--- Pex, Cardinal of Aphrodite POV

“What are you studying, my good Captain?”

He waves a hand at me while keeping his eye on the clear night sky. Not a cloud to be seen, only pinpoints of light on a canvas of black.

“He is navigating,” whispers Alba with a yawn.

“Navigating? What does that word mean?”

“You have seen the ocean by day. There aren’t any features or guides except the sun, which the Captain uses to guide the course of the ship, navigate. At night, he uses the pinpoints of light in the night sky. Don’t ask me how, except learning to navigate is the primary skill of a Ship Captain and the difference between a safe and dead crew.”

I stare up at the night sky and wonder. Are the pinpoints of light the Spirits on the Spirit Plane, the Gods on the God Plane, or something or someone entirely different? Several are brighter, others are larger, while the majority seem to move, or perhaps the ship is? How can the Captain navigate using the night sky?

“Are you looking to replace me, Cardinal?”

I smile and then look upon the Captain. “No, trying to understand navigating.”

“Navigation,” he says with emphasis. Teaching, though. Not belittling. “It is not the understanding of one thing. Navigation compares many things to deduce a ship’s position upon the ocean and from there a direction to travel to reach a destination. Much like upon land, except, no roads or paths to follow.” He tucks his thumbs into his belt and smiles.

“Can you explain some more?” I ask, well near beg him.

“This world has two vast continents. The northern is yours, the southern is ours. Between the two, because of some whimsy, is a vast ocean. In the centre of the ocean, like the belt around my waist, is what is called the Calm, a deadly part of the ocean for sailors, yet in this Calm is also survival. All ships must find this Calm, to restock and refit to allow them to make the second half of their journey across the ocean.”

I lounge back on my tail. His words are confusing, but I don’t wish to insult him. “How do you reach this, Calm?”

He stares at me, nods, and then opens his hands towards me. “There is a wind which travels one way when closer to the northern continent and the opposite way when closer to the southern continent. The vast water of the ocean also travels in the same way. Sailors call it the world current. So as a sailor approaches the Calm, the wind and the current are carrying his ship away. The trick is to sail from the correct side of the Calm, such that the wind and current carry your ship towards the Calm.”

“How does that make sense?” I ask, not able to control the sound of frustration in my voice.

He chuckles. I can’t believe he finds humour in my lack of understanding.

“Pretend you are the Calm. If I approach your left-hand side and the wind and current travel right to left, I will journey further away from the Calm. If I approach your right-hand side and the wind and current travel right to left, I will journey towards the Calm. Currently, the wind and current are strong, and I am trying to confirm if we are on the Calm’s left-hand or right-hand side.”

I swallow. “If we are on the wrong side?”

“We must cross the Calm quickly and reach the southern continent’s wind and current, so it sends us back towards the Calm.”

“Why cross the Calm to be sent back to the Calm… what does that mean?”

“Perhaps I will use the name of our destination, the Islands of Life. Within the entire length of the Calm sits a chain of islands, and all ships must dock there if they are to survive their onward journey. Approaching the Calm at night is the most dangerous time, the wind and current are strongest closer to the Calm, and we may miss sighting the islands. We drop sail, the ocean is too deep to weigh anchor, so we continue, angling our ship’s rudder towards the Calm while the current carries us across the ocean and hopefully not past the islands.”

“This sailing the ocean endeavour seems to require a great deal of luck…”

“I prefer skill, Cardinal. Luck is too fickle to risk your life on it.” He takes a single step away and then pauses; a single finger taps his chin. “We are, I am certain, downstream from the Islands of Life and are being carried towards them. That is the position my skill has me believing.”

As he walks away, his balance perfect regardless of the rocking of the ship, I take heart and trust in his skill as must his crew. Anything else is too horrible to contemplate, which begs the question, why do these humans sail this ocean? From his description, it is as if one continent became two, each as far apart as possible, with a sole, tenuous single link between them. A link that those who live on the southern continent, home to the humans, are most likely to discover and possibly use. Were the Beast Kin always going to await their arrival?

--- First POV

To move a tribe is a huge undertaking, yet, as I, Bucket One and Bucket Two survey the mountainside from above to determine the easiest paths and guide the trek of our peoples, what was once met with fear and doubt now seems possible. We are not alone. Many goods and chattels are being supplied by the Temples of Aphrodite nearest to our tribal lands. The Stone Giants are assisting with the shaping of stairs and slopes behind us to ensure future journeys will be safe over the mountain range. The Goddess can’t wait for their completion, she extolls us to hurry. Upon the other side of the mountain range, she promises land, which we can cultivate and establish Temples in her name, and we will not fail her.

Our quest has attracted unusual company. A Bear Kin worshipper of Bellas, saying to all how he will establish his own Trading House across the mountain and a Lizard Kin worshipper of Fabia, who wishes to heal and preserve peace with whomever we discover across the mountains. The Goddess didn’t object, so how can I, as her servant, object?

Far behind our line of climbers closing upon us in haste are several Kin.

“Bucket One and Bucket Two continue. I go to investigate some late arrivals, possibly additional guests.”

“Yes. First, be careful and call if you need our help.”

I glide downwards upon the updraft, and they spot me well before I arrive. They pause their climb to drink from their water skins while awaiting my arrival.

The male Lion Kin raises his hand. “Well met Priestess of Aphrodite, I am Trusting Cloud, Priest of Aphrodite. Accompanying me are my wife, Pleasant Voice, an Initiate of Aphrodite, and her companions, Tania and Laia, whom I am trying to bring into Aphrodite’s worship.”

Two Lion Kin worshippers and Two Panther Kin non-believers are an interesting grouping. “Why do you follow us on our quest?”

“I confess the Goddess did not call me. I have decided to follow to escape the known world of my Kin and explore beyond the mountains, travelling as far as I can. Exploring.”

The one he names Pleasant Voice lays her paw upon his forearm, drawing my attention. “Trusting Cloud excelled at hunting before he became a Priest and my companions, once Initiates of Hera were before then officials in the Panther Kin peacekeepers skilled in negotiation and force of arms. While I am the sensible one.”

The two Panther Kin chuckle joyfully while patting the female Lion Kin upon her back. Trusting Cloud doesn’t see the joke. A serious husband?

“Sensible is always good to have on any new venture. All are welcome and I hope we can exchange ideas and skills to benefit us all.” I stroke my wings to enable lift instead of hovering.

“Thank you, Priestess First. We will keep a lively pace and hope to join your people at dawn,” says the male Lion Kin.

I nod and then turn away, flying higher, requiring additional effort to do so in the thinning air. The summit is near and with it, I fear are howling winds and snow flurries. The cold will test our reptilian resolve.

--- Magus Drexel Marner, Greater Spirit

I observe and dither. First thing is to position my sight. High in the sky is safe, yet the wind, current and oar strokes propel the ship forward and I would need to reposition constantly. I settle on projecting my sight on to the top of the ship’s mast and tolerate the swaying motion as the ship rides the ocean waves.

The Sea Beast, a long writhing worm like thing, cuts through the ocean with ease, yet this Captain is brave, staying in the fast current and full sail to capture the winds instead of heading into the Calm. The time spent racing from the sea beast increases the risk of sailing by the Island, yet the consequence of slowing is almost certain destruction.

The rowers give out first, sweat soaks their once billowing shirts, the cloth sticking to their skin. From edging minutely ahead the ship minutely slows with the creature now gaining. Is now the time to intervene and possibly reveal myself?

The ship shifts into the wind, catching the sails and slows. What madness is this, yet the whipping of the mast disorientates me and all I can do is curse until the mast steadies once again. Below me, the sailors are gathering in the sail and the ship is now at the mercy of the current. A cresting wave washes over the deck. They must know to run with the waves like they have been doing! Anything else and I am certain the ship will swamp with water…

The Captain leans on the rudder and the ship flounders yet corrects and now rides the next wave while my view stares down along the length and beyond the stern of the ship. Then the ship is over the wave and racing down the other side and my view is blue sky.

As the ship levels in the trough of multiple waves the Sea Beast’s snout pierces the wave following us, wide and open, rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth present themselves which captives me as I contemplate how a gem encased in moulded stone will ever rise from beneath the sea when this ship sinks, after the entire stern is no more.

A flash of metal comes into my view. No, not any metal. The cast metal of the ship’s anchor swings at the end of its tether, a chain that two enormous fists grip. The anchor crashes into the beast’s maw at the hinge of the top and bottom jaw while rising. I witness the bone shatter so I can only imagine the crack and subsequent roar of the beast, yet the swing continues. How much strength does the Frost Giant possess? How is the ship stable while balancing such strength?

The bill of the anchor lodges protrudes from behind the eye of the beast, which means the arm of the anchor impales the head proper. What is the giant doing now…? His muscles bunch and, with a single sudden pull, the anchor snaps back. The beast isn’t swimming to keep afloat and as a deadweight, the drag on the beast’s body competes against the giant’s reefing effort and jerks the anchor free, tearing a chunk of flesh, ripping away half of the beast’s head. Red blood fountains from the wound as the head falls back into the ocean. The giant drags in the anchor and slumps down beside the Captain on the tiller. Directly below me, the sailors raise their arms and open their mouths wide. I assume cheering his feat of strength and bravery. He returns a tired smile, yet even I notice the twinkle in his very proud eyes, although this could have simply been sunlight on sea spray.

The first two into his tired arms are the Snake Kin Cardinal and her Human companion. While I appreciate the chance to continue my journey like everyone else aboard this ship, why couldn’t fate see at least one of the three cast overboard to their death?

--- Captain Dekens POV

“You have done well, my giant friend, em, can I call you friend?”

His tired smile and slight nod are enough of a yes for me and the cheering of my crew shows their appreciation who played their part as a counterbalance to his weight, especially when winding up the anchor on the end of the chain, missing hull, and sail.

“Ottar our Champion!” scream the Snake Kin and his Human and then leap into his, what I would suspect to be, tired arms. Yet he doesn’t reject either of them. Several heartbeats later and a glow infuses his flesh where they lay their hands.

“I am glad I trusted you, Cardinal. Your magic is indeed mighty, yet Ottar above all deserves the accolades.”

“Oh yes, Captain. Magic can only assist what exists and not every ship has a giant with the height, strength and the foolhardiness to stand on the stern of a ship and use a ship’s anchor as a weapon.”

Alba, yes Alba is her name, chimes in, “Ottar did that and more. The beast’s head shattered…” Her eyes shine wide with pride and wonder.

I don’t wish to dampen the celebration, yet I must say what I need to say.

“Survival is always welcome. Unfortunately, I am uncertain where we are.” I hang my head down while I force the tiller against the current.

“What do you need to know, Captain?”

Her hissing words are clearer to me now without the previously required straining of my ears, which is a wonder upon wonders. The dull appearance of her tail and larger than human sized snake like head is not immediately attractive from any point of view. There is no typical snakeskin glow or shine, no shade or blend of colours, nothing. Is this the natural appearance of Snake Kin? A robe covers her human like torso, if the modest breast bumps, forearms, and hands that have fingers are not an illusion of some sort. Again, the skin is devoid of colour, although the suppleness hints at the possibility of vibrant flesh underneath.

I hear a snap of fingers. “What do you need to know, Captain?”

I blink my eyes, or at least I think I do as I wipe the sea spray from my face with the damp sleeve of my shirt, to no effect. A poor attempt to cover up my impolite staring.

“I… I apologise, Cardinal.”

“For what good Captain?” Her thin dull grey lips draw back, hinting at the gleaming white razor-sharp teeth hidden beneath. Years of disciple school the control she has over the opening of her mouth, I realise. How would a human react to a larger than human head opening in front of them full of sawing teeth? This management isn’t natural though, which suggests she did, once upon a time, radiate colour. What is her secret tragedy?

I observe her hand rising, her fingers in position… “I wonder about my crew and honoured passengers. All around us is the ocean and I have no context except east and west, which means nothing because the wrong direction will see us short of food and water and at each other. Friendships will be tested.”

She abandons the scrunching of her body and rises above me, and I am lost in her dark obsidian eyes. I shiver. Are those pointed teeth of hers about to sheer my head off at the neck?

“You are my good friend, good Captain and if you tell me what you need, maybe I, or the Prophet?” She waves a hand towards the human female, Alba. “Not forgetting Ottar the Champion can assist?”

To wet my throat, I swallow. “I need to search the horizon for one of the twin mirrors, Cardinal. I have done this. Arend Lange, our lookout, now wearing a face of failure and climbing down the mast, has done this. We are lost.”

“Can you call Arend over?” she asks.

I scratch my chin and observe him drop to the deck. He shakes his head, confirming what I already know. Success would look a lot different. I wave him over. He stares at me… Does he think I will punish him? The crew pat one of his arms, depending upon which side of the ship they row on, as he passes them.

“No mirror?”

He shakes his head.

The Cardinal looms over both of us and Arend backs away, his eyes wide.

“I apologise, Arend, but if you trust me, I am certain I can assist you with my magic. Are you willing to trust me?”

He is a sailor. A Snake Kin, a Giant, and a human journey together, and I suspect the fact that the human still lives and is content in their company is the sole reason the crew has tolerated the trio during this onward voyage. That and the fact, but for them, we would still be trying to free the ship off a faraway foreign shore.

A superstitious sailor, his eyes search mine for reassurance and I crane my head up to meet the Cardinal’s eyes.

“Cast your magic on me first,” I state.

She draws her lips thin again, yet this time reveals more of the white of her teeth… Does she trust me to not cower? She declares me a good Captain, a good friend. Is this the truth her religion speaks of? Is this her outwardly showing more of her inner mirth?

“I haven’t seen you climb the mast as competently as young Arend, and I would think for all our sakes we should invest my magic in our best chance. And to be blunt, while I value your experience as a Captain, I trust in a youth’s younger muscles when climbing and his eyes when on lookout.” She lowers herself to rest upon her tail, the muscles which contract, curl smooth and gradual beneath her torso until she is eye to eye with Arend. “Do you trust me, young sailor, as I will need to trust you to spot the mirrors your Captain speaks about?”

He nods. I know what he is seeing. Her inhuman eyes have an unexplained warmth behind them. A deep sorrow that reaches in beyond difference and embraces… and time washes over us both.

“It is done. Hold your sailor, Captain.” I casually place my hand upon Arend’s shoulder, wondering. “Blink your eyes, Arend, and rely upon your Captain to steady yourself for a moment.”

He throws his head back and sways. I need to grip his shoulder while his hands reach out to me. He opens his mouth; I think to scream, yet doesn’t, as he follows the Cardinal’s advice and blinks several times. I feel the crew watching, the grips upon their oars tightening…

“Amazing!” he shouts and lurches towards the gunnel until both hands latch on. His head then scans the ocean. “Amazing!”

Pushing himself from the gunnel, he leans on the shoulders of the crew as he rushes towards the mast. Shortly after, he is scampering upwards. Once he reaches the top, we hear pure, full-throated yelps of joy.

“What was the magic?”

“In simple terms, the magic magnifies the vision of the eyes. With control, the subject can examine minute things as if they were larger or the natural inclination of most is to view faraway things closer. The spell is called [Farsee] and one, which the Goddess Aphrodite, em.” She coughs. “Interesting. I can only say, stole from the God Zeus. I tried the word borrow, but my Goddess’s Truth Realm prevented me. Interesting.”

The dull grey snakeskin upon the crown of her head wrinkles—the human equivalent of a frown?

“Why do you say interesting?”

Her lips draw back again as she meets my eyes. “The Goddess Aphrodite and her worshippers draw their Divine Power from four Realms, Fertility, Death, Truth, and Disorder. The Truth Realm ensures between worshippers of equal standing, lying is impossible. For example, I could not lie to Alba, and she could not lie to me. We could tell a half-truth to Ottar, but why would we risk breaking his trust? To you though, my good Captain, you aren’t a worshipper of the Goddess, yet I believe there is ample trust between us. The Truth Realm has clearly bound me to tell you the truth, even if the bending was a humorous one about the origin of the [Farsee] spell.”

“Why?”

She hisses—laughter? “That is the interesting part. Our Goddess has been weakened recently. Her access to the Disorder Realm diminished, if not blocked. The Disorder Realm permitted degrees of variation in her other realms and, perhaps without those, certain boundaries once only upon her worshippers are now expanding.”

Under her breath, I hear several curses and face Alba. Her cheeks blush. “Sorry Captain. As a Prophet, I need to spread the word of Aphrodite far and wide and enlighten many to her benefits. Like anything new, you don’t begin with detail, which now I guess will be required if I am bound by absolute truth. Therefore, my option to start with an overview, generalities, and highlights is no longer possible.” She stretches her body while her hands wipe her face. “My task, good Captain has become so much more of a challenge …”

“Captain! Captain!”

Arend with joyful shouts interrupts our conversation and I need to catch him to contain his excitement.

I hold his shoulders. “Steady.”

His head bobs up and down while drawing in a deep breath. “The mirrors, one of the two, winked at me from the East. We need to cross the Calm and then ride the southern current back towards the islands! Captain, we are saved.”

I clamp a hand upon his shoulder and shout to the crew, “To the oars and into the Calm, men!”

The ocean claims the flesh and washes away the bloodstain of the sea creature behind us. The smaller fish feasting on the carcass to grow. It takes a day and night of rowing to pass through the Calm and as the breeze hits our backs, blowing east, we raise the sail. Arend lines up for another casting of [Farsee] and the Cardinal obliges. We exchange a knowing look. Arend’s sight doesn’t require the spell to guide us now.

“Captain,” he shouts.

I look up. His arm extends, pointing south, and then he hurries down the mast.

“A fleet Captain, large, slow Empire ships.” He shuts and then opens his eyes. “The decks crawled with men-at-arms, Captain and those that didn’t, hold livestock. What does that mean?”

“Invasion?” I murmur. But where? The Islands have always been the domain of the descendants of the original Captain and crew who discovered the sanctuary in the middle of nowhere. How many ships were blown north in storms and lost before one ship found salvation? Their charter underwritten tens of years ago by the many Kingdoms before the creation of the Empire and has been long respected since. Has this changed now? Has the Emperor found a need to control this half-way point to the northern continent?

“We could beat them Captain…”

His words register. Yet my mind is elsewhere for the moment.

“Ottar will be the difference on the oars, full sail, the ship riding the current and the waves. Captain?”

“You are certain?”

“The spell Captain, I ordinarily wouldn’t look elsewhere… they tack across the ocean. You know them. They sail from point A to point B in the straightest line possible.”

“To the oars, we need to dock, relay some bad news, refit, and be away before the Empire fleet visits, in whatever capacity and intent,” I bellow.

Late afternoon my three passengers gaze upon the two mirrors, the sun sinking into the west, reflecting off the snow and ice caps of the island’s mountain chain. The chain rises directly out of the ocean as if left behind, not wanted or forgotten by either continent.

“Have you sailed around the southern continent, Captain?” asks Alba.

I turn about and notice the Cardinal and Ottar still studying the mountains.

“Yes, Prophet. To be elevated to the rank of Captain, you must circumnavigate the continent as a crew member of other’s ships and visit multiple ports when you do. The more the better, because depending upon how many Captains are required, the minimum maybe extremely high when you apply, if unlucky.”

She stares out across the ocean and seems lost in her thoughts. As I am about to turn away, she speaks. “I have a memory of the southern continent. The centre is all snow and ice with the various nations, like jewels on a necklace occupying the coastline?”

“Indeed, Prophet. The Empire began as a single Kingdom and conquered its neighbours. Our Kingdom and several others are the only ones left, and they have established an alliance to halt any future Empire consumption.”

“Ask Arend to climb the mast, Captain, and scan the ocean behind us.” She leans her elbows upon the gunnel, her eyes searching the ocean.

After a short while, Arend reports and confirms the Prophets’ suspicion, another fleet. This one is a mix of ships because they are from several kingdoms, that share an alliance. They have the wind behind them and while the distance from the islands is further, odds are both fleets can’t help but meet.

Our sails are useless now. The crew stay by their oars as I stay with the tiller. The sheer side of the mountains plunging into the ocean mesmerise our passengers and I inwardly chuckle as I know what awaits them. I steer the ship through the western teeth, slightly shallow and the opening narrow compared to the other entrances into the Cauldron, yet no risk to our shallow draft ship.

A hand taps my arm and I catch the Cardinal peering over the side of the ship and pointing and waving with her other hand.

“Under the ship! There is a mountain under the ship!”

“Look ahead Cardinal. The islands are a broken circle, the western entrance shallow and narrow, and in order of size, the eastern is next, then the southern and finally the largest and the most generous, the northern. Do you have your [Farsee] spell upon your eyes?” She nods. “Look to the centre of the circle. What do you see?”

Her body moves about, writhing, almost in panic, yet I sense excitement.

“The ocean boils, Captain. How?”

“No one knows. The edges are tolerable. The centre will take a man’s flesh from his bones.”

Shade travels down the length of the ship. My passengers stare at me and I point up. The western gate is a true entrance. We sail under an arch of stone or through a tunnel in the mountainside depending on different opinions. I lean on the tiller to steer hard north. There is a single habitable island because of a cove and the gradual incline running away from the ocean. The dock is the stone of the mountain. Over tens of years, the length increases so more ships can dock at once. There isn’t enough dock carved into the stone to support half of one of the approaching fleets, let alone two such fleets.

The crew throws the bow and stern ropes of the ship towards the dock. The dockhands grab them and tie them off around the stone pillars which rise out of the dock. They have removed enough mountain rock to permit a dock with enough clearance for men to load and unload cargo. There is an overhang, the mountain above, which blocks any view of the sky. This complicates the easing of Ottar out of the ship because he cannot stand on the dock, yet proudly I stand by while the crew ably assists him. It isn’t everyone who can say they have not only survived but also slain a huge sea creature and Ottar is a hero to all of them.

I explain the urgency to the dock overseer and along with Arend, the Cardinal, Alba and a bent over Ottar, we make our way to the Governor’s Manor. A solid building built from excavated stone and, except for the front entrance, has doorways but no doors.

The dock overseer whispers to the senior guard on the door and walks back to join us.

“I realise the import of your news and explained that to the guard, unfortunately the Island Master is busy… with a family matter and has issued strict orders not to be disturbed.” He bows and wrings his hands. A functionary, who knows all the lives on the island are in danger, but not immediately so like him, if he interrupts his master.