Stormcallers: Chapter 11

When Phalamili stepped above deck once more, she was amazed to see how well the Prezon had weathered the storm. The ice had begun to melt, and the winds blew gently compare to their earlier tempestuousness. Ropes twisted in the wind like dried vines, and shards of splintered wood covered the deck.

But the sails were still full, and the masts still stood tall. Phalamili could scarce believe her eyes, as she had been certain the storm would have destroyed them all.

But the ice-storm had been a small one, the kind often seen on the cloud-sea. Loud and dangerous, yes, as all storms are, but the sailors were experienced hands. They had pulled up the sails, so the ice did not cut them. They turned into the wind, so the squalls did not crash into their sides. They had spread salt and sand, so the ice did not freeze so readily. Thus, they had avoided the worst of the storm’s wrath. Phalamili did not know this, however, and she thought it more evidence of the Erosean’s great magics.

But alas, there was one piece of the Prezon that did not fare so well; the stach-fin had been torn to pieces, and now hung limply off the ship’s side. Poor Phalamili, no sooner had she spied the pitiful wreck, then a shout came from the aft of the ship. “There she is! Beldam! Storm-blown hag! Do you see what she has done?”

It was Leig who stomped up to Phalamili with eyes full of hate. She staggered back from the first-mate’s advancing fury, not fast enough to escape a withering blow that sent her to the deck. He shouted to the surrounding crew; “She brought the storm upon us! We all know it! You all saw what she did! She tried to tear apart the ship!”

It was true, the other sailors had seen what poor Phalamili had done. She had seen the sailors hauling on ropes, the same as her father had done when he held the soaked leather to the wind-breaks. In her panic, she had known only to pull on a rope, that this was some magic that would save them all. How wrong she had been, poor girl, and how much damage she had caused, for in her panic she had unlashed the rope that opened the stach-fin, and opened it into the raging storm. The ice had torn the fin apart, and now it hung useless off the side of the ship. Now the sailors were frightened, for a broken fin would delay their journey, and the stores were already low.

Phalamili could see the anger in the sailors’ bodies, but most of all in the first mate’s. Leig’s body was coiled, grasping, ready to lunge forward and grab her by the throat. Everyone was staring at her, with a look in their eyes of scorn born from fear.

Perhaps Leig would have killed her, had Kerrom the swamp knight not stepped to her side, for he had seen the fear in her eyes, and admired her bravery in fighting the storm, even when she did not know how to do so. At seeing him stand at her side, the crew paused, their bodies betraying their caution at Kerrom’s presence. His festna glimmered on his back, the leather creaking as he folded his giant arms in defiance.

But Leig was pious, and that piety gave him courage. He stepped closer, his hate-filled eyes flashing as he spat: “We saw you, girl! During the storm you opened the stach-fin! We all saw you do it! You unlashed the rope and opened the fin so the ice would tear it to pieces!”

While Leig still pointed, Captain Festan shoved his way though the assembled crew. “What’s going on here? Why are you lot not repairing the ship? Mister Leig, what is the meaning of this!”

Leig gripped his holy medallion as he spoke. “Nothing we don’t all already know, Captain. This girl’s a Beldam! She’s come from Lergos, isn’t she? We run from an Erwind ship, get close to the depths, and all of a sudden an ice-storm cuts a hole in our balloon! Then she opens the stach-fin and holds it while the ice tears it to pieces. We’re becalmed, captain, because of what she did. I tell you captain, she’s ill luck. We all know what them tribals are like, chanting to their heathen spirits. They survive lower than any other island in the sea, don’t they? They don’t do that by natural means.”

Though Captain Festan was a clever man, he was not a brave man. While it took courage to sail the cloud-sea, it was the lure of fortune that stiffened his spine and set his jaw. While Captain Festan was the Captain of the Prezon, he knew how little the title mattered when the crew was tired, scared, and angry. He knew how easily a terrified crew could turn on its captain, or any single man who stood between them and safety.

And in truth, his girl servant worried him fiercely; he too thought the people of Lergos had a connection to the storms unknown to the civilized races. But Captain Festan was also pious, though he was of a different faith than Leig, and so he had a secret reason for allowing Phalamili on the Prezon.

So it was with quick thinking that the Captain turned to his crew, and said “She is my servant, and I will punish her. That is my final word on the subject. Right, you lot,” he shouted, voice afresh with the strength of command. “get about your work and fix our ship! That sail won’t mend itself. The sooner we get our ship moving the sooner we reach Herathia!” The crew’s eyes were sullen and their voiced grumbling as they returned to their work. Phalamili could see the begrudging obedience in their bodies, and she wondered what her punishment would be.

But the Captain was not finished shouting. Raising his hand in the air, he called out to the Navigator, who was looking at the surrounding damage with interest. “Mister Cintiona! To me!”

When Atamato reached his Captain’s side, he turned his head like this, and asked “Yes, Captain? What may I do for you?”

This angered the captain further, for an experienced Navigator should have known what he needed to do. Captain Festan reached out and gripped Atamato by his shoulder, and said: “I have put up with a lot of nonsense from you. When you begged me to allow you to sign on as our Navigator, I thought you were too young; but you were cheap, and eager, and didn’t talk like a fool. I thought I could give you a chance. Now, I find you up and about on deck after a storm, without a single tool or chart in hand.”

Atamato bristled at this, and straightened his tunic with an indignant tug, like this. He stuck out his jaw, and said: “Captain, I must protest. Have any of my courses proven inaccurate? I promise you, the math is sound. My course to Herathia is as accurate as any other.”

Captain Festan grit his teeth, and leaned in close to the head-strong boy. “Have you ever been in a storm before? They don’t just tap and rattle the ship. Do you know how far and how fast that storm pushed us? Do you know if we’re closer or further away from Herathia?”

Of course, Atamato did not know this, as he had put his faith in his math. Swallowing his fear, he told the Captain: “I will have us back on course before the day is out, Captain.” And with that, he turned about and ran back below decks.

Phalamili enjoyed seeing the brash boy shaken out of his confidence. So delighted was she, that she decided to follow after him to gloat at his misfortune. But no sooner had she started to move, then Atamato returned with his arms full of metal tools, papers, and a small wooden cage.

She recognized at once the bird inside, a quayla from his room. No sooner had he stepped on deck than he placed his equipment on the deck, pinning the papers down with the cage. She watched as he worked, pointing tools into the air and writing in a small notebook as he did so. He walked back and forth across the deck, studying the baloke and counting the anemometer. He pointed his writing stick at different points on the cloudy horizon, and then stuck it in his mouth as he stared at his notes.

At last, after comparing his charts and calculations, Atamato picked up the wooden cage and a metal angle. Shuffling the cage and angle about, he tried to hold the angle to his eye while opening the cage, and failed due to his lack of limbs. So strange was his dance that Phalamili could not help but laugh.

When he heard her merriment, Atamato set the cage down with an angry huff. “If you are going to stand there, you can at least help me with the greet.”

Phalamili did not know this word, so she stopped her laughter, afraid that Atamato would insult her ignorance again. But Atamato was not concerned with this, and instead he pointed to the wooden cage. “The greet, there. Can you let it out?” He placed the angle to his eye again, sighting down the small tube.

Phalamili did not understand his intent, but she did not think to protest. Quayla were strong animals, capable of flying against the storms with grace and skill. It saddened her to see them caged, and it was with a sense of great satisfaction that she opened the cage and held it in the air.

The quayla fluttered its wings in the wind for a moment before hopping onto the ship’s railing and taking flight. It darted away, flying and circling through the currents of wind. Atamato muttered to himself as he pointed his angle where the quayla vanished, and they stood, waiting for an hour.

“Ah ha!” Atamato shouted at last. “There we are! Seven point five degrees lord.”

“What do you mean?” Phalamili asked. “Where did the quayla go?”

Atamato sneered back at her. “You mean the greet? Greets have an unerring sense for land. They can glide for days on the cloud-sea without stopping, straight as an arrow. If a greet doesn’t come back to the ship by now, it must know where the land is. This is how they sailed before navigators, they used greets to find land they couldn’t see. Now we head in the direction the greet flew, and if we don’t see land within a day, we’ll let loose another one. I must go tell the Captain at once.”

Phalamili had not known this about quayla, but it felt good to know it. Her father had called her Quayla to make her laugh. It made her feel good to think that she might too be able to always know where home was, and to reach it across the cloud-sea, further than another might.

While Atamato completed his calculations, Phalamili looked out across the cloud-sea. The clouds allowed a stretch of blue horizon to be seen between the dark clouds below them and the lighter clouds above. They were thick, however, and the light above could not be seen through the cloth-like expanse of white.