“For such an ominous name as the Storm Crags, it’s not too bad sailing over them,” My‑re said to Vomarian. She looked out from the bow’s railing of the Unsinkable III flying ship. They put distance between them and the Rirorni encampment they unceremoniously visited. There were no signs of pursuit. The rugged bluffs had no visible paths and were made mainly of rocks, dirt, and tired-looking grass. She saw the occasional groupings of goats, the only life present, maneuvering the mountainous terrain.
“Any signs of storms?” Vomarian shouted to the crow’s nest.
“All clear, sir!” came the callback, which echoed throughout the crags.
My‑re looked to the sky and the grey whips of clouds muting the weak sun above. She observed the Shagornan Elf crew. Throughout the ship, the crew bustled to protect the three main mast lines, adjust the rigging, and tie down any flapping sails. She then heard a melody being sung by two of the elves. A few others nearby picked it up, and the rest of the ship knew the song. It had a nice rhythm and thumping beat. While she didn’t understand the Shagornan language, it seemed like a shared work song. The tempo and quickness of the words intensified as they sang, which echoed back in harmony through the chasm like the Storm Crags itself enjoyed their company as they sailed through. Her foot even began to tap to the beat. She then spotted the archmage Havelock bouncing his head back and forth in tune with the song. He carved a miniature, wooden version of a mere dragon. His knife strokes were also in time with the singing. As the fourth verse started, My‑re caught on to the rhythm and whistled to the tune. Her whistling blew into the comforting wind, so unfortunately, it didn’t echo in the chasm. The elves nearest her stopped their singing immediately. Others also ceased, like a domino effect across the ship.
“What in the nine hells are you doing?” Vomarian whispered harshly to her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know only elves could participate in the sing-song,” My‑re scoffed, offended.
“No, the whistling.”
“What about it? I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“No, you don’t understand. Whistling into the wind is a bad omen on a ship. It could call up a storm,” Vomarian explained.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” My‑re retorted, noticing the eyes of the crew glaring at her.
As the last echoes of the Shagornan Elves’ song abruptly ended through the chasm, several heartbeats of silence followed across the ship. Eyes looked to the sky in every direction.
A collective “whew” was felt across the vessel.
“Anything else I should know about?” My‑re asked, turning her gaze to Vomarian.
“Yes, don’t cut your hair or trim your nails. In fact, no grooming whatsoever,” Vomarian said.
“Must remain haggard looking. Got it,” My‑re scoffed. “Can I change clothes, or do I need to stay in what I wear the entire trip?”
“That’s fine. Actually, nude women on a ship are completely welcome.”
“Of course they are. The reason why?”
“They can calm a storm.”
“And there it is. Makes complete sense too,” My‑re mocked.
“No more whistling,” Vomarian scolded, leaving her at the ship’s bow.
An hour passed. An uncomfortable silence traveled across the ship. My‑re avoided the crew members who ignored her at best or shot angry glances at worst. The only one who didn’t seem cross at her was the mere dragon Koma who lay near the forward mast. She stewed at the ship's bow, looking out to the Storm Crag’s barren terrain. “Stupid, superstitious crew. Whistling into the wind is a bad omen on a ship,” she mumbled, mocking Vomarian’s voice to herself. “What if I whistled with the wind? Is that fine?”
The breeze blew into My‑re’s face. She glanced around. No Shagornan Elves were nearby. She quietly whistled a note and waited. Nothing. She continued with a few more notes quietly to herself.
A lightning strike and thunderclap reverberated in the distance.
“Secure the ship!” Vomarian ordered. A moment later, he asked My‑re, “Were you doing any more whistling?”
“Nope.”
“Where are the two large dragon shields Kildo Hammerhand crafted?” Vomarian asked.
“Below deck,” My‑re answered.
“Get them and come to the navigation wheel.”
Retrieving the modified gladiator large shields, My‑re had to make way as the mere dragon Koma scampered down the ramp to the ship's hull and disappeared into the darkness. Back on deck, she understood why. Rolling black clouds streaked with a sickly green tinge reached to the heavens, heading their way.
As My‑re stared at the tempest before her, Vomarian took the shields and said, “Stay below with Havelock and the crew. Things are going to get real ugly, real fast.”
“You’re going through that?” My‑re said, pointing to the wall of storm clouds before them.
“The Rirorni are behind us, and we aren’t going to outrun that storm. We’re pushing through,” Vomarian explained. “And no matter what, stay below.” He then hurried her down the ramp and closed the double hull doors to the deck above behind her. Below, the majority of the Shagornan Elf crew began lighting lamps to push back the darkness. She spotted the three mere dragons, Koma, Kata, and Kuki, not to be confused with a cookie, as Havelock would put it, at the aft section of the hull. The lizards huddled together.
My‑re heard the howling wind outside. It slammed into the ship, and everyone had to catch their balance. She could feel the craft then surge forward.
Passing her, Havelock said, “You’ll need to get into your hammock.”
Throughout the hull, My‑re saw the Shagornan Elves climbing into their hammocks and pulling the netting tight around them. They immediately began to sway back and forth with the ship's movement. The hard thumping of rain hit the ceiling. After a few minutes, water dripped from a few cracks. She heard shouting above, but the sounds of the storm muffled it.
The skeletal crew above battled the ship through the storm for the next few hours while the rest remained secured in the hammocks below. She snickered at the comical way they all swayed in tune and in unison. At first, My‑re enjoyed the movement, like swinging as a child. However, her stomach wasn’t thanking her for the constant back-and-forth as the hours stretched.
By the motion of their hammocks, the ship started to list to the right as if turning. The muted shouting above increased. This rotating continued, and after a few minutes, it seemed odd. My‑re noted a few puzzled looks on some of the other Shagornan Elves’ brows. The hull’s wood scraping against rock echoed throughout the hull. It dissipated.
Sixty seconds. The scraping returned. Stopped.
Thirty seconds. The sound resumed. Ceased.
Fifteen seconds. The frequency accelerated.
“I wonder if we are caught in a vortex,” Havelock commented.
“That doesn’t sound good,” My‑re said to herself.
The air wailed, wood squealed, splintering and snapping followed—the lamentation of a ship’s death. The port side hull of the vessel peeled away like a banana. The boat hit the ground. Mud, rocks, and debris poured into the ship like water.
The doors to the deck above flew open. A deluge of rain emptied from a black sky.
Vomarian shouted, “We’re going down!”