Chapter One
The sting of salt water lashed Ohrl’s face.
Great waves smashed over Dawn’s Eclipse, soaking the deck from bow to stern. After weeks of travel, there seemed no end in sight. Desperate for any hint of land, they had sailed with haste across the Great Sea, hoping to catch Na’ilah, but each day as the sun set, the horizon remained empty. Though the twin-crescent constellation guided them west, the night skies were not always clear, with clouds masking the horizon.
The crew had already started to crumble. For several days, no wind filled their sails. They drifted in the currents, their inactivity giving way to belief that there was no land beyond the Breach, feeding Daevan’s concern that the currents encouraged them south. Whispers spread that they would die chasing Na’ilah and Elsa. When at last the wind picked up, several had been convinced that the right course was to turn back, to return empty handed to Nazh-rndu’ul. Daevan reminded them what Baelin would do if they arrived without his sister, but Ohrl found it far easier to send subtle threads into the sailors’ minds, coercing them to keep Dawn’s Eclipse heading west at pace.
The more he dove into the Weave, however, he felt the return of whispers shifting beneath the breeze. As the wind increased, so did the incessant call. He couldn’t determine what it said, but the voice felt ever present. He yearned to hear its call, but it disappeared each time a large wave slammed into the bow of their ship.
That night, the stars were veiled by a large storm brewing on the horizon. As the wind grew, so did the whispers; their presence making Ohrl believed they were getting close. He filled the sailors’ minds with encouragement and fortitude, knowing that the end of their journey would soon be in sight. As the swell had begun to rise, they pushed on as best they could, the pilot grappling with the wheel to keep them pointed west.
‘ant qarib you are close.
Ohrl heard it rise from the water. The wind had gathered, and soon the swell swallowed the horizon. Dawn’s Eclipse rode each wave high into the air, only to come crashing down the other side.
“Spires!” came the bowman’s shout.
With their eyes cast on the distant horizon looking for any sign of land, the great warship was almost wrenched apart by a submerged finger of rock just below the surface. There was little the pilot could do as they rode the face of the wave. The oncoming swell sucked water from around the spire’s tip, creating a surge that pulled them close, but their ship was then shoved to one side as the swell swallowed the spire beneath the surface, and once more the crew saw nothing but sky. Ohrl remembered what happened he and Faerl escaped Sira’an, how in one terrifying moment, a submerged spire had ripped their ship in two.
“Drop the sails,” Daevan cried out, fearful that more spires lay buried beneath the surface. “Let’s ride out the storm.”
Daevan had barely given the command before all lines were let loose. Sailors ascended the rigging, lashing the sails back to the yards. Yet even once that was done, the ship lurched forward, intent on breaching deeper into the storm.
“We’re being controlled, just like Sama’ad controlled the fleet,” Ohrl shouted, hearing stronger voices calling beneath the wind. Fear struck Daevan’s eyes.
“We’ll be torn apart,” the captain said, but Ohrl wasn’t so sure. He listened again for the whispers beneath the wind, adamant that whatever drove them forward yearned to be found.
“Secure the ship,” he commanded, sending another wave of courage to the men. “Make sure none are thrown overboard. Death awaits us in these waters, captain, but our prize is not far ahead.”
The storm grew as night gathered, until darkness completely claimed the horizon. Firelights were placed on the bow of the ship, but the glow did little to penetrate the surging sea. Ohrl knew there would be no chance to steer clear of a spire breaching the water directly in front of their bow. Something was drawing them closer, but he was unsure if it was friend or foe. All he could do was hang on like all the others, for they would either survive the night and find Na’ilah, or they would be dead long before the dawn.
To make matters worse, heavy rain began to fall, hampering any visibility they had. Given little choice but to ride out the storm, all crew remained on deck, grabbing hold of what they could as each terrifying wave smashed over the deck. Lightning flashed across the horizon, lighting up a barren sea. They passed several more submerged towers of rock, yet there was no great spire towering above the surface like Nazh-rndu’ul or Baltha’s Spine, and after three hours of desperate sailing, the storm began to abate. Lightning flashed across the sky, and the first silhouette of land was struck upon the horizon.
“It’s not over,” Daevan shouted, his gaze skyward. “We’re in the eye. She’ll get much worse again.”
Ohrl looked to the distant island.
“How far do you think it is?”
“In these winds, we might reach it come dawn,” Daevan said. “But we run the risk of spires in the dark.”
“Something draws us near,” Ohrl said. “We’d be caught already if it wanted us dead.”
The comment drew a sharp look from Daevan, but he, too, seemed determined to reach the safety of a sheltered bay.
“Reset the sails,” he commanded. Dawn’s Eclipse lurched forward as the sails were unfurled, their course far more controlled in the slightly less blustering breeze. A slight gap opened in the clouds, and through it they saw the bright constellation that had guided them west. It hung directly over the island, giving the crew hope that their arduous journey was almost at an end, yet barely an hour had passed before the rain came again, drowning out all sight of the island unless a blast of lightning shattered the darkness ahead.
“Spires left,” came the call from the sailor perched atop the mast. The pilot swung them hard to starboard, desperate to avoid the deadly fingers of rock. This time they breached the surface, rising well above the deck.
“Set the poles,” Daevan shouted, and at once all spare hands grabbed the long poles and strapped themselves into place around the front of the ship.
“We’ll be lost if they hit us front on,” Daevan called out to Ohrl, “but we’ll have a fighting chance if they rise broadside.”
Determined not to let his fear show, Ohrl continued to send courage into the minds of all on board, hoping their fortitude would last throughout the night, but it wasn’t until the faintest of dawn’s light blossomed within the eastern horizon when they saw the island erupting from the Great Sea.
As they sailed closer, they realised two islands stood before them. From within the smaller, foremost island, two towering cliffs like encircling arms loomed from the darkness to greet them. The cliffs lowered where they met, and in the frail light, Ohrl thought he could see dense forestry rising to a jungle canopy.
“There’s a bay,” Daevan shouted, pointing to the base of where the cliffs joined. “We’ll find sheltered there if we can make it.”
The swelling sea still rose to claim the horizon, coming at them in two directions as it surged around the island. Fighting to keep the ship on course, the pilot steered them in. Ohrl was reminded of the great entrance into Nazh-rndu’ul, though the seas controlled by Sama’ad were far calmer. Fearing a darker mind, Ohrl let his mind drift into the breeze, hoping to connect with the power drawing them in, but the sound of wood being torn apart broke his concentration, as the ship grated between a row of barely submerged spires guarding the entrance to the bay. Dawn’s Eclipse suddenly snagged on another spire on the port side, and two men were thrown overboard, enveloped immediately within the swelling sea.
“We’re taking on water,” came a shout from below. Ohrl looked to the shoreline of the bay. It looked shallow, a line of shingle lay between the jungle and the sea.
“Can we make it?”
Fearing his two men were lost unless they found refuge upon the spire, Daevan set his gaze ahead.
“Man the oars! Get us into that bay,” he commanded. All crew save Daeven, Ohrl and the pilot ran below deck. They had only enough men for two oars either side, for the rest were furiously trying to pump out water and prevent more from coming inside.
“Man overboard,” came a cry from the watcher in the mast. They all looked to where he was pointing, and saw one of the two sailors floating face down, drifting along the side of the ship. The second suddenly rose behind him, also face down, showing no signs of life.
“They’re caught in our wake,” Daevan said. Ohrl stood beside him against the rail, but realised the bodies were drifting faster than the ship.
laqad kunt 'antazir I’ve been waiting.
almawt yati eindama 'aeud death comes when I return.
Before he could shout a warning, the bodies collided with the broken hull of Dawn’s Eclipse. There was the sound of a scream beneath the wind, then shouts of fear from the crew as their ship’s twisted black wood assimilated the bodies of the dead. Writhing up the hull of Dawn’s Eclipse, both men became black and gnarled, their limbs contorting and solidifying until their forms could not be discerned from the rest of the ship. The hole was plugged, leaving the men struck with fear, unable to explain what they just saw.
“These islands are ruled by death,” Ohrl said quietly to Daevan. “I may have little power here.”
“Just don’t tell that to the crew,” Daevan said, still aghast by the fate of the two men. Giving Ohrl a stern look, he turned to the remaining crew.
“Prepare to drop anchor once we reach shelter. We’ll stay deep in the water and ride the storm out.”