Chapter Two
The storm had broken by the time dawn came. With the seas calm, they were able to get a better view of what lay ahead. The two cliffs towered around them. Where they met, waves lapped upon a shallow, sandy beach. Tall trees lined the edge, the likes of which Ohrl had never seen. The rough, branchless trunks towered into the air, topped by lush green fronds, each one larger that a man.
“Look, there’s fruit,” Ohrl said to Daevan as the captain joined him beside the rail. He pointed to a collection of what looked like large seeds hanging beneath the tree’s leaves. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”
Daevan shook his head.
“That forest is dense. They look like vines. Just a tangled mess.”
The forest covered the rise, which lead to a tall tower of rock poking out the top that blocked any view of the rest of the island.
“We’ll need to stock up,” Daevan said. “And find out how much damage those spires did to the ship.”
Ohrl joined Daevan as he dropped the longboat, taking two crew to help inspect the portside hull. Ohrl was surprised to see barely a mark where the ship had been wrenched apart, the twisted forms of the sailors’ bodies imperceptible against the blackened hardwood.
“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Ohrl asked. Daeven nodded, looking to his two crew.
“We’ve all seen our ships replenished by the dead. We were never entirely safe from spires surrounding Nazh-rndu’ul, but we thought it a power only Sama’ad had.”
Ohrl looked to the island interior, wondering what lay in waiting. With the wind gone, he heard none of the whispers. They’d come only with the anger and violence of the storm.
“The ship’s seaworthy inside,” came a shout from above. A sailor leaned over the railing, and Daevan signalled his acknowledgement.
“We’ll take rest here. Explore the island. Stock up with what we can.”
When they returned to the deck, Daevan chose two men to remain onboard, while the rest of the crew gathered sacks and waterskins. Very little of the island could be seen, but from what Ohrl saw the night before, it was clear that something larger lay behind it, unsure whether it was attached or another island. Large birds flew high above, and within the forest they heard strange, whooping calls. As they landed on the beach, they became aware of an incessant buzzing, a high pitched screech like a million mosquitoes all attacking at once.
While the two men rowed the longboat back to the ship, Ohrl, Daevan and the rest of the crew set off to explore the island. Passing under the tall, branchless trees, Ohrl saw that several of the fruit pods had fallen. Those still attached to the trees were green, but the ones on the ground had started to become brown and dry.
“There’s liquid inside,” a sailor said, picking one up and shaking it. He tried slitting it with the hilt of his sword, but the blade simply ricocheted off the pod.
“It’s tough, whatever it is,” the sailor said. He took the dagger strapped to his robes and stabbed into the fruit’s flesh. It barely went in, but after pounding both the fruit pod and the dagger onto a rock, he managed to wrench part of the flesh free.
“Fibrous,” he said, giving it a sniff. He took a little in his mouth, then spat it out. “Bitter.”
He continued hacking until eventually a brown husk was discovered inside. Peeling the last of the flesh away, he began smashing the husk against a rock, until it finally broke. Creamy viscous liquid spilled out. Saving what he could, he took a sip.
“It’s like thin goat’s milk left in the sun,” he said, but he took another sip. “Never knew I liked tepid goat’s milk.”
He handed it to another sailor, who also found he desired the strange taste.
“The fresh ones might be sweeter,” Daevan said, looking to the pods hanging in the trees. “We’ll collect them when we return.”
Signalling for them to move out, they marked a path toward the lowest point over the ridge leading into the island interior. The forest was relatively thin near the beach, but as the incline rose, so did the dense volume of vines wrapping their way around the trees. Air became humid, and Ohrl felt sweat trickle down his robes. He’d been in far hotter conditions in the deep south of Kjat, but the humidity sapped all energy as they fought their way toward the top of the valley.
When they breached the peak, they found a small, rocky outcrop that punched its way above the trees. Accustomed to climbing rigging during far more treacherous times, one of the sailors scrambled up the sloped face, the dusty moss crumbling with each step.
“I think you better see this, captain,” he called out once he reached the top. Curious, Daevan took the first step, then turned to Ohrl, gesturing for him to follow. As Ohrl climbed, he was reminded of times with Fulke, Haarlund and Jossi hunting kaaldreer in the forests near Brúnn. The outcrop steepened as it rose, but soon he burst free of the forest canopy, relieved to breathe fresh air unspoiled by the closeness of the jungle.
Their island dropped away beneath them, the slope far gentler than the one they just climbed. It was not large but spread out like five spokes of a wheel. There was a large gap where it looked like a sixth spoke should be, but the island had eroded over time into the sea. In its place, waves pounded into a great cliff. Yet Ohrl’s gaze was drawn beyond their island, for a much larger land mass towered out of the sea. It looked circular, with a ring of dense jungle and pillars of stone punching through the canopy similar to the one they had just climbed. The area inland appeared to be barren rock, created as though it was once fluid then solidified. Ohrl had seen similar sights within glaciers where water upon gentle slopes had frozen, the cascades impossibly still while waiting until summer to thaw. A great mound rose from the centre. Black smoke poured from a crevasse in the top as though a great fire burned within.
‘ana huna I am here
‘ana ‘antazir I am waiting.
“What is it?” Daevan asked. Shaking the whispers from his head, Ohrl had no answer. Around its perimeter, the island seemed to teem with life. They saw sea birds riding the currents, flying from their perches high in the forest canopy and drifting far out to sea, but the interior looked lifeless, a barren labyrinth of death and decay, leaving Ohrl in no doubt as to where he must go if he was to find Izz al-Din.
“We’ll get a closer look from down there,” Daevan said, pointing to a spot at the edge of the cliff on their island where the forest ended. He looked to Dawn’s Eclipse resting in the bay.
“It can’t be more than a few hours away,” he said, comparing the distances to each side of the island. “The island’s flatter down there. Might be more chance of food or animals.”
Ohrl scanned the horizon.
“There’s no sign of Na’ilah’s ship.”
He looked at the larger island, wondering if she had already found shelter, then nodded for Daevan to push on to the other side of the island. Whispers continued drifting over the breeze, but Ohrl pushed them aside, unable to discern what they said, finding relief as they entered the canopy’s shade.
“We’ll make for the coast,” Daevan said to the rest of his men as they reached the forest floor. “We’ll cut our way through, make a path so we can find our way back.”
Though vines clung to trees and hung from branches, most were sprawled across the forest floor. There were hints of rocky pathways, perhaps used by animals, but there had been no sign of anything apart from birds since they arrived. Ohrl wondered if the island was simply too isolated to have anything but bird life, for if Izz al-Din was not here, they were perhaps the first people to reach the island. Taking the path of least resistance, the crew of Dawn’s Eclipse hacked their way through the jungle, descending slowly down the ridge until they came to a clearing adorned by a large pool of water.
“Look,” one of the men said, pointing to the centre. “Bubbles. It looks like a fresh spring.”
Kneeling at the edge of the pool, he cupped his hand into the water and cautiously took a sip.
“It’s clean,” he grinned, then dipped both hands in and swallowed as much as he could take.
“Fill the skins,” Daevan ordered. “At least we’ve found a source of water.”
Glad to taste cool, fresh water, Ohrl took his share, then looked over the edge where water from the pool spilled over a small cliff and disappeared into the trees below.
“We’ll follow its course,” Daevan said, coming to his side, then turned to command his men. “Cut a path either side of that stream. That’s our way down.”
Once the skins had been filled, each of them scrambled down the cliff to where the water had gouged a shallow path through the rock. A thick mass of vines entangled the undergrowth on either side, engulfing rocks as well as wrapping their way around trees and up branches, becoming one with almost every form of life. Next to the water, the vines were slippery and treacherous, but they were so tightly bound that only a few thin plants grew through the cover. Easily able to hack their way through, Daevan’s men continued forging a path either side of the stream.
As the slope faded and they neared the island’s outer rim, their path became blocked by dense wall of long grass. It spread in both directions away from the stream, disappearing into the jungle with no end in sight.
“The water burrows underneath,” one of the men said. Daevan crouched where the water disappeared beneath an archway of grass, having forged its way through the rock.
“We’ll have to cut our way through,” he said, looking at the tall grass. It stood twice their height, the tall strands barely a finger’s width.
“Look,” Ohrl said. “The vines stop before the grass. It’s the only plant they don’t touch.”
As though Ohrl had served a warning, the sailors standing closest stepped back, suddenly afraid, causing one of them to laugh.
“I’ll not let it be said that men of House Sdra’fhol are afraid of grass,” he shouted. Pushing through the others, the sailor raised his curved blade and hacked through the nearest bush. He cut cleanly through, the severed strands getting caught on those still attached to the rest of the plant. After a second cut, the sailor reached out with his bare hands and took hold of the fallen strands, pulling them away so he could further clear the path.
“Ow,” he shouted, suddenly loosening his grip. Retracting his hand., Ohrl saw blood flowing through the creases of his palm, coming from dozens of cuts raked through his skin.
“The grass,” another sailor said, carefully inspecting a fallen strand. “It’s serrated.”
Intrigued, Ohrl took a closer look. From stem to tip along both edges, the grass resembled one of the long double edged saws he'd seen used to cut down trees in the forests of Brúnn. While the grass itself was a bright green, he noted a slight yellow colouring the fringes.
“Show me your hand,” he said to the bleeding sailor.
“It’s nothing,” the sailor said, pulling his hand away, but Ohrl quickly forced him to expose his palm, sending a jab of compliance into his mind.
“Just a scratch,” the sailor said, embarrassed to be the focus of everyone’s attention, but already faint black lines had appeared either side of each cut and were tracking outward under his skin.
“Poison,” Ohrl said to Daevan. “Probably why the vines won’t touch it.”
Alarmed, the sailor looked closely at his hand.
“Do any of you have gloves?” Ohrl called out to the others.
Two men raised their hands.
“Good. Put them on,” Ohrl said. “The rest of you, cover your skin as best you can. Hack your way through, but no one touches that grass apart from these men.”
He turned back to the sailor with the cut hand.
“You’ll be okay,” he said as reassuringly as he could. “Remember. Men of House Sdra’fhol are not afraid of grass.”
The sailor nodded, covering his hand as though hiding it would make the poison go away. Ohrl was about to join the others when he a subtle whisper drifted upon the wind. No one else reacted. Turning to find the source, Ohrl caught sight of tiny vines spreading over the blood smeared rocks stained from the sailor’s cuts. Taking the sailor aside, Daevan plunged an empty water skin into the stream then used it to clean the sailor’s wound.
“Keep an eye on it,” was the captain’s only warning, then he, too, joined his men as they all continued hacking their way through the grass on either side of the stream. Their passage was slow and the swings not so deep, for all were conscious of not letting the finely serrated edges breach their skin.
The grass continued for thirty feet until abruptly ending at the edge of a steep drop. Beyond that ridgeline, the island was barren, but they had come out not far from where they had seen the sixth finger of rock crumble into the sea. The men were in awe of the vast island before them, the lowlands densely forested until it rose into the distant interior, where smoke poured from the peak of the towering Spire.
“We’ll get a better view from the edge,” Daevan said, leading the way down the steep slope. When they reached the bottom, Ohrl noted that the rock seemed smoothed, as though great boulders had somehow melted and oozed out of the forest. He looked back to the interior of their own island. Nothing rimmed the melted stone but the tall layer of cutting grass. It was though it held all life within its borders, and Ohrl wondered if the grass ringed the entire island. The only gap he could see penetrating the barrier was the one they’d just made.
With their attention focused on the larger island set off the coast, they made their way to the collapsed cliffs. They were still high above the water. Though the second island protected them, large waves still pounded below, churning though great fields of seaweed as it sucked out to sea then was thrust against the smooth stone once more. Sea spray and mist covered the lower reaches of the larger island, but the forest seemed far denser, twisted and choked with vines in the undergrowth while towering cliffs of rock and tall trees with wide canopies punched through the forest roof. Great sea birds drifted upon the wind, soaring just above the surface of the water as though flying took no effort at all.
“We’ll look for a safe harbour on the eastern side,” Daevan said quietly, scanning the clefts in the cliffs. “Let’s hope they’re there.”
Ohrl could feel the pull of the island. He knew something lay within, he could sense an undeniable presence. It drifted to him on the wind, yet the clarity of its call broke as each wave smashed against the cliffs below. Wishing only to get back to the ship and set sail for the island, Ohrl turned, but was suddenly stopped by Daevan clutching his arm.
“Give me a scope. Quick,” Daevan called out. A long eyeglass was handed to him. Stretching it out, he focused the resin, searching the base of a cliff reaching toward the northern most edge.
“There,” he said, passing the scope to Ohrl and pointing to what looked like spires thrust out of the water. Ohrl looked through the eyepiece, seeing nothing but waves swallowing the spires only to spit them back out, when beyond them, closer to the cliff, he caught sight of the broken hull of a boat. His heart froze.
“It’s been torn apart.”
“It’s not one of the wooden ships Baelin sent,” Daevan said. “It could be one of Görkem’s. It’s unclear if Na’ilah and Lady Sdra’fhol were on board.”
Through the haze, Ohrl saw no signs of life. The sails looked in tatters, flapping uselessly in the breeze. The port side appeared breached, skewered by one of the spires then snagged on another closer to the cliff.
“We were saved only by our hull reabsorbing the Dead,” Daevan said, looking at the water churning at the base of the cliff. “Against that storm and those spires, a boat like that wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
Searching through the scope, Ohrl realised that Na’ilah’s ship was caught at the entrance to a larger inlet. It was difficult to make out, for the great cliffs reached out like fingers trying to pull the ship in, yet the more he looked, the more he believed he saw a canyon within the harbour.
Jidniun Find me
‘ana ‘antazir I am waiting.
“They’re alive,” he whispered, almost succumbing to inviting touch.
“Then we’ll have to find them in the morning,” Daevan said. “It’ll be too late to return to our ship and reach the island before nightfall. I’ll not risk becoming trapped like them.”
Ohrl nodded, his mood buoyant that Na’ilah was not far ahead, perhaps watching them from somewhere on the island.
“Back to the Eclipse,” Daevan shouted to his men. “Elsa Sdra’fhol’s ship is in sight. Tomorrow, we find out what this mission is worth.”
There was a cheer from most of the men, their faith rekindled now that they had found what appeared to be a bountiful land, but as they moved off, heading back toward the path they’d forged through the grass, Ohrl saw the man who cut himself stumble against the rocks, and seemed barely able to stand.
By the time Ohrl approached, the sailor’s face was ashen white.
“Get up soldier,” Daevan shouted. “There’s medicine back at the ship.” He went to help the man to stand, but Ohrl held him back. His sweat seemed red, as though blood seeped through his pores. Unable to remain on his feet, the sailor fell back, his bleeding palm pressed against the stone.
“Help me,” he rasped, but all stepped away as vines appeared from tiny cracks in the stone. The tendrils were thin, seemingly attracted by the fresh blood, and quickly entwined their way around his bleeding hand. Realising what was about to happen, Ohrl took off his outer robe and wrapped his hands.
“Get him off that rock, but don’t touch his skin,” he shouted. The men stood still, frozen with fear as the island began to consume their friend.
“Do it!” Ohrl commanded, and at once those closest covered their hands and tried lifting their fallen comrade off the ground. Yet, by now, the tendrils had already taken hold of both hands. They gripped tight, almost turning back to stone once they had taken hold. Slowly, they twisted their way up the man’s arms, consuming him like the vines strangled the forest trees. Inch by inch he was pulled back, until Ohrl and the others were forced to let go, afraid the vines would take hold and consume them, too.
Howling in pain yet unable to speak, the sailor profusely sweated blood, causing larger tendrils to emerge from the stone. They wrapped around his torso, then his face and neck, searching for a fresh taste before finding their way into his screaming throat. He gurgled once, then fell silent as he was pulled into the stone. Daevan’s men had all seen a similar sight of colleagues being consumed beneath the bridges leading to Sama’ad’s fortress, and they knew there was no hope of his survival. The rock seemed to soften around him, and slowly he was consumed within, until nothing remained.
“Return to the ship,” Daevan solemnly said, making sure he avoided standing where the last few tendrils were retreating into the stone. “And whatever you do, don’t get cut. That’s one hell of a way to make sure nothing but birds leave this island.”
The others grunted as they left, knowing there was nothing they could do for their fallen comrade, but Ohrl remained standing, staring across the channel to Na’ilah’s ship. He had no doubt that what protected this island also reigned supreme where she was, but there was a far darker burden luring him toward the heart of those treacherous shores.