A sprawling pall of anxiety fell over the village of Havardr, as the last of the suns set over the horizon, and the moons made their appearance in the clear, star-shine of twilight. The clear skies seemed a good omen for what would be their ongoing whaling expedition off the middle coast of Havardr. Not to mention make visibility a breeze. They almost didn’t even need the lighthouses that had been constructed mid-cycle a season ago.
Even so, the burning spotlights pierced the gloom of early Cylus, like pillars of light threatening any pirate to show their colors.
For Havardr’s part, and its new fleet, they proudly shone the colors woven in their banners and flags, crafted from the hands of Daia’s dancers in Vhalar. Rorom hoisted his own flag, as they prepared to set off with the Onyx Cascade, to accompany the whaling fleet and ensure that this, not the first, but the largest outing by far, utilizing all but one of the cogs to haul as many fish, whales, and other aquatic prey as possible for the welfare of Scalvoris, and Havardr’s returning fortune.
Rorom squinted as he worked the ropes of the boat, and the deck hands pulled up the gangplank, while untying the Cascade from makeshift pier it was docked beside. He had a sense of forboding, he couldn’t ignore. Perhaps it was the suggestions and stories shared by the old Havardreens to the new. Perhaps it was the presence of Breachfang in his soul, threatening to break out of the prison of his self-totem, his own flesh, and wreak havoc and vengeance on the village that had claimed its hide.
He felt its totem in his own body, assimilated. But even though Dana had assured him it would be safe there, he felt better for gripping it with his own hand. As if he alone could resist Breachfang’s lingering will.
At any rate, within a break all of the ships made an orderly disembark from Havardr’s shores. Longboats, keelboats, schooners and cog. They flew Havardr’s colors high above their flagmast, the bright yellow against the sky was easily visible.
Rorom looked at that banner, hanging high above the main mothership, the Cog. He’d assigned Mastrel to captain that boat. And so he had more confidence in its running. Yet the way the red eye of the black squid on Havardr’s regalia glinted, gave him an eerie feeling.
Still, he shook it off. They were out to sea now, no room for fear or doubt, but a heavy harpoon in hand, and a keen eye to spot any whales.
They’d pulled up catches of fish from the deep, several of the longboats, which transferred their catch to the broad-decked keelboats. All went rather smoothly for a few breaks, tons of fish were dredged out of the sea, and a few seals and smaller whales harpooned, brought aboard the second keelboat.
Rorom had an uneasy feeling still, and he couldn’t ignore it. Something in him called him to sail out further to sea, leaving the rest of the fleet behind. He assured the other crewmates that they were just being careful, looking out for any potential dangers out there.
Mastrel, stood on the prow of Havardr’s one cog, watched as the Onyx Cascade floated out beyond the lighthouse’s gleam. Into the gloom beyond the stars. He shook his head, “What’re yer playing at, lad?” But he just went to business, sorting the other ships and their crews, making certain that they’d be ready to make a swift return if need be.
Rorom wasn’t far into the deep when he felt a nudge from the elements. Water called to him, warning him of a large shift. It was always inexact, even though he was well accustomed to interpreting their peculiar way of communiicating. So when the pitch hide of the great Baleen shone through the darkness, reflecting star and moonlight, showing a great glaring scar on its left eye.
“Chrien be damned…” He muttered, as the baleen whale turned its ugly head, to slap the water just to the side of the ship, disrupting its path through the currents. Several of the deckhands felt the sudden jolt, but were able to grab onto the rigging to prevent going overboard.
Rorom shooted out to his higher-ranking crew, Mirq, Bones, and Oreq. Dana and Malmada were on board the Lucky bird, with Noille and Eairok, well out to the south, keeping watch there. Rorom was glad of their safety, and so focused on the fate of his current cargo.
“It’s the pitch-black beast. The very same one!” He warned. Had it followed him from Rharne, from the very delta of the Zynyx?
He shouted orders to his crew, telling them to turn tail, and make back for the fleet. It was just then, as he turned around, that Mastrel’s cog was bearing down on his path, several fathoms out to the northeast of him. Rorom waved, warning him off, but Mastrel seemed not to notice, but pointed frantically at the water, telling his own crew to ready their harpoons.
Mastrel roared at his men, “Get a line in ‘er! It’s the Captain’s beast! We’ll get her snug onboard in a jiff!”
Several harpoons dug into the whale’s flesh, resulting in whoops from the men on Mastrel’s boat. Rorom was not so confident. And yet, as he neared the cog, his concern proved to be his undoing, as something stopped him dead in the water. A loud creaking and splintering was heard from the portside bow. A bit of the whale’s tail stock had lodged itself into the hull.
Oreq shouted at the captian, “Breach! Breach in portside hull! We’re taking water!”
“Well! Bail the water, plug the leak! Whatever you can.” Rorom retorted, as his eyes glanced toward the cog, and what was causing commotion over there. Then he imagined the physiology of the baleen whale. It’s pectoral fin… it appeared to be caught on a splinter or barnacle on the cog. And it was dragging both of their ships down with the force generated by their circling each other.
“Blast it!”
Rorom growled, suddenly taken with a pain that was utterly agonizing.
“Captain!” His men cried, but he didn’t hear them. He could scarcely hear his own thoughts behind the sensation of boiling blood filling his head.
Breachfang had broken its prison, at last. And now it roared to life, diving into the waters, with the captain’s soul in tow.
Rorom struggled with Breachfang then, as it swam through the deep. He didn’t know what the beast had planned, but it couldn’t be good, as its eye turned to fixate on the banner of Havardr over the flag mast of the cog. No. Rorom thought, from within the beast’s form. And with a great effort, he exerted his will over the large body, larger than any the becomer had a right to inhabit at his skill in the magic.
He tore through the waters, betraying Breachfang’s will, and subverting it as he drove his teeth through the Black Baleen’s pectoral fin that had been lodged in the cog.
Above the battle below, Mastrel spotted Breachfang, and shouted, “There’s two of them now! Double up on the harpoons men! We’ll bring them out of there.”
So then, as Rorom tore through the pectoral fin, severing it and thus saving both of their ships from a watery grave, a tailspin into the deep, the Baleen whale’s mournful song hit Rorom’s newly formed sea-wolf ears. And he heard its voice for the first time ever.
The Whale’s song was a thing of beauty, and he almost regretted his life of hunting the beasts, for the beauty they presented. This occurred to him, as several harpoons pierced the water around him. His defiance spark, pulled in more ether to power a guardian defense against these harpoons, but was only able to command so much ether out of Rorom’s exhausted soul. Most of them missed, one did not, and grazed his pectoral fin, which would’ve been his arm.
Rorom cried out, and the transformation began to reverse. He felt Breachfang’s body melting away, back into his biqaj body. And there he sank, into the deep, yet the elements still had a means to preserve him against the icy cold, directing a warm current to bear him south, toward the Lucky Bird.
The Onyx Cascade and Cog being saved, they made their way back to the fleet with such a crew as they had. Mirq took command of the cascade, and joined the rest of the fleet. The news of Rorom’s fall and disappearance soon filtered around the village.
Meanwhile, the crew of the Lucky Bird, such as it was, found Rorom’s body. It was Dana that spotted him floating across the surface of icy waters. “THERE!” She screamed, covering her ears and eyes as she sank into a terrified stupor. Malmada tried to comfort her, meanwhile.
Eairok pulled him on board, while Noille turned the tiller of the sloop. They examined his wounds and could see the livid gash left by the harpoon on his right arm. “That doesn’t look like enough to put him out… it must be something else.”
“It’s the magic, the beast overtook him… He needs…”
“He needs the Lady of Limbs. We’ll get her to fix this.” Eairok intoned, solemnly.
Noille lifted a brow at him, “Who is the Lady of Limbs?”
“The sea witch that cursed him with the beast, and the bedeviled him with the elemental influences. She will fix this, or we’ll all make her do so.”
Noille crossed her arms, “Why hasn’t he told me of this Lady of Limbs?”
Eairok winced as he wrapped the wounds of Rorom in a sloppy bandage. “Well… you know, women talk and… He thought it best only to tell his closest…”
Noille slapped him, “Stop that.” She said, tears forming in her eyes, “And you.” She said to Rorom’s unconscious form, “If you don’t die, I’ll feed you to the sharks mysefl.”
So saying, she made her way up to the steering of the ship, and followed Eairok’s heading, to the Scaltoth sea caves where the Sea Witch made her lair.
On the 10th of Cylus, Rorom awoke with a ragged breath. He saw nothing, but felt… better than he had in many years. Like he’d been reborn almost. The wound in his arm wasn’t there, as if he’d dreamt it. Yet… His surroundings betrayed a difference in fortunes. He looked around, searching the darkness for any sign of anyone, anything. Or to confirm if he’d dreamt it all, and never left the lair of the Lady of Limbs.
“Easy there.” Said a familiar voice. Rorom turned on his backside, and scuttled backward. He saw a ghost. It wore the face of Linca… And yet… It’s scent. He would know it. It wasn’t Linca. “Lady of Limbs… What fresh devilry is this?”
The false Linca smiled with a cruel twist of his lips. “You’d be surprised how much a lock of hair and finger can be bartered for, from a pirate that has little use of it. I had my pound of flesh from Linca, and I intend to use it.”
“How?” Rorom growled, narrowing his eyes, “And where is my crew?”
But when his eyes cleared, he realized it was just his imagination, or perhaps a trick of his memory. The knock to his head might've been worse than he thought. Yet he knew the Lady of Limbs had been there, and healed her initiate. But where were the others?
