Chapter Three: The Storm
Tranith Argan: Book 3
The four travelers on the makeshift raft face a storm.
It wasn’t long before the sea began forcefully rocking their raft, whitecaps appearing on the water and waves building higher. Alessa tied their packs to the raft as tightly as she could, and gathered everything loose. They sat down. It was becoming rough.
The rain began, at first isolated drops that hit their faces, but quickly it changed to a downpour. The little group huddled in the center of the raft which was now swaying rhythmically down and up under the darkened sky.
As the rain continued, the wind picked up even more and the sea currents became more violent. The small raft gathered speed as the waves pushed and spun it around in a way that discomfited them at first and then scared them as it became more violent. The driving rain soaked them, but all they could do was hold on to the tossing raft as it hurtled along its new westerly path.
“Grab my pack!” yelled Alessa at Felanar. The pack had worked its way loose in the wind and was sliding off the raft until Felanar reached out and stopped it. The rain lashing at his face, he tied the pack down to one of the raft’s logs again.
“This is the worst storm I’ve seen,” yelled Kara over the wind.
“By far the worst,” yelled her brother in return, looking at Dolen who seemed thoroughly sickened by the tossing and was hanging his head with his eyes closed. Felanar felt queasy as well, and could only imagine how much worse it would be for the inexperienced dwarf. He hung on tightly and hoped things would soon improve.
The storm continued throughout the afternoon and into the night, easing at times only to quickly boil up again in full force. In the dark, they could perceive nothing of their location and knew only they were moving swiftly whatever their direction. They were speeding great distances in a short period of time. Soaked, their bodies no longer registered water. Wetness was their whole existence, all they knew, all they would ever know. The muscles in their arms and legs ached from hanging on to the raft against the howling wind. And when the storm finally subsided for good, deep into the night, it took several minutes for their muscles to register the change and gradually allow them to let go. Feeling an immense exhaustion, they slumped down and fell asleep under the clearing night sky.
When they woke up the next morning, the sun was high. It was a beautiful day. The air felt warmer too, which felt good to their sore muscles. There were many groans as they stretched their arms and legs. Even Alessa complained about her tiredness, something the others had never heard before. They rested that day. The raft continued drifting westward, but that would take them toward Elaria and they were content to let the raft do the work. When Alessa pointed out to Dolen that the raft had held through the worst of storms, the dwarf acknowledged it stiffly but noted the lack of comfort he had experienced.
They slept well that night, and on the morning of their third day Alessa began worrying about their location. She scanned the horizon to their south, hoping to see Elaria.
“Are you sure we have traveled far enough?” asked Kara as she stood beside the elf.
“No,” Alessa said, “I cannot be certain for I lost track of distance and bearing during the storm. But it seemed to me that we were moving in a western direction, and since then the sun has confirmed that it is the way we are traveling now. The current flows this way once you get west of the straits.”
“Has it been long enough?” asked Kara.
“Again, it is hard to estimate our speed during the storm, but it was certainly swift. After two days of travel, some of it done quickly, I do think I should see Elaria by now. Yet I cannot make out land of any kind.”
“We may be too far north,” said Kara.
“Yes, I think that is the case,” said Alessa, “for I’ve been blowing my horn this morning and yet have seen no sign of response.”
“How close must an elf be to hear the horn?”
“Within a day’s journey, it is said,” answered Alessa. “If we get no response soon, then we really are too far north to be heard.”
“Keep trying,” encouraged Kara.
That day passed and no response came and no elven ships sailed toward them. That evening they finished the last of their food, an inadequate meal for them all but especially Dolen. They had been unsuccessful in catching fish that day, and when they went to sleep that night it was on stomachs that wanted more.
There were more clouds on the fourth day but they were not storm clouds. The wind picked up again and, aided by the current, so did their speed. There was still no response to Alessa’s horn, nor was there any sign of land. Convinced that they should have seen Elaria by now, she concluded they must be too far north.
“Perhaps we should steer south,” suggested Felanar.
Their earlier attempts to form a rudder of wood from chunks from the top of a log never had much effect on their direction. They were afraid that if they carved out a big enough rudder it could cripple the raft. So they decided to take turns jumping into the water and pushing the raft to steer it. Felanar went first and lowered himself into the water. It felt cold. He held on to one end and began kicking strongly. The raft jerked in the other direction, but the current pushed it back again. Felanar kicked some more and the struggle continued. Dolen jumped in and joined Felanar, and soon the two of them were kicking in unison. But it was not enough. The strong current fought their efforts. They were moving southwesterly, but it was far more westerly than south. At their present rate, it would take far more time to make land than they had the energy for. Finally they decided to wait for the current to let up a bit before they tried again.
Kara suggested making a sail of sorts, but they could not think of anything to make it with. Their clothing, even if they could put all of it together, would not capture enough wind to move the large, heavy raft nor could they think of something to use as a mast.
“We can wait,” said Alessa. “Eventually we will reach land, for the currents will move southerly sooner or later. At the worst, we will reach the Shakaart Peninsula, though I think we will reach land much sooner than that.”
“What about Dragon Island,” asked Kara, “isn’t that along the way? I remember seeing it on the maps. It’s further north than Elaria, is it not?”
“That’s right,” said Felanar, “I remember that too. We might land there if the currents allow, although I don’t know if the prospect appeals all that much after my previous experiences.”
“You have survived twice,” said Alessa with a smile, “so I think you of all people should not worry.”
“It seems the elf has forgotten how disastrous was the appearance of the dragons in the battle,” complained Dolen. “Making light of our troubles again. I see how the elves view matters that do not affect them.”
“Enough!” commanded Felanar. “We shall not start another argument. Let us see what will come, and deal with each new trouble as we can.”
That fourth day they drifted along the swift current, moving always westward. They were able to catch fish that day and so ate, though Alessa went without food and drank only a little water. She made no complaints.
The morning of the fifth day brought the excited cry of “Land!” from Alessa. The elf had taken the late watch in the night and when dawn arrived so did the sight of an island. She stood on the edge of the raft and pointed south-west. The others, waking, strained to see what she had seen.
“It is just there,” Alessa said, pointing again. “With the current, we might reach land.”
“Is it Dragon Island?” asked Felanar
“It must be,” said Alessa. “It is an island, not the mainland. We are probably too far from Elaria. For that matter I see brown more than green, and that is not the way of Elaria. Dragon Island is the only possibility.”
With the current moving them swiftly, soon all but Dolen could see the outline of the island as well. It was a thin sliver of brown against the blue water, but soon they could see the mountains on the island further in the distance. They were now parallel to the island, and moving gradually nearer. But it was clearly too gradually, and Alessa soon announced they would pass by the island before they had gone far enough south. They discussed the possibility of swimmers pushing the raft, but the current was still swift, and Felanar and Kara both hesitated at the thought of exerting themselves in order to reach an island full of dragons. Dolen took Felanar’s side and Alessa could not convince them otherwise. It then became really impossible to convince them otherwise once they got a glimpse of dragons an hour later. They could make out movement in the air in the distance and Alessa confirmed that what they were seeing were indeed dragons.
“Three of them circling over the beach,” she announced.
“Whatever for?” said Kara, shuddering at the memory of the sight of a dragon circling the fisherman’s boat over Lake Brindle, and what had happened next.
“Perhaps looking for fish to eat, perhaps just enjoying flight,” said the elf.
“See us, do you think?” asked Dolen warily, but respectfully toward Alessa for her superior eyesight.
“No, Dolen,” answered Alessa, “I think not. The sight of a dragon is good indeed, but we are far enough away, and small enough, that unless they were looking for us I do not think they see us. Certainly they are making no change in their flying, so even if they see us they show no interest.”
“But you see them,” objected Felanar.
“Yes,” agreed Alessa, “but I was looking for them, and they are flying in the sky. Were they to lie on the beach, and I was not expecting to see them, I would not be able to make them out at this distance. Since they are not looking for us, and probably do not expect rafts to drift by, and we are on the water, low and obscure, it appears we pass without notice.”
“Yet here is a platter full of food for them if they but knew it,” said Kara.
“I have heard your and Felanar’s stories,” said Alessa, turning to face Kara. “I realize to you these are awful creatures who bring death and terror. But their primary source of food is from the water. They eat fish, not man. At least not as a normal course of action. Despite your experiences, there should be no reason to fear a dragon. I do not, and would gladly talk with one again.”
“Again?” asked Felanar. “When did you speak with a dragon?”
“I never personally did, but my people of old were accustomed to dealing with dragons on many occasions, and much has been said and written about the conversations you can have with a dragon. They are the most intelligent of all creatures. Much poetry and songs among the Llaráin tell of these encounters. I would so enjoy meeting one and continuing this experience.”
“So it has stopped?” asked Felanar.
“Yes, it has been many seasons since elf last spoke with a dragon, and this is a mystery to me and my people.”
“Well, since it appears they will not bother us this time,” said Felanar, “I will not worry about them now. But if we do meet one again, I hope you are with me, Alessa.”
“I hope so too,” said the elf.
By the afternoon they had passed the island and were again alone on the water. There was no fish that day, and they all went to sleep hungry.
The morning of the sixth day brought hope of land, just as Alessa had predicted. The current was slowly moving them in a westerly direction, but the land was beginning to curve up from the south. Alessa said she could perceive land far in the distance, and suspected they were now west of Birkish and the inflow to the Marske river.
“If so,” she said, “we should reach the peninsula some time this day. In fact, I should soon see the land curve up into the long peninsula and we should prepare for travel deep in the western lands.”
“I know little of these lands other than the Tri-cities,” said Felanar, “but that is much further south. What will we find as we land?”
“I do not know,” said Alessa in a quiet voice.
“Do the elves not know much of this land?” asked Kara.
“We as a people know all there is to know,” said Alessa in a firmer voice, “but all is truly known by the knights and scouts of my people. And my father, of course. For me, I know much about the land, but like Felanar know more of the autarch’s land than these northern regions.”
“In short,” said Dolen gruffly, “you know not what we face.”
“I know that High Point, should we land that far north, which I doubt, is a land of fishermen and fighting ships. The autarch has his ship-building operations at High Point, far from the reach of any enemies, and in a position to launch fleets of ships at his whim. But below High Point, as far as I know, you will not find much other than saarks and wilderness.”
Mention of saarks unsettled Felanar.
“This is their home territory, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yes,” said Alessa, “this is where they live when they are not on their ships making the seas filthy with their stench.”
“Out of one crisis and into another,” sighed Kara. “I would very much enjoy a sea voyage that did not eventually lead to dragons or saarks.”
“It is mostly wilderness,” said Alessa. “We may yet travel through it unscathed.”
“The words of an elf are not to be trusted,” said Dolen with a frown.
Alessa stared at him silently.
The morning moved into afternoon, and by mid-afternoon they could all see the land that was looming ahead. Beyond it lay nothing but trees and small hills. No sign of habitation or ships could be seen. After nearly a week on the open water, with no means of steering and no ability to control their speed, the current finally returned them to land.
With a thud and a scrape the raft hit the beach of this western land, and the four hungry passengers climbed off the raft onto the beach, luxuriating in the feel of sand under their feet.
They saw no sign of spy or foe, or any other person. So they sat on the beach and talked about their next course of action. Taking to the raft again seemed out of the question. Even if they now built a rudder, the current was westerly, and only a strong sail could allow them to tack back in the direction from which they came. No material was at hand for making such a sail, and so the raft was abandoned, perhaps a little too gratefully for those who were now tired of its sight, considering how safely it had kept them through perilous waters. Dolen in particular was sure he never wanted to sit on a raft again.
It was to be a land journey from here, and that required some thought. But as evening drew close, the weary travelers decided to make camp not far from the beach, make a meal of gathered food, and get a good night’s sleep before they began the long walk to Elaria. A week after they fled the northern wastes and spent day and night on rough logs in the water, they slept on the ground and it felt wonderful.