Chapter 28 – The Sea Voyage I
Day 5
Gradually, the first light of dawn began to break through the darkness, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange. As the sun began to rise, Shawn and Makara finally reached the coastal city of King Hersery’s kingdom, and with physical enhancement on the horse, they did not stop anywhere, and the horses weren’t exhausted anywhere. They pulled their horses to a halt, taking in the sight before them. The air was thick with the salty scent of the sea, mingling with the aroma of raw fish that seemed to permeate everything. The waves crashed against the shoreline, their rhythmic pounding a stark contrast to the eerie silence that hung over the area.
The boats were scattered along the shoreline, their hulls rocking gently with the motion of the waves. Some were tethered to the planks of the docks, while others had drifted slightly, their ropes slack and unattended. The salty breeze whipped through the air, ruffling the feathers of a flock of seagulls perched on the top lines of the ships. They squawked loudly, their cries echoing across the empty harbour.
Makara took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of the ocean and fish. “Ah, nothing like the smell of raw fish in the morning,” he said with a grin. “Sake with dried fish… now that’s called breakfast. I can’t wait to have some,” but as they looked around, it became clear that something was amiss. The docks were deserted, devoid of the usual bustling activity one would expect at this hour. No fishermen preparing their nets, no merchants haggling over the morning’s catch. The area seemed abandoned; the only signs of life were the seagulls and the occasional stray cat wandering among the boats.
Shawn’s brow furrowed with concern. “It’s too quiet,” he murmured, his eyes scanning the empty shoreline. “Where is everyone?” Makara shrugged, though a hint of unease flickered in his eyes. “Maybe they’ve already gone to aid in the war. Or maybe taken refuge, with war on the horizon, who knows what’s going on?”
“We should find someone to take us to the Atlantis kingdom,” Shawn suggested. “Let’s look around. Maybe someone might still be here.”
Makara nodded, then, as usual, he started drinking. “Right. Let’s find someone”, he urged his horse forward, leading the way along the shore, his eyes scanning the empty boats and deserted docks for any sign of life. As they moved deeper into the dock area, the silence grew even more pronounced, broken only by the crash of the waves and the distant cry of the gulls. The sun was rising higher now, casting long shadows across the empty docks, and with every step.
As Shawn and Makara ventured further along the deserted docks, they finally spotted a figure hunched over by one of the boats, half-hidden by the shadows of a large, weather-beaten fishing vessel. An old fisherman, with a weathered face and hands that spoke of decades of labour on the open sea, sat on a wooden crate, meticulously repairing a torn fishing net. His hair, a tangled mess of salt and silver, blew wildly in the sea breeze, and his clothes were patched in more places than one, yet his eyes were sharp and alert.
Makara’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fisherman, and without a moment’s hesitation, he strode over without startling the old fisherman. “Ahoy there, old man!” Makara called out, startling the fisherman from his work. “We’re looking for someone to take us to Atlantis. Can you help us?”
The fisherman looked up, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the newcomers. “Atlantis, ye say?” His voice was rough like gravel, carrying the weight of countless storms and endless nights on the open sea. “What business ye got in Atlantis, hmm? Ain’t many folks keen on travelling’ there these days, with all the rumours of war and whatnot.”
Shawn stepped forward, holding up the medal King Hersery had given him, “We’re on orders from King Hersery,” he explained. The old fisherman’s eyes flicked to the medal, and his expression softened slightly. “An order from the king, eh?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then gave a curt nod. “Alright, I’ll take ye, but it won’t be an easy journey, as the seas are unpredictable during this season. We will reach Atlantis tomorrow midday, if the winds favour us.”
Makara clapped the old man on the back, “So roughly two days, you say? Sounds like the perfect time to share a few drinks and some good stories!” He pulled out his gourd and offered it to the fisherman, who eyed it with a curious gleam before taking a hearty swig.
“Aye, now you’re talking,” the fisherman chuckled, handing the flask back to Makara. “Name’s Jarken, by the way. Been fishing these waters longer than most folks have been alive, and I’ve seen things out there… things ye wouldn’t believe.”
Makara’s grin widened as he took a seat next to Jarken, pulling out a small bundle from his bag. “Dried fish, anyone?” he offered, revealing a few fresh catches he had picked up earlier. Jarken’s eyes lit up, and without hesitation, he grabbed a piece and tore into it with gusto.
“Now that’s a man after my own heart,” Jarken laughed, his voice carrying a rough yet jovial tone. “Nothing’ like a bit of dried fish and good company to make a man forget his troubles.”
Shawn watched as Makara and Jarken quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm, sharing swigs of sake and tearing into the fish with the enthusiasm of old friends. For a moment, it was as if the troubles of the world had faded away, replaced by the simple pleasures of food, drink, and camaraderie.
After a while, Jarken leaned back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Alright, lads,” he said, his tone turning serious once more. “If we’re heading to Atlantis, we’d best be on our way. The tides are changing, and we’ll want to catch the current while it’s in our favour.”
Makara nodded, clapping Jarken on the back. “Let’s set sail then, old man. The sooner we get to Atlantis, the better.”
Jarken rose from his crate, his movements surprisingly nimble for a man of his age. “Aye, follow me,” he said, leading them down the dock. As they walked down the docks, “My boat, she’s a fine beauty,” Jarken said with a grin. “Weathered storms that cracked the sky and tides that swallowed leviathans, yet she still stands proud. No wave dares break her, and she cuts through the sea like a silverfin chasing the moon.”
Hearing that, Makara and Shawn exchanged impressed glances, already picturing a mighty vessel with golden sails and an ironclad hull. “Hearing your words,” Makara said, smirking, “she must be a sea goddess forged by the ocean itself.”
They passed by rows of grand, gleaming ships that could carry entire villages, but Jarken marched past them all until he stopped at a small, old, stubborn-looking boat tied to the dock. “This is the beauty that will get us there.”
Makara’s mouth fell open. Shawn just blinked in disbelief. Especially Makara, who felt her hopes sink like an anchor, “This… this rickety thing was going to take them to Atlantis?”
Jarken quickly cast the ropes aside and clambered aboard. “Climb aboard,” he barked, “time and tide wait for none, lad!”
Shawn sighed and stepped on carefully. “Well… It’s better than nothing.”
Makara groaned, took a sip from his gourd, “Well… if my end is to be drowned by the sea, then so be it,” and with that, he climbed aboard too.
Once all climbed aboard the boat, Jarken quickly set to work, untying the ropes, raising the sails and pulling the anchor. As they pulled away from the dock, the wind caught the sails, propelling them forward into the open sea. The waves lapped against the sides of the boat, and the salty breeze filled their lungs with the invigorating scent of the ocean.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a golden glow over the water. Shawn stood at the bow, feeling the spray of the sea on his face and the wind in his hair. He had never been on a boat before, and despite the seriousness of their mission, he couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.
Jarken steered the boat with a practised hand, his eyes scanning the horizon.
As the day wore on, the journey proved to be anything but mundane. They passed through waters teeming with life—schools of shimmering fish darted beneath the boat, and dolphins leapt playfully in their wake, but the further they ventured, the more the sea seemed to change. The water grew darker, the waves more turbulent. The air grew colder, and a thick mist began to roll in, obscuring their view.
Makara and Shawn exchanged uneasy glances. “What’s happening?” Shawn asked, his voice barely audible over the rising wind.
Jarken’s expression was grim. “We’re entering the Shadow Waters,” he said quietly. “A place where the veil between worlds is thin. Jarken, his grip tightening on the wheel. “The sea’s full of mysteries, young lad. Best keep yer eyes forward and yer wits sharp.”
After a day of travel, the sun sank below the horizon and the moon rose, casting its pale glow across a sky strewn with stars. The ocean grew eerily still, the water smooth as glass beneath the midnight moon that hung high in a cloudless sky. The air was motionless, and the silence felt almost unnatural, broken only by the gentle lapping of water against the boat’s hull.
“Well,” Jarken said, stretching his back, “that’s as far as we’re sailing today.” He quickly lowered the sails and dropped the anchor.
“Why are we stopping here?” Shawn asked, frowning, while Makara—completely drunk—sat slouched in the corner of the boat and quietly humming to himself.
Jarken straightened, looking out across the sea. “Because this is as far as we dare go tonight. The wind’s gone still, the waves are dead calm, and pushing on would be like taunting the deep, and also look around, lad.”
Shawn turned and blinked in awe. The sea had become a perfect mirror, reflecting the entire night sky so clearly it felt as if they were adrift among the stars themselves.
“Well then,” Jarken said, his grin returning, “let’s have dinner.”
He joined them at the centre of the boat, pulling a worn leather satchel from under a plank. Inside were a few loaves of wheat bread, strips of cooked fish wrapped in cloth, and a small bottle of rum—at the sight of which Makara’s face lit up and he quickly rushed towards them.
“You know,” Makara said, perking up as she reached for the bottle, “the only thing better than food and rum… is food, rum, and a good old sea tale.”
Jarken, then, broke the quiet with a gravelly voice that carried a hint of a storyteller’s flair as he took a swig of rum. “You know, there used to be a great beast that roamed these waters,” he began, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon. “A monster the size of a mountain, with a maw ten times bigger than a whale’s, six eyes that glowed in the dark like lanterns, and tentacles long enough to wrap around entire ships and drag them down to the depths.” He paused, letting the suspense build. “They called it the Kraken.”
Shawn listened intently, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling at the thought. “The Kraken?” he repeated, eyes wide.
“Aye,” Jarken nodded, a dark glint in his eye. “Its roar could send waves crashing for miles, a beast of pure terror that consumed many a fisherman and pirate alike. But they say—” and here he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper— “they say that King Atlann himself defeated the Kraken. Some say it’s just a myth, but others swear it’s true.”
Makara, his usual sardonic expression, chuckled and had a hiccup because of the rum. “A tale like that… well, you never know what’s truth or legend in these parts.”
Jarken replied, “Well… true or not, some fishermen swear the kraken still lives—wounded, waiting, and some even claim they’ve heard its cry echoing from the deepest dark belo….” As the last words left his mouth, Jarken slumped sideways, passed out. Then Shawn heard a snore, and it was Makara who was already gone before Jarken. Shawn let out a quiet sigh, covered the two of them with a spare cloth, then settled himself against the mast. The gentle rocking of the boat soon lulled him into sleep under the night sky.
Comment (0)