The waves were gently rocking Nannade in her sleep when a loud bang on the hatch awoke her. It was Muhtessem bringing breakfast. He had allowed Nannade to sleep on the boat after making sure she could not steer if five feet away from the shore by herself. She slept in the bunk that was in the shed at the boat’s stern, which was almost spacious for her, but it must be rather cramped for the broad and hefty man. She still didn’t like it. She preferred more open spaces to sleep, even better if they were up high.

They sat on the small shed, which reached just above Nannade’s knees, and ate breakfast.

“So, tell me again what I’m supposed to do.” Nannade asked him. “I don’t exactly know what soothsingers do here.”

“Well, they protect ships with their singing, that’s all I know. They sing to the spirits to assuage them.”

Nannade thought for a moment. “I think I can do that. You said the cleft is dangerous?”

“Yes. Further inland, where the rock walls rise up several thousand feet, rocks can tumble from up high, also, noxious gasses can bubble up from below and swallow ships or kill the sailors. People say the spirits do that. But if a Soothsinger is with the ship, they can protect the ship, or placate the spirits, I don’t know exactly what they’re doing. The Mages shoot lightning at the falling rocks and create invisible shields around the ship. Can you do that?”

Nannade swallowed another bite of smoked fish on bread. “I guess I could construct such spells, but I’m no true mage. I can only write magic down, not creating it with a staff or wand or what the mages use. Spirits are my forte. And I think I know what’s wrong with the salt river and what we need. But I’ll need something else first.”

“What?”

“Most spirits usually take payment. Where I come from, we seek council from the spirits about the harvest, so grain is fitting to pay a spirit. But out here? I guess spirits of water, fire, earth and wind are not so keen on grain. Rock salt would be good.”

Muhtessem hummed in contemplation. “Rock salt is expensive; will you need much?”

“Can’t say. Maybe a little. Is there any kind of fish or something that can be bought alive... such as in a barrel with water? Still living things are preferred as sacrifice.”

Again, Muhtessem hummed in that contemplative tone. “I guess crabs. Does it have to be high grade?”

“Just alive and not diseased.”

“I guess I can get a small barrel of crabs.”

With long oars, Muhtessem and Nannade steered the boat towards the docks right below the bridge. He hailed to a man at the peers and informed him that the Flitting Fiona could still take on cargo northbound. He mentioned at one point “I can feel some very lucky winds blowing my way.” Nannade deduced that expensive cargo could get more coin, but needed a bigger investment. After all, Muhtessem needed to buy the cargo first. He also took a small barrel of brown crabs on board, filled with water to keep them alive and well. She was sure they’d do just fine for the spirits.

Nannade looked around the mouth of the river. They were almost directly under the bridge and ahead of them was a very long but narrow cargo ship being loaded with the cranes from above. At the stern Nannade could see a mage, wearing a robe in the colours of Southbridge university. Her staff had at least nine metal rings as far she could see, denoting her as an accomplished person.

All around on the sides of the harbour close to the start of the salt river, many small or at least narrow ships lay ready, as if waiting for something, and after all the cargo had been brought aboard the Flitting Fiona, Muhtessem would still not set out.

“What are we waiting for?”

“The start of tide, should be soon now. There, the first are getting into position. Let’s safe ourselves a nice spot.”

Muhtessem pointed ahead, where the crew of another small boat brought their vessel into position with long oars. Muhtessem beckoned Nannade to join him in doing the same.

“Tide is when the water rises, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Twice a day, the tide comes in and goes out again, but I can’t explain it. It just does. When it starts coming in, the water rushes into the cleft, and so does the wind, then, it starts flowing out again. We called it the daily breath, because it is as if the cleft itself is breathing.”

More and more small boats set out inland, getting in position. Then the wind started to pick up. Nannade felt as if a deep, droning howl was starting, reverberating in her soul, the still waters became an impatient torrent. The tide had started, and it got stronger from moment to moment.

Those at the front let their colourful sails unfurl and dashed towards the narrowing cleft. Then, as the Flitting Fiona reached the middle of the river, Muhtessem let his sails unfurl as well. The white may had gathered some grime, but it held strong as caught the wind and the boat jolted forwards. The Flitting Fiona joined her sisters down the salt river.

Salty wind blew through Nannade’s hair and she took in the fresh breeze. Muhtessem was at the stern, manning the rudder. He occasionally waved and yelled greetings to other passing captains. Nannade did the polite thing and joined in.

She realized something: such a massive flow of water and wind would certainly have a strong influence on the ley-lines. This could be what made this ley-line so strong and unchanging. She calmed her mind and concentrated on what laid beyond. Yes, she could feel them, see them, hear them, the spirits that too joined in with the boats, as if they were riding on the wake of a huge ship. But why would they cause mischief? Nannade would have to wait and observe. None of the wisps of wind and water here right now seemed keen on causing trouble and pain. But as the river grew tighter and the banks rose into cliffs, she could see something else. She could see the warm water rising up from below, where the ground was still gaping and exposing the world’s hot blood. The Great Sundering might have been well over a thousand years ago, but to the world, the wound was still fresh and bleeding. And festering. Its anger and pain rose up from below with the warmth and gave birth to confused and irritated beings

She could see pain and rage take form and lash out before vanishing into nothingness again, sprites, beings that were to spirits like sparks were to flames. Maelstroms and bubbling gas, falling rock and shaking cliffs were their short-lived legacy before the disappeared into nothingness.

And so, all the boat captains, experienced and fresh, were sailing through a boiling pot of chaos, while the ships that could afford mages or soothsingers were safely passing through. Those with security did not have to concern themselves with speed to get the best price.

Nannade turned her eyes forward. By now, only few boats could fit aside each other and the cliffs rose many feet above them. She did not know of the spirits could understand her or what they wanted to hear, nonetheless, she drew her voice from deep within her chest and started to sing. She took one of the crabs out of the barrel and raised it into the wind. She took her pick on a wisp of wind that rode through the air close to them. Then she took her dagger and stabbed through its shell. The spirit took its offering with glee and the loose, dried pieces of its shell rained on the deck. She sang only for this one and it would stick close to them, keep the breeze in their sail stiff and drive the wrathful ones away from their course.

Their journey was uneventful, and the Flitting Fiona - as well as the boats close to her – enjoyed a strong and steady wind for almost the entire rising tide. From the cliffs, swifts, swallows and seagulls dived down into the wind and stream carrying ample prey for them below their nests. Nannade saw waterfalls pour down into the cleft, mostly small streams and brooks, all from the west. Some of them had carved a small sidearm into the rock of the cliffs over the last thirteen centuries. Tessem had told her that by the midpoint, so many were pouring in that they caused the salt river to flow outwards on its own. That meant the journey out from the midpoint would be even faster, because the flowing river would help the tides along. She also saw boats anchored to the cliffs to their left, facing the opposite direction. Their ropes were tied to metal hooks and rings pounded into the rock face.

“They’re waiting for the breath out so they can continue their journey.” Muhtessem told Nannade. “Soon, we’ll have to lay line as well, so we won’t get flushed back out the way we came when the tide turns around.”

As the breath of the day came to its peak, it slowed down and many boats either threw anchor or put out oars. With the breeze dying down and reverting soon, the wisp flew off to wherever the new course would take it. Nannade and Muhtessem got a little further ahead with rowing, but eventually, the Flitting Fiona was brought to the cliff to their right.

“Other people have left these.” Muhtessem told her. “Sometimes, I still put one there as well, but there are enough for now.”

He threw ropes over some of the anchors, and there they remained, as the few boats with enough crew to row all the way passed them by. Only now did Nannade notice just how strong the tidal flow was. Steadily, the water line sank and they needed to untie the ropes and tie new ones from time to time to not be left hanging on the cliff. Tessem used the opportunity to teach Nannade more about knots and manning the rudder, so she could take it when it was her shift. They’d need to travel about three and a half days, but if the wind kept being as favourable as it was, they’d make it in just three, no doubt.

Nannade sang as much as she could to soothe the wrathful ones still bubbling up from below, but eventually, her already hoarse voice gave in. “I’m sorry!” she cawed to Muhtessem. Maybe she should have taken that bone flute from the Druids. She could still try dancing, but she did not want to fall off the swaying boat. She still had a pot of rock salt and the crabs to help her out.

Many fast boats riding on the breeze outwards riding on the breath outwards. Some of the other anchored boats were close enough together for the crew to have little chats with each other and even have their lunch together, but none were close enough to Fiona for that. Nannade did not cry over the missed opportunity.

She decided to start working on her project. She got out her sewing kit and started by cutting the linen in two one-foot-wide pieces, then she put the snake skin between the two and fixed all three parts together with seams around the edges. The main runes she needed would be made in sinew as well, in the centre where the snakeskin was placed, but the most work would be the fine embroidery that was to cover it all. Even if the spirit was compliant, binding it into an object still maintained a strong spell. She didn’t need yarn for it all, she’d use her hair. It had grown beyond her ears for the first time since she met Garetas, who was very keen on her keeping it short to not hinder her during training and work. Elissa had beautifully long hair, and a witch’s hair was her most important crafting material. Now it was Nannade’s time to make proper use of it.

Muhtessem observed all of this with eager interest, and Nannade told him what she was willing to impart on him. Making charms and wards for spirits wasn’t hard beyond being a medium and knowing the craft, so inexperienced, even non-mediums, could get themselves in trouble by imitating half of a spell they had once witnessed. Without the ability to actually commune with the spirits, the outcome was uncontrollable. Arcane Magic was hard for everyone, even accomplished mages had difficulties grasping the many forms and fields of the arcane sciences, it was in the mystic arts that the laymen’s foolishness bore the most dire fruits.

She started to hum gently, stitching the cloth and occasionally offering another crab to the spirits. Muhtessem lay down in the bunk to be fresh for the next shift. Nannade was to wake him when the water line stopped falling.

It was evening when the tide finally stopped falling. Nannade had taken care of the ropes and anchors and put a bit of work into her project, but her voice had not yet recovered. Still, she had sung a few words and any dangers she could observe – like stinking gas bubbles and falling rocks – had happened far off from Fiona. She woke Muhtessem and they got ready for the rising tide.

He put her to the rudder this time. He’d make sure to offer crabs from time to time on her regard, as soon as Nannade had found another spirit willing to accompany them. The journey continues and Nannade held the boat steady. Tessem had quite a large light vial that put up on a post at Fiona’s bow. It shone bright enough to keep them far from the stone walls or waiting vessels on the left-hand side of the salt river. Nannade started to struggle against sleep and Tessem noticed.

“Go get some sleep, girl.” He told her.

“But the spirits! I have to keep the boat safe.”

“I’ve managed to keep the ship afloat for over thirty years, a single tide without a soothsinger won’t do much harm. I’ll just keep offering the crabs, hopefully it’ll be enough. I can’t have you fall off the boat because you’re too tired to stand up. No go sleep!”

He took the rudder and she complied. She crawled into the bunk and was quickly fast asleep. In her dreams, she felt raging heat and soothing winds battle, a play repeated since thirteen centuries, not to cease any time soon.