[Book] An Account of the Circumnavigation of Mizahar

[Liminal]

Chapter Nine

The next stretch of days was calm and uneventful. We sailed the full circuit of Storm Bay, and Mr. Plankman and I spent long hours making and correcting our charts.

At the bay's western edge, we saw a volcano inland, one that appeared to be thousands upon thousands of feet high. It dominated the headland; there is nothing in the eastern realms to which to compare it. It would have been an interesting place to explore, but we could not spare the time or energy to mount an expedition away from the shore.

Perhaps, after all, it was for the best. Several times as we passed the vicinity of the volcano, we saw eagles overhead -- eagles with wingspans the length of two horses and beaks as long as a man's arm. Bethany and I stood at the stern of the ship and watched them nervously, but they appeared to take no interest in our vessel, and never approached closely. Even when we stopped to take on water at the stream that Queen Morwen had mentioned, the eagles remained carefully aloof.

We rounded the edge of Storm Bay and proceeded back into the unprotected ocean on the seventy-fifth day of Spring. I was concerned for the weather, but we were blessed with clear skies and gentle waves. We began making our way south, but, as we would come to know intimately over the course of the ensuing days, the winds on the western side of the continent are not helpful to a vessel traveling in that direction.

Late one night, Bethany and I sat in the stern of the ship, looking down at the wake. The water was full of luminescent creatures that glowed as we passed, leaving a long trail of light to show from whence we had come. I had seen this phenomenon many times before on my trips to Abura, but it never lost its magical appeal to me.

"What will you do when we get back?" she asked, her chin resting on the ship's railing.

"I don't know," I said. "A lot of it isn't up to me. I don't know if the Sailors' Guild will reassign me to the Abura route, or give me something else to do. Actually, I don't really know what I'll be expected to do once I finish the voyage. They'll want reports, of course, but I don't know what else. There's nothing really to compare it to."

Bethany tilted her head and nodded, brown hair falling onto her shoulders.

"What about you?" I asked.

"The University will want a full report too, and they'll expect me to write up my research on Denvali and Vani. Probably, I won't have to teach for a while as I do that. Then? Maybe the University will let me travel. As a linguistics scholar, what I really want to do is look around, see what's out there. We've already found two new languages on this trip, and we've been on the ocean for most of it. There have to be others."

She sighed, and I could tell that she was trying to decide how to phrase the rest of what she had to say, and so I kept quiet.

"There are stories that need to be heard, voices to be preserved and records to be kept," she said at length. "I could have stayed in Avanthal or Denval for months, listening to stories and writing them down. The present is just the past's logical conclusion; we are what we remember. That's why it's so important, Kena. We have to hold our memories close, and write them down. Through the gifts of Qalaya, we can step outside ourselves for a moment and see ourselves for what we really are."

"What are we?" I hadn't meant to ask the question, but it came out anyway.

Bethany's smile was a sad one. "We're a long way from home, Kena, both of us, busy trying to do something that's impossible. Whether we'll succeed or not, I don't know, but in a way, that's not even the important thing. The important thing is to remember."

We sat there for a long time, neither of us saying anything more. A trail of light connected us to the horizon. I put my head on Bethany's shoulder and watched the glow play on the waves, which proceeded in an inexorable sequence as long as we remained there to see it.

On a long voyage, one of the challenges any crew must overcome is boredom. It might sound strange, the idea of being bored on a voyage of exploration, but it's very real nonetheless. It began to set in for us after leaving Storm Bay. The western coast of Kalea is monotonously similar -- mile after mile of rocky beaches and forest. Even the process of charting the coastline became monotonous, as the variations were so slight that it was all I could do as I drew the maps to keep from losing my place or repeating the same feature twice. The poor winds also meant that we were now not making good time, and this was frustrating, not only to myself, but to the crew as well. They knew that this was part of what they had signed up for, and they did not complain to me. They were an excellent crew, and would not do such things. But the mood on the ship began to be noticeably depressed.

One interesting thing did happen the evening of the eighty-ninth. It was nearly sunset, and I was preparing to leave my shift at the helm and work more on our maps. All at once, something broke the surface of the water some three hundred feet off the port bow. It had the appearance of an eel or snake, save that it was much larger. Estimating sizes at sea is problematic, but I would hazard a guess that it was eighty or ninety feet in length. Its legs, if it had any, were not visible, but three loops or humps could be seen at regular intervals. Its head resembled a boar's, but without any hair. It had cold, reddish eyes, and when it turned its head in our direction, I could not help but feel a chill. However, it turned away from us again, and quickly disappeared beneath the surface.

I looked around to see if anyone else had spotted the creature. Ms. Helm was on her way to relieve me, and I quickly inquired whether she had seen it. In a shaky voice, she responded that she had, and that she was glad that it had seen fit to return to the depths and not trouble our vessel.

Spring passed into summer, a full year had passed since we had left Zeltiva, and we were still wending our way down Kalea's coast. Judging these things is hard to do from offshore, but it appears that Mizahar's western shores are even less populated than its eastern. After leaving Denval, we did not pass a single settlement, and there was scarcely any sign that these forests had been traversed since the Valterrian. About halfway down the Kalean coast, we did sail by what appeared to be a large fire pit that seemed to have been used recently, but there was no sign of any people. Instead, the whole area was overrun with what looked like brown lizards, but at least four feet long from nose to tail. Or rather from nose to tails -- each creature had two tails, which swished back and forth in constant motion, but somehow never hit each other. There must have been two dozen of them, crawling around the edges of the fire pit and poking their claws into the dirt. The university contingent would like to have captured one, I think, but they looked formidable, and at any rate, we had no place on a ship to store a giant reptile.

On the thirteenth day of summer, we came upon another large inlet. Now, we were far enough south that there was a good chance that this might open directly into the Suvan. Indeed, the foliage was changing from broadleaf forest to more tropical vegetation, and it was clear that before long we would be offshore from the jungle itself. I made the choice to explore the inlet and see if there was any connection to the Suvan.

The bay curved northward, although at a gentle angle. We mapped it thoroughly, but we were once again defeated in our attempt to find a passage to the Suvan. The largest stream of any kind was still far too small to sail on, and the head of the bay was a definite dead end, with no hidden pathways.

Our food supplies were still holding out well, but we were once again in need of fresh water. The large stream was near the mouth of the bay, on the southern side. The area appeared as desolate and uninhabited as almost anywhere else we had been in the past three seasons, but we were still wary. The south side of the bay was jungle, and we knew the Myrians were always a threat -- we assumed, correctly as it happened, that we were now on the edge of Falyndar. However, if we were where I thought we were, we would have to take on water in Falyndar, because once we were on the other side of the Faleyk Gulf, there was nowhere to water until Abura, and there was no way we would be able to make it that far.

We anchored the Seafarer, and we watched the shore for several hours, during which time we saw no movement or sign of any people. Next, we sent a group of five of our strongest sailors in one of our two rowboats to scout out the area. They scoured the area for half an hour, both from the boat and on the shore, but also saw nothing to alarm them. At this point, I assigned Ms. Helm to organize a party to go ashore. Twenty more of the crew, including Ms. Helm, Bethany, and Mr. Mizzen, climbed into our other rowboat and went to refill our water casks. The rest of us remained on the Seafarer and watched their progress nervously.

They managed to fill the casks and reload them onto one of the boats. That boat had just pushed off, and the other was preparing to do so, when my heart fell into my stomach. There had been no sign of anyone watching, no motion from the foliage, no sound or stir of any kind, but suddenly, the entire beach was filled with tawny-skinned warriors, armed with bows, arrows, and vicious knives, and they immediately set upon the shore party. Where they had secreted themselves was a mystery I never solved, but we never saw them until it was too late.

I have never felt so alone as I did at that moment. I could see everything unfolding before me, but I could do nothing to stop it. Our vessel had no military capabilities, and we had no wizards or marksmen who could have stopped or slowed the Myrians -- both our longbow experts had perished with the White Fever, and there was no one to replace them. If I live to be a thousand, I shall never forget that scene, and it burns itself onto my eyelids even when I sleep.

The boat still on the shore had no chance. Its crew of fifteen was dead, their throats slit and stomachs ripped almost before any of them could raise a cry. Ms. Helm was among them, and I watched her fall lifeless onto the ground. One of the Myrians reached into her body, pulled out a piece of flesh, and barbarically thrust it into her mouth, feasting on the flesh of my fallen comrade. I was dizzy, and I leaned over the railing, vomiting into the water.

The Myrian party had no boats, not so much as a canoe, and so they were unable to pursue our other rowboat. However, they did have excellent archers, and a hail of arrows enveloped the crew.

Some died instantly. However, those who still lived continued rowing, trying to get out of range of the Myrians' bows. By the time they were two-thirds of the way to the Seafarer, they were no longer in danger, but by then, the damage had already been done.

We brought the boat aboard as quickly as possible. Three of the crew were already dead; Mr. Mizzen was among them, an arrow through his neck. Two more were gravely wounded. As Mr. Plankman ordered bandages to be brought, I saw that one of the wounded was Bethany. An arrow protruded from her stomach, and she was bleeding severely.

I dropped to my knees and propped her head up with my arms. "Bethany?" I was sobbing now. "Bethany...are you going to be all right?"

Her face was pale and haggard, but she still managed a smile. "Kena...I think so...but not in the way you mean."

"Mr. Plankman's almost here...we'll get you bandaged up."

"It won't do any good." She grimaced. "But do whatever you need to."

The other woman, Jolinda Sparks, was wounded even more seriously, and was already pale from the loss of blood before she even got aboard. The sailors tried to patch her wounds, but it was only a minute or two before she gave one last rattling sigh and left this incarnation. A pair of sailors came to look after Bethany; they did not remove the arrow, in fear of causing more bleeding, but bandaged tightly around it and moved Bethany to her quarters. I followed, stopping only to take a cup of water to bring her.

She took the drink, but then closed her eyes. In a way, it was good -- we had nothing to alleviate her pain. For four hours she slept, and I sat keeping watch over her. I could feel that the ship was moving, taking us far away from the Myrians, but I couldn't leave my friend to die alone.

At length, Bethany coughed, and her eyes fluttered open. She caught sight of me, and smiled weakly. "I guess you're the undertaker too, eh Kena?"

I took her hand. "Bethany, Beth...don't say that please. I've seen people recover from worse wounds. Rest will do you good, and I'll see to it that you make it home with me. You have to. I have to."

She coughed again, and then her face grew more somber. "Kena, I'd like nothing more than that. But...it isn't going to happen." She grimaced in pain. "Rest will do me good, but not the kind of rest I'll get here."

"Bethany..."

"Kena...if Qalaya didn't have something else for me to do, I wouldn't be dying. I've...I've been there. And I'll be there. I'll be everywhere." She broke off, coughing once again, and this time, I saw blood on her lips.

"Everywhere?"

Any remaining color was draining from her face. "Kena...just remember. That's all it takes...remembering. Everything you see is just the manifestation of memory. And...write it down."

"I will, Bethany. I promise." I squeezed her hand more tightly.

"Then...good-bye for now, Kena."

We buried her at sea, as we pulled out of the bay. Or her body anyway. The rest of her can't be buried, or contained, or held in the present.

[Liminal]

Chapter Ten

There were now only twenty-three of us. It was a perilously small crew to handle a ship of the Seafarer's size, but we all knew that we would have to manage. With Ms. Helm and Mr. Mizzen gone, and Mr. Plankman still unable to take the helm, we had to press a second helmsperson into service. Ms. Stephanie Brooks volunteered. She had signed on as a deckhand, but she had some prior experience with fishing vessels in Mathews Bay. It was not much, as far as experience went, but she was willing, and that was more important than anything else at the moment. The crew, what was left of them, were quieter now, and they especially avoided talking to me. I overheard snatches of conversations about a "curse" and a "doomed voyage," though they always stopped immediately when I walked by.

Mr. Plankman continued making measurements and soundings for our charts. I worked on them during the day, as I was at the helm during the nights. They were long, empty nights, and I had plenty of time to myself to think.

I knew I couldn't have saved anyone from the Myrians. But I kept thinking it over. Was there somewhere earlier we could have stopped? Other precautions we could have taken? Those people were my responsibility, and their deaths rested upon me. I accepted, and do accept, full blame for what happened. I still don't know how I would have prevented it, but as Captain, it was my responsibility to find a way to keep my people safe. I had failed, and because of my failure, people died. It was a weight and a condemnation that seemed too broad and heavy for my tired back.

Maybe Bethany was right. Maybe none of the choices would have been the right ones.

The water casks had made it on board, and there were far fewer people now to use those rations. We were able to sail without stopping down the rest of the Falyndar coast. It is tangled and dangerous, a mass of snarled vegetation and impenetrable darkness. Wherever the Myrians' capital is, it isn't visible from the coast. The jungle lurked off to port like a monster, and I don't think any of us closed both eyes while sleeping until it was safely behind us. We are fortunate indeed that the Myrians have no shipbuilding skills, and that they are separated from us by the Suvan, the grasslands, and the Zatoskas. Even Zeltiva's finest warriors would be no match for the Myrian band. I am not even sure that the Syliran Knights in full force could withstand a concerted attack.

Summer was quickly drawing to a close. The winds fought us at every turn, and it was only with great difficulty that we could make any forward progress, especially as understaffed as we were. It was the eighty-fifth day of summer, far later than it should have been, by the time that we made it to the Faleyk Gulf.

The Gulf is remarkably wide, wide enough at its outermost point that the other shore is not visible. Like the rest of the Suvan Sea, it is a product of the Valterrian. Once we crossed it, we would be able to sight Yahebah, and ride the current up past Akvatar and on to Zeltiva. We were still hundreds of miles away, but in a sense, it felt as if we were almost home.

The winds in the Gulf are entirely unpredictable, and the whole area is prone to storms. Trading vessels making the Syliras run stay as close inshore as possible in order to minimize the chances for disaster. However, this once, fortune smiled on us. The winds remained favorable for the entire duration of the transit, and when we sighted Eyktol, those of us still left let out a cheer.

We were now back into the part of the world for which we had pre-existing maps. As such, Mr. Plankman and I only had to check our previous charts for accuracy, which was much less time-consuming than creating new ones. This was good, as everyone on the ship was weary to the bone, and we had little excess energy to spare.

There was one remaining navigational hazard in our path. We would have to pass by Rockward Island, a difficult passage in the best of times. It is largely barren rocks and sand, like most of the islands in the south, and is poorly vegetated, with no springs or other natural resources of note. No one, as far as I am aware, has ever lived there.

The island did not exist prior to the Valterrian. It was discovered and named by the great Timothy de Octans, who drew the first maps of its coast. The trade route, which de Octans pioneered, goes through the strait between the island and the mainland. It is shorter than trying to go around the south side, but it is prone to violent winds that, during a storm, are enough to destroy even the strongest vessel.

As we approached the island on the second day of autumn, it was clear that one such episode was occurring. The winds through the passage were from the east and extremely strong, and I did not dare attempt to fight them. Instead, I elected to bring us around the south side of the island. Which might have been a good decision, except that the storm caught up with us there.

I had not thought, given what I had read about the weather patterns around Rockward, that the winds would meet us on the south side. However, to my dismay, I was proved very wrong indeed.

The waves rose almost instantly, and before we knew it, the ship was pitching violently. I took the helm and attempted to steer the ship through the storm. We made some progress forward, but it continued to be a struggle. The waves seemed to be as high as mountains, and navigating through them was extraordinarily difficult. The storm seemed to be intensifying. Then, with almost no warning, one of the waves crashed entirely over the ship, washing over the deck with heavy force. Most of the crew were working the rigging and so had something to hold on to that would protect them from being swept away. However, four of the crew were not, and the wave swept them overboard before anything could be done. One of them was Mr. Plankman, who, due to his injury, was unable to help with the rigging and was directing the crew's work from the deck. He had been by my side through the worst of the voyage, through trials and difficulties, and now that we were almost home, he was gone.

The rest of us made it through to the other side of Rockward. There were now only nineteen of us, and it was a serious effort to keep control of the ship with that few people. I appointed Ms. Brooks, one of the few people who was still communicative with me, as my new second-in-command; it grieved me to have to make that decision, but my grief wouldn't sail the ship.

We did indeed pick up the current, which made matters easier. The trip up the southeastern coast of Eyktol was an easy one, all things considered, and on the seventeenth of autumn, 451, we sighted Akvatar.

Akvatar is largely sand dunes and barren rock. Few plants can grow on it, and there is no native fauna larger than a lizard. However, it contains one oasis; the city of Abura on its eastern shore, built around the island's only spring.

Abura is a town of perhaps 6,000 inhabitants, almost all of them Akvatari. It looks like something designed in a dream, Massive spires, arches, and towers, in a bewildering variety of colors, dominate the skyline, structures far larger than the population would dictate. Many of them are laced with openings, some covered and some not. There are isolated platforms dozens of feet in the air, single rooms carved into the structural supports, and arches with corridors wound like rope around the outside. Stairs and ladders are almost nonexistent; visitors who cannot fly are largely restricted to the area surrounding the docks unless they choose to hire an Akvatari chair-flight. I had never been outside the dock area, though I had been there many times and knew many of the people.

Our stores were nearly exhausted, and we put into the harbor there in Abura. I had not set foot on land since Denval, and the boards of the docks felt strange beneath my feet. Ms. Brooks and I were the first ones down, and we were met by an Akvatari man that I had met several times before, Imtapptendosin. At first, he seemed not to recognize me, but when I managed a word of greeting, a look of surprise came into his eyes.

"Captain Wright? But...aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Probably, yes," I answered. "But I'm not, all the same."

Apparently, we had been given up for lost in Zeltiva, and the word had reached Abura from the trade ship. The Akvatari seemed happy that this was not the case, and put us up in the Guest House, a building at the docks that served as a sort of hotel for visitors who could not fly. The beds were soft and clean, the food warm and delicious, and when I finally slept, it was nearly a full day later before I awoke.

I got dressed and left my room, but was immediately met by the rest of my crew. They looked nervous, and I could tell immediately that something was wrong.

"Yes?"

One of them, a deckhand named Johnathan Watertide, looked me in the eye. "Captain, we've followed you around the world and most of the way back. But we've lost most of our crew, the ship's undermanned, and I'm afraid that we don't have confidence in our ability to make it the rest of the way home on the Seafarer."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, Captain, that with all due respect, I don't believe that we'll be rejoining you." He waited, almost like a child waiting to be scolded after breaking a dish.

I shrugged. "The first thing any captain learns is that leading by coercion is impossible. I'm one woman -- if you're dead set on staying here, what am I supposed to do to stop you?" I narrowed my eyes. "Unless you're intending to do me personal harm?"

"No, no, nothing of the kind," Mr. Watertide said, his face flushing. "We like you, Captain, on a personal level. It's just that this expedition seems...cursed, or doomed, or something of the kind, and we would just as soon not die like the others did. We could just ask you to take on some more sailors, or switch vessels, but to be blunt, we think the curse extends beyond the timber of the ship or the number of hands on the rigging. How are you going to stop it, Captain? And if you could stop the accidents, the diseases, the deaths, wouldn't you have done it earlier?"

I winced, even though I tried as hard as I could not to. "Mr. Watertide, if you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them, because it's my responsibility to get this vessel back to Zeltiva, and that's what I intend to do. At any rate, are all of you with Mr. Watertide, or are any of you still planning to come with me?"

"I'm still with you." It was Ms. Brooks, who stepped over to my side.

Two others joined her, one of the University representatives, Hannah Watchtower, and one of the sailors, Douglas Stone. The others remained with Mr. Watertide.

"All right then. I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Watertide, and the rest of you too." I turned to the three crew members that I still had left. "We've got work to do."

I never did see Mr. Watertide or the others again. They never returned to Zeltiva, and although I sent inquiries to Abura, none of the Akvatari were able to tell the end of their story, save to confirm that they had eventually left the island.

[Liminal]

Chapter Eleven

Imtapptendosin found twenty-five Akvatari who were willing to accompany me back to Zeltiva. The Akvatari have no use for boats, capable in the water as they are, and are seldom trained in any manual labor at all, let alone working the rigging. Nonetheless, they were quick studies, and tried their hardest; fortunately, we were now on the easiest leg of the journey, one that I had made many times before. Each one, however, largely kept to him or herself, rarely speaking unless spoken to. They would sing, however, while they were working -- not the sea shanties or work chants that Zeltivan sailors sometimes use, but harrowingly beautiful lyrics of loss and regret. I couldn't focus on them, or I would often start to weep; I've never heard anything sadder in my life, and it's difficult to explain the depths of loneliness that one Akvatari's voice can plumb.

We took the normal return route, across Zindal Bay and then between Darva and the mainland. My shoulder was hurting again, but not so much that I couldn't steer the helm. As we came into the passage between Darva and the mainland, we did encounter the fog that often shrouds that area, but there are few navigation obstacles there, and it did not prove to be an issue.

Darva is a massive island composed of dark volcanic rock. The coastline is jagged, and the island is almost cut in half by Mystery Inlet. It is covered in tropical vegetation, which is thick enough to make travel difficult at best. Several peaks rise up thousands of feet from the sea, and due to the weather patterns around the island, they are shrouded in fog over two hundred days out of the year. The climate is hot and wet in the south, and slightly cooler north of Mystery Inlet.

It was discovered some hundred and fifty years earlier by one of the earliest post-Valterrian expeditions from Zeltiva; the pre-Valterrian histories, including James Damerilat's, make no mention of any island in that area. The captain named it after his girlfriend back at port. Given the island's appearance, it was perhaps not the sweeping gesture of love that one might have expected, but none of the crew, the story goes, were keen to mention this.

The expedition had anchored in the deep bay, and sent a party ashore to get water, but they hadn't penetrated more than twenty feet from the shore, given the density of the vegetation. Later sailors had sighted smoke, and even seen figures along the coastline, but attempts to contact the people living there were unsuccessful. We were interested in establishing a base of operations further south, and so we sent two further expeditions to colonize the island. Neither was ever heard from again; it was as if the island had simply swallowed them up. Their boats were anchored offshore, but there was no one aboard, and no indication of what had happened. The last such attempt had been made in 441; after that, we had always given the island a carefully wide berth.

But once we were past Darva, there was little else to do. We rounded the point that lay south of Lisnar, an easy course even in the worst of times, and then turned into Mathews Bay. It seemed somehow smaller than I remembered, but I knew it was all my imagination. We pulled alongside the docks and berthed on the first day of winter. It was my twenty-first birthday.

The people at the docks looked as if they had seen a ghost ship; I knew why, but that didn't make it any less unsettling. The Akvatari wished to make a quick exit; they would accept no payment, and barely any thanks, before diving into the water and vanishing beneath the waves.

That left the four of us -- Ms. Brooks, Mr. Stone, Ms. Watchtower and I. We walked to the Guild Hall, where we were offered refreshment and a seat by the fire. Then, leaving the other three, I went to the Senior Member's office to report.

It was the same room I had stood in so long before, but the person there was, if anything, even more intimidating than Ms. Helm. The great Timothy de Octans sat there, almost regal behind his desk. I could not read the look on his face. I inclined my head deeply.

"Captain de Octans," I said quietly, "it's done. We did it. I've got the charts and the notes to show you if you wish." I swallowed nervously. "The ship is in fair condition, though it will need to be refitted before another voyage. However...aside from myself, only three of the crew returned with me. I'm...I'm sorry, Captain."

He stood and walked around the desk, and I braced for the reprimand. But it never came -- instead, he embraced me, and I heard him say quietly, "You've done us all proud, Captain Wright."

[Liminal]

Chapter Twelve

Most of the events after that are public knowledge, and should perhaps be chronicled by others. I was not reassigned to the Abura route, or for that matter to any other route. Rather, I was appointed Honorary Chair of the University of Zeltiva's College of Navigation, a position which has largely left me alone with my thoughts and the ghosts of the voyage, and given me the time and means to compile my notes and produce this work. I have tried to write what I remember, to leave a true and honest account for any who might be inclined to read it. I have tried to do what was asked of me, what I knew I must do, and if I have not entirely succeeded, I accept any and all blame without excuse.

Ms. Brooks was promoted to Captain and given the Abura run, which she has managed faithfully throughout the intervening years. Mr. Stone decided he had had enough of sailing the sea directly, and chose instead to become a shipbuilder, a task at which I am told he is very skilled indeed. Ms. Watchtower lectures for the University about her experiences during the circumnavigation, and is a speaker in the highest demand.

And so here I leave my record, hoping it may be of some small value. May those who read it look on it gently.

Kenabelle Wright