - a foot had slipped loose and he was trying to keep his balance on the ladder. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but the hunter could almost feel the ship tilting to one side.

"By Lea-nora! What is, ugh, going on?"

Clinging with his whole body to the ladder, he watched as a wave spilled over the deck, clamping his mouth shut a second too late and getting a jaw full of sea water. Spitting it out, choking, he slid back down the ladder and tried to grab some of the things that were washing around the below-deck. His satchel was still somehow hanging from beside his hammock, and he put his head through the loop, leaning against the wall of the quarters. With water stinging his eyes, he tried to pick up his bow, but the arrows were strewn around the room. One jabbed him in the shin, and he stuck it though into his satchel.

He somehow made it over to the noble, and tried to wake him. After a few polite shoulder shakes and yells in his ear, he gave him a sharp slap to his face. The nobleman squinted through his eyes, groggy from sleep.

"What in t-," he began, before two more gunshots rang out above the storm, cutting him off. In an instant he seemed wide awake and swung himself over, neatly landing on the floor. He quickly made his way across the floor, using anything as a handhold. He didn't seem at all bothered by the swaying of the ship, possibly a sailor in the past, but when there was another crash, he was taken by surprise and sent falling to the floor, managing to make use of several swearwords as he fell. He was up in moments and if he was moving quickly before, he was moving twice as fast now. He made it to the ladder in a few moments before making his way up expertly.

"Hey! Come back! Don't leave me he-" Eithron fell over again, and coughed up some lingering water. He stumbled once more towards the stairs, after the nobleman. Missing a post, he landed in the increasing amount of water in the room, and pushed himself back up, spitting and coughing. A quiver rolled in-front of him, and he grabbed it. however, it was empty, as the arrows were laying in a pile underneath a pair of boots. He hurriedly scooped up a handful and shoved them in the quiver, which he slung over his shoulder alongside his bow. As he bent over to pick them up, his pistol fell out of his bandoleer, and into one of the boots, as the room buckled, he grabbed the boot and charged forward, trying to get to the ladder before the next crash. He managed to grab hold of the ladder before he fell over. Forcing himself up, he emerged once more into the storm's onslaught. Men still sprinted this way and that, though it seemed less busy than before, possibly because of the storm. There was no sign of the nobleman, but the damage looked even worse from above deck. There was a huge, splintered hole on the port side and several sailors were standing around the edge of the boat, holding guns aimed into the water.

Eithron clambered out of the hatch, and steadied himself against a rope-bound crate. he pulled the gun out of the shoe and stuck it back in his bandoleer, tossed the boot away, and vomited. The foul taste was quickly smothered though, as a wave rolled over the edge of the vessel and struck him in the face, filling his mouth and thrashing him about, yet his grip on the crate held.

"What in ury-Yru's blessed name is happening?" As a firearm wielding sailor ran past, Eith reached out and took a firm hold of his shirt, and screamed in his face, "What's going on?"

Eith took the sailor by surprise and they were both sent tumbling to the floor. The sailor immediately started to pull himself up, shouting as he did so. "Sum' sor'a, argh, uh, um, *zee sla-*," pausing as he got up to swear in his own language, the bedraggled sailor found the right word,  "Sea serpent!"

There was a shout from elsewhere and the sailor sprinted off, before waiting for a reply. Seconds later there was another gunshot and something slammed into the side of the ship again.

"A sea serpent?"

Eithron stumbled over to the railing and peered out into storm. The rain and waves were relentless, and Eith eyes were stinging from the salt water. *A sea serpent? A leviathan? Perhaps a great turtle? What have I gotten myself into?*

Not liking that he seemed helpless, Eithron picked up an empty bottle from the deck, and threw it into the water, vaguely in the direction the sailor was running. The elements continued to roar their battle-cry for a few moments before there was enough crash and the fletcher was sent to the floor. The nobleman appeared from the rain, drenched through. He grabbed Eithron and shouted, over the sound of the storm, "The ship's gone. Find a door, or a bed, something strong, maybe a crate," before making to leave again.

"Uh. OK. Thanks!"

Eith paused for a second as he watched the nobleman vanish into the darkness. Then another shot thundered through the air , and he snapped out of his stupor. Looking around, the closest thing was the crate he had been leaning on before. Clinging onto the ropes, he thought of going to the captains cabins, but realised it was too late for that.

There was a loud creaking and the ship buckled. The ropes were coarse, cold and wet and his hands were red and numb. There was a crack and the boat suddenly shifted, collapsing in on itself; Eithron could only assume that some integral part of the ship had broken. A rope holding the crate down snapped and it slid down, towards the middle of the ship and the waves leaping over it. Before he reached it, another rope caught and the crate was stopped, several meters away from the raging sea. Eithron was not quick enough, he tried to stop, and turn and climb back up, but his momentum, increased by his luggage, combined with the slippery wood of the deck and the fact that he was blinded by another salty wave, caused him to barrel straight into the crate. The rope snapped as Eithron hit the box, man and crate sliding into the waves below. The wind howled louder, almost a scream, and the figure had to resist being blown away. Some other sailors were trying similar things, clinging to doors, whilst others simply dived into the sea. There was a crack; the mast had collapsed and swung down, slamming onto the deck and further damaging the ship. The deck of the sinking ship, which had been just beneath Eith, was breaking up and floating away, splinters and planks bouncing on waves.

Something glistening and smooth surfaced for a moment; long and barrelled and soaked with water, before it disappeared under the water again. As it disappeared, parts of the water turned red, dark pools of blood spreading out across the sea.

Before he could think, the crate tipped and Eith was plunged into the thrashing sea. Eithron saw nothing but black. Heard nothing but the dulled rushing of water into his ears. Then he opened his eyes. Somehow he still had hold of the box, and his hands had gone numb from effort. he felt the nightmarish sensation of losing his breath, and exhaled, forcing the water from his throat. A seconds relief, then another, then the sensation returned, and Eith screamed silently. With great effort, he forced his way out from under the box, and out of the raging sea. Gasping for air, and throwing up a gallon of water, he  clung to the side of the wooden saviour, and heard the noise return to his ears. The roar of the wind, the thunder of the rain. A scream cut short, and an unearthly rumble from from all around. Eithron clamped his eyes shut again, and prayed to the gods of his ancestors he would not meet them today.

The wretched figure dragged himself on top of the crate, coughing and retching, clinging for dear life, a speck on the sea. The waves jumped over him once more, and he took in another mouthful of seawater. He managed to get a good hold on the ropes, wrapping them around his hands. Splinters pierced him and a nail stuck into his thigh, stabbing him each time the waves rolled the crate. He lay against the box, breathing heavily and coughing up the water that was still in his lungs when, without warning, the crate rolled onto the other side, plunging him into water once more. He slammed against the crate, the nail piercing his skin and the salt water stinging his wounds. His eyes hurt and his mouth filled with water as he opened it instinctively. Trying to cough and thrash did no good; something had caught his hands and he couldn't get free. His lungs were bursting and his hands were screaming in pain. Again, he tried to scream and, again, no sound came out. Desperately trying to kick himself above water, Eithron could not escape the blackness that closed in on him. In his last visions, hallucinations and life indistinguishable and merging into death, Eithron felt the crate tip, and wasn't sure if he imagined it, but felt himself resurface.

The man whose last hope was a broken crate lost consciousness.

*Next Chapter: Chapter I*