Sons of the Oak

When the storm finally cleared, Captain Stalker found that he’d lost seven members of the crew, including Endo.

The last that he had seen of the man, Endo was treading water in incredibly rough seas, trying to keep his head above the whitecaps. His faithful sea ape, Unkannunk, howled in dismay and leapt into the wash to save him, but a huge breaker crashed over the two, and by the time the water cleared, both of them were lost to view.

The only thing that saved Stalker himself was dumb luck.

The ship was a wreck. The mainmast and mizzenmast were gone completely, and much of the upper deck was broken and in a shambles.

The storm had blown them far off course to the east and north-that much Stalker could tell just by the water: it was deeper green than it should have been, from too much algae, and its surfaces were all hard angles. That only came from cold water funneling down from the arctic currents.

In their current condition, it would take a couple of weeks just to limp to some island among the Mariners. And they wouldn’t be able to just dodge onto some uninhabited island. They’d need a proper port, one where they could get the masts replaced, buy enough tarp for some new sails.

Sailing on to Byteen was out of the question. There was only one place to go: Syndyllian.

“We’re goin’ to get boarded,” Stalker told Borenson and Myrrima that night. “There’s rumors that Shadoath is searchin’ for your boys. I mean to see that she doesn’t find ’em.”

“Are you sure that we have to go to Syndyllian?” Myrrima asked.

“It’s the only island in the chain that’s got proper trees on it,” Stalker argued. “We might take on food and water elsewhere, even buy some new sails, but we can’t repair the masts… and without them, we’re almost dead in the water. We outran that little black schooner twice, but we won’t do it again.”

“So what do you propose?” Borenson asked.

Stalker had it all figured. But he needed Borenson and Myrrima to agree to his plan.

“I figure it will take a few days to get the masts fitted,” Stalker said. “I’ve ’ad business dealin’s with Shadoath in the past. I pay for free passage through the Mariners. So me and the ship shouldn’t be in any trouble. I’m thinkin’ we can sail into port at night, under cover of darkness. But before we make port, we’ll lower a boat, and you, Mr. Borenson, can row the boys ashore. You’ll need to stay ’id. You should be fine for a week. Then just keep watch for the ship at night. When we sail out to sea, we’ll drop anchor near the beach, and you can row out to meet us.”

Borenson considered the plan. It sounded simple enough. Syndyllian was a big island, from all that Borenson had heard, and had been well settled for hundreds of years. There was plenty of fresh water, plenty of farms and peasant huts.

He looked to Myrrima for approval. She was the wizardess, after all. And she was the one who would have to stay with their children, perhaps even endure the scrutiny of Shadoath. “I can take the boys,” he said. “But I’m not sure that I want to leave you and the children. We could all go. We could all hide out together.”

Myrrima bent her head, deep in thought. Her heart was full of misgivings. She didn’t know what kind of shelter they might find in the wild, what foods they would be forced to eat. Myrrima could handle it, but it would be harder on the little ones. Worse, Myrrima was still nursing Erin, and at three, Sage would never be able to remember that they were in hiding.

“I’ll stay with the children, and keep Rhianna,” Myrrima finally decided. “You take the boys into hiding.”

Her misgivings were fierce, though, and she rocked back and forth on her stool, wondering.

In her fortress on Syndyllian that night, Shadoath walked upon the veranda of her palace, under the stars.

Outside in the valley below, the barracks of her armies stretched for miles, dark tents covering the land. And as the stars twinkled in the heavens above, the campfires and forge fires glittered below her.

Shadoath had taken hundreds of endowments of stamina, brawn, grace, and will. She no longer needed to sleep.

But she rested, walking alone under the starlight, her eyes unfocused, in a waking dream.

That’s when the Sending came.

Asgaroth appeared to her not in any human form, but with a hideous face, as if to reveal the monster that he was. He spoke only two words: “We come.”

The vision faded, and Shadoath smiled. For nine years she had been on this miserable little world, preparing.

Now, the torch-bearer was on his way.

Nine days later, the Leviathan reached Syndyllian. Captain Stalker had apprised the crew of his plan and sworn the men to secrecy.

It was only at the last instant, as the boat lay under the stars on the north shore of the island, that Rhianna informed them all that she would be going with the boys.

Myrrima was prepared for it. The girl was growing more and more dependent upon Fallion. At night, evil dreams kept her awake, and it wasn’t until she was lying by Fallion’s side that she could sleep.

Reluctantly, Myrrima gave her consent. Borenson and the children climbed down the ladder to the ship’s boat. Borenson rowed away, the big boat riding lightly on the sea as it made for the gentle white sands of Syndyllian.

The captain marked the spot with the navigator, choosing a pair of mountains in the distance as a point of reference for their return.

An hour later, the Leviathan sailed into the port city of Mannesfree under a gentle breeze as the moon rose so huge out above the sea that the last of the roosters down in the hold thought the sun was rising and began to crow.

They eased into port and found the waters still and glassy, with four other ships already lying in harbor. It was not a huge port. A steep hill rose to the south, and they were at the mouth of a deep river. A few inns and shacks crouched along the pier. Myrrima could see the fishermen’s nets hanging by the docks, where they were dried and mended.

To the north, a small city sprawled across a fertile plain.

It felt cozy and idyllic.

There was singing coming from a little shanty by the waterside, and the sounds of woodwinds and drums. So late in the night, few other folks in the city seemed to be awake. A single lantern gleamed over the water.

The city seemed almost abandoned.

No smoke rose from the chimneys. No lights shined from the windows.

Stalker studied the scene with evident concern. “ ’Aven’t been in port ’ere for five years. Used to be a jumpin’ place. Busier than this.”

Myrrima stood on deck, peering anxiously. One of the ships lying in port had black masts.

Sitting upon a barrel behind her, Smoker inhaled deeply on his pipe, a red glow forming in his hands around the bowl, and peered out over the water, his face wrinkling in concern. He said to Myrrima, “Something wrong.”

Myrrima could not fathom why everything was so dead.