“Be ready.”
My-re moved through the rowers in the lower deck of the Nightie. With half of the ships oars damaged or destroyed, the remaining thirty had two Lord Protectors on each.
The lead rower, Rao of the Skull Squadron stable, nodded to her and said, “Say the word.”
My-re looked at the hull patches where the Lake of Mist monster had attempted to break through. The leaks had ceased.
“They’ll hold,” Rao said following her gaze.
My-re then looked to the ankle deep water she was slushing through. Debris floated on the surface and underneath. Efforts to bail the remaining water had ceased.
“We won’t break. We’ll row to our last ounce of strength.”
A corked bottle was caught under the water and lodged against a bench. My-re picked it up, removed the cork and drank. The wine was strong and had a fruity flavor. It tasted good. She breathed out heavily in delight and trepidation. She corked it and proceed to drop—
“I’ll take that,” Rao said and took it from My-re’s hands. “A little liquid courage can’t hurt.”
My-re nodded and as she proceeded up the creaking stairs, Rao said quietly, “Get us home.” She paused for a moment and then continued. Emerging from the lower deck, she saw the contingent of Primus’ elite tower guards gathering at the bow of the ship preparing to light the remaining torches and lanterns. The 7 foot tall captain of the Nightie, Phetmolge, had taken position in the crow’s next, while Ssskah the tuxedo colored were-cat of the Castaways stable manned the massive wheel at the aft section. Standing next to her was Lady Sheila Greywand and Tim the Enchanter of the Knights of Ni stable. The Nightie drifted, surrounded by the lake’s mist. Stars, like pin-pricks on black cloth, watched as spectators from the heavens. Turning east, dawn had not broken. There was still time before they’d be fully exposed in the morning’s light.
“Speed and care are needed,” Ssskah said wring her hands around the wooden spokes of the navigation wheel.
“Proceed,” Sheila Greywand said.
The elite tower guard began lighting the lanterns and torches at the bow of the ship. The entire area around the front of the ship and surrounding waters lit up and extended some distance out to sea. The crow’s nest lit up as Captain Phetmolge ignited a lantern, who held two navigational flags. Ssskah seemed to understand the flag motions and began to turn the wheel.
“Now My-re,” Shelia said.
My-re went to the top of the stairs and said to the crew below, “Row.”
The Nightie lurched forward. The oars were in time with each other. The remaining thirty oars, fifteen on each side, moved in rhythm. Water splashed, the wind blew, and the ship was underway.
Looking behind her, the lake was quiet. Turning to Ssskah, she watched Captain Phetmolge’s motions with the flags. The Primus warriors were steadfast at the bow of the ship.
“I see the edge of the barriers,” Phetmolgue called down and conveyed a set of navigational instructions with the flags.
The Nightie moved diagonally to the western shore of the Isle of the Eye towards the forgotten port, called the Suicide Gate.
After an hour, Phetmolgue called out, “There’s the trench!” The ship leveled off and headed eastwards towards the western shore.
“Hold steady! More than five degrees to either side will cause us to beach on the shallows!” Phetmolgue called out. “This is going to be tight!”
My-re sat on a miniature hogshead barrel. She noticed her legs bouncing in uncontrolled nervousness. Stopping them, she rose from her make-shift stool and watched the sea behind them from the aft section of the ship. While limping, the Nightie made good progress through the water. The lake’s mist was thinning, a hopeful sign they were getting closer to the Isle of the Eye. A moment later, the eastern sky changed to a light blue and an orange glow hit the horizon. Rays of yellow streaked the heavens. Dawn broke.
“By the nine hells,” My-re cursed to herself out loud. While the sunrise was beautiful, the first rays of light also exposed a bleak picture of the damage the Nightie sustained during the night. The railing was broken in three places, large chunks of splintered wood sat like jagged daggers on the deck, shattered oars looked like broken teeth on the side of the ship, as various objects on deck were rolling freely with the waves, and the ship listed slightly. The Nightie looked like the loser from a drunken brawl. Even the crew had a disheveled appearance from being wet, tired, and on edge from the constant attacks from the Lake of Mist monster.
Approaching the navigation wheel, My-re joined Lady Shelia Greywand and Ssskah.
Shelia seemed to read her face of concern as she said, “Steady.” However, My-re wasn’t sure if she meant the comment to Ssskah, or to herself, or both.
Looking out to the lake, it was quite as the mist was still around, but more and more of the water could be seen poking through. The scent of seaweed rode on the breeze, an almost constant smell on the beaches. They were getting closer. The familiar shadow of the Isle to the Eye formed in the distance. Home was near.
“In the water!” Phetmolgue called out from the crow’s nest. “Off the starboard quarter!”
The crew drew weapons and rushed to the starboard railing.
Eyes focused onto the lake. There was nothing for a moment, then the mist parted and something bulged the water from underneath.
My-re cursed again in Rathiri, the Rirorni native language, which roughly translated to ‘procreate with oneself’.
Phetmolgue yelled, “It’s coming!”