Chapter 07
The cursed day arrived like any other. After three days at sea, the crew were eager to spot the silohuette of Kuan Jun on the horizon near sundown, at the zenith of the festivities following the holy ceremony. While I was but a simple cabin girl, Captain Aria was keen on letting me join the crew for the celebration this year. The two other ships in our convoy were equally as excited, shooting off the odd firecracker while shouting some blasphemous prayer to Dwayna, were she the listening kind.
I remember the moment as clearly as the Gyala shallows that day. Nautus reported a strange cloud on the horizon, foul magic in the air. Next, the sails caved in reverse. I remember the harrowed look in the captain's eyes, the cracking of the wooden masts as the anguished wail of Shiro's foul spirit rode the cursed gale from the shattered temple. Before I could blink, First Mate Dolus had me lashed and tied off near the back of the boat, quickly doing the same for himself. Aria's voice roared above the din of the wind.
"All hands, BRACE!" she cried, for what good it did. One of the luckier ships, we were mid-trough, you see. Our hull cracked and splintered as sea's water froze solid. The mast snapped and fell, crushing the helmsman before he could move, much less scream. I watched as massive fissures cut across the waters nearby, as towering gouts of mist were carried on green winds expelled from the solid depths below, entire shelves of what was once sea water rose and sank as the world around us was rent asunder.
One of the other ships in the convoy, the Salted Spray, was caught out on a crest ahead of us, sheering it in half as a hand might snap a fistful of dry, long noodles. They'd not been as prepared; half their crew already drunk before what should have been a rancorous evening of delights. The third ship similarly fared worse on the crest behind us.
"Kid, kid! You all right, good enough to stand?" I remember Dolus saying with urgency, his hands clasping the sides of my head, wiping away either tears or what little of the sea remained, I don't recall. I could only nod in my concussed state. He turned around, reaching for the helping hand of the captain, slowly rising to his feet. The only clamor to be heard now were the cries of survivors amidst the wreckages now shattered against the haunting stillness of the silent surf.
Lowland Shore: Life in the Lowlands — Read all the books scattered around Lowland Shore. (5
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