Leviathan (Lost Civilizations: 2) by Vaughn Heppner

Author:Vaughn Heppner [Heppner, Vaughn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy
Published: 2010-06-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Sea Battle

He makes the depths churn like a boiling caldron and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment.

-- Job 41:31

The fog covered the harbor like a deadly shroud. Captain Maharbal ordered the pilot and several sailors into a boat. They rowed ahead of the Tiras, a long rope attached between them. By careful stages, with the pilot leading them, the two ships exited Gandvik Harbor. The Vergelmir seethed with a special malignance. The waves frothed and swirled in strange currents and splashed foam across the deck. Captain Maharbal roared orders; sails were hoisted, a sheet creaking in the blocks, and the canvas was drenched with dripping spume.

The Tiras pitched first one way and then another. The wind, however, was lifeless. Enclosed in dreary fog, they saw naught, but could feel the hidden shoals lurking in the crash and shudder of waves, and thought they would soon be dashed to splinters. The long oars slid out. Men strained to pull as strange currents grabbed at the oars, fouling them.

“Necromancy is being used against us!” Auroch roared. “I feel the vileness of the spells swirling in the air.”

Tarshmen stared at Auroch in terror, the whites of their eyes visible.

Joash hunkered low, holding Harn’s thick neck. If the waves worsened, Joash didn’t want Harn to be pitched overboard. He wondered if the many Seraphs aboard would act as a shield against necromancy.

Setting a steersman in his place, Captain Maharbal rushed from the tiller deck, and re-marshaled the demoralized rowers. He took the time-beater’s leather-cushioned mallets and struck the copper-covered drum as he marked the strokes. For several beats, the Tiras struggled as the odd eddies and growing waves knocked the oars askew. Patiently, Captain Maharbal walked from one rower to the next. He laughed at several white-faced sailors and glowered at a rower who said they were doomed.

“Do not tell me on my own ship that we’re doomed. Hold the oar as the second mate has shown you. Watch the oar-master on the end, as he makes the stroke. Do likewise.” Captain Maharbal grinned in a comradely fashion and slapped the rower on the shoulder. When Captain Maharbal next beat the copper-covered drum, they rowed with a will. And despite the swirling waters, the Tiras moved where Captain Maharbal desired.

Joash feared the way the deck pitched under his feet. He didn’t want to slide off the deck and sink into those dark waters. So he grabbed onto a rope to remain in one spot. Harn and he were swayed one way and another. The fog hid the Gisgo behind them and the guiding boat ahead.

A shout rang through the fog from the lookout in the crow’s nest.

A moment of terror clutched Joash’s heart. Then the fog parted, and the Tiras wallowed into the sunlight. People cheered. Quickly, despite the harsh sea, sailors retrieved the pilot and his men. Joash looked back. The fog was like a wall that hid Gandvik Rock and the Gisgo. To his relief, the Gisgo slid into the sunlight.

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