James Lowder - Crusade

"Then we'll have to arrange the army as best we can," Brunthar Elventree offered at last. "Take advantage of what we have."

As the generals set about organizing, then reorganizing the army into fighting units, Thom Reaverson scratched notes into soft clay tablets. Parchment and ink were too expensive to waste on note-taking, so the bard always took down ideas and important information on a clay tablet. He would later meticulously transfer those same notes to paper and wipe the tablet clean to be used again.

The discussion lasted for hours. As the subject turned from troop organization to supply lines to potential battlefields, the lantern that hung from a beam at the center of the cabin swayed more and more. The wind soon howled outside the ship, though that sound couldn't drown out the deep, tortured creaking of plank on plank. At first the signs of the incipient storm didn't alarm King Azoun or the others in the great cabin. However, when waves started breaking against the heavy windows at the end of the room, Azoun and Vangerdahast decided to go on deck to see what was happening.

Sailors were rushing everywhere, and as the king reached the deck, he was stung by a hard, cold rain. He motioned for Vangerdahast to stay below, for it was clear that aboveboard on the ship was a dangerous place to be. The royal wizard still felt weak from his earlier sickness, so he didn't even consider arguing. As Vangerdahast shuffled back to the great cabin, Azoun pushed himself toward the railing.

The king soon found that it was difficult to see. Storm clouds had blotted out the moon, and the fierce wind made any other light source almost impossible to maintain. The rain slashed across the sky, almost parallel with the sea, and waves reared up over the railing and crashed down with frightening speed and power. The king shielded his face as best he could and struggled toward the wheel, where the Welleran's captain stationed himself during a storm.

Before Azoun could take three steps away from the railing, a sailor ran into him, knocking him to the deck. The youth didn't stop to apologize or even help the king to his feet. Instead, he dashed to the railing and emptied a large coffer he held in both hands into the water. Azoun gasped; he saw glints of gold and silver as the metal in the box spilled into the sea.

"All the treasure in my cabin," Azoun heard a shrill voice cry. "Into the water with it!" The sailor spun around and dashed toward the voice.

A wave crashed onto the deck and slammed the king into the nearest section of gunwale. Azoun stood as quickly as he could and grabbed a line. As he wiped his wet hair from his eyes, a strong, dark hand clasped onto his shoulder.

"I thought you might want some company up here," Farl Bloodaxe yelled, trying to be heard over the wind, "when Vangerdahast came back without you."

Azoun nodded and looked toward the wheel. "Have you seen Captain Merimna, Farl? I heard his voice a moment ago."

As if in reply, the shrill voice relayed another order from the rain-darkened ship, then Captain Merimna himself stumbled toward Azoun. "Into the rigging and clew up the topsails! In the studding sails!" he cried, his right hand cupped next to his mouth.

"Captain Merimna," Azoun called.

The Welleran's gaunt commander turned his face toward the forecastle and yelled, "Bring out all the gold. Dump it over the edge and give Umberlee her due!"

Farl grabbed the sea captain and spun the man around. A sudden fork of lightning split the sky and illuminated him. The captain was soaked, like everyone else on deck, and his sodden royal blue uniform clung to him heavily. He didn't seem to notice the rain; his eyes, huge with terror, were focused on some vague, distant threat. "Umberlee's due," he mumbled.

"May all the gods of Good protect us," Farl muttered. "They didn't give the Goddess of Oceans enough tribute before we left!" The soldier gripped the captain with both hands now. "That's it, isn't it?"

Merimna nodded, then pulled away from Farl and rushed toward the bow. Another wave washed over the gunwale, and both Azoun and Farl lost sight of the gaunt captain.

"What is it, Farl?"

"The captain didn't offer a sacrifice to Umberlee before we left port. If we don't appease her, we're all dead men." In the darkness, Azoun could barely see his face, but he could tell from Farl's voice that he was frightened.

"From that look in his eyes, I'd guess Merimna's useless to us now," Azoun said. "I know you've had a little experience with ships like this, so take command and keep us afloat." After a second, he added, "I'll find suitable tribute."

Without waiting for a reply from Farl, the king struggled toward the hatch. The ebony-skinned general was already barking orders. Shouts from panicked sailors and the noise of masts bending in the gale obscured what the man said, but Azoun was certain that Farl Bloodaxe could get them through the storm.

The king burst into the great cabin, cold and shivering. "We've offended Umberlee," he shouted. "No one offered her tribute before we left Suzail."

Vangerdahast cursed loudly. Thom Reaverson said a quick, silent prayer to Lord Oghma, the patron god of bards, asking for his protection from the storm. Barring that, Thom prayed that a suitably glorious tale would be written about them. Brunthar Elventree, on the other hand, whispered something to Mielikki, the Lady of the Forest, asking that he be allowed to see the trees in Battledale again.

Lord Harcourt leaned forward in his chair and steepled his fingers. "We need something of great value right away," he noted stoically. A wave crashed against the stern, shattering a pane of leaded glass. "We lost a flagship this way, back in the Year of the Dragon. Nasty business." He tugged at the corner of his mustache and frowned. "It's our responsibility as flagship to make the proper sacrifice. If she's not happy with the offering, Umberlee will take the flagship instead. Oh, anyone in her way will be sunk, but she'll head straight for us.. "

Azoun pulled open a chest and uncovered a few brilliant, multifaceted gems. Brunthar emptied a dozen gold pieces from a leather bag at his belt and dumped them on the table. Vangerdahast and Thom did the same. Lord Harcourt stood and walked to the center of the room.

He glanced at the gathered wealth and shook his head. "Umberlee wants something we value. Something important to us. We must-"

The sound of splintering wood and tearing canvas stopped the cavalry commander from continuing. Farl Bloodaxe's voice carried over the chaos on deck, and the men in the great cabin could hear his commands over the storm. From what Farl was telling the crew to do, Azoun concluded that one of the masts was breaking.

After running a hand through his wet, tangled hair, Azoun reached up and steadied the swaying lantern. He paused in that position to think. Across the table from the king, the royal magician and the dalesman pelted Lord Harcourt with questions. Some of their queries were drowned out by the wind and water whistling in through the broken window.

Like Azoun, Thom Reaverson stood silently in thought. He braced himself against the cabin wall and listened to the thud of waves crashing against the hull and washing over the deck. A hundred stories of misadventures at sea filled the bard's head, and he briefly reviewed each one for something that might help. Then an idea came to him, not part of a particular story, but related to all of them. He walked to the cabinet, opened it, and took out the finely carved wooden box containing his pen set and the completed pages of the crusade's annals.

As the bard left the cabin, Azoun turned to follow; Lord Harcourt, Vangerdahast, and Brunthar Elventree were too caught up in their argument to notice. The king found Thom Reaverson tossing page after finely lettered page into the sea. Rain slashed the sheets and the wind whipped the water-laden parchment, then dashed each page into the waves.