We come now to the fourth ship of the five. We come to a ship whose crew revelled in the storm. The night before, when sailors from all five ships had descended upon the taverns of the harbour, it had been they who had drank the most, bedded the most, sang the loudest, and fought the hardest. This was a crew that longed for adventure, who knew their lives were fleeting things, and would fill the precious moments they had with stories to tell or be told about them. As the storm filled the horizon before them they rushed onto it eagerly, outstripping the other four ships and laughing as they did so.
The storm was fierce, but they matched it with their own ferocity. The ship did not ride the waves, it tore through them. The laughter of the crew grew into shouts of defiance, animal roars of the living against the untethered power of nature. Whatever the other ships were doing, however their crews were faring did not cross their minds. They were behind them, the storm was in front of them, and their eyes only looked forward. This was why these men set sail, why they found it so hard to stay on dry land. They needed the jeopardy, to contest the natural world and find out if they matched up or not. The life expectancy for any who stepped aboard this ship was never long and this storm would surely reduce it drastically for some. For those who perished they would drink to their memory and tell the tales they weaved during their lives, before continuing to create more stories. Soon they would have their greatest tale.
Dear reader you know well already that this is no ordinary storm. The men aboard this ship could sense that too. To start with though they could not imagine how far out of the ordinary it was. They did not know the strange planes of existence the winds blew from, or depths the currents disturbed, and the dark hidden things that were awakened in ancient seas. The storm on the surface that they could see was only a part of the full scope of the storm. Like an iceberg there was far more hidden below. Chasms in the ocean floor, like doors to another world that had no more interaction with those above than to accept the corpses that drifted down, were caught up in these strange currents, as were their denizens. Primeval caves, sealed as the world was still forming were ripped open, and prisoners of a different time poured out. Above it all our ship rode the storm.
The crew of the ship were grateful for the storm. They thought of it as a good test to start with on their voyage, a reminder of the dangers of the sea. They had not sailed on seas such as these before. Another wave reared up in front of the ship, lightning flashed, and illuminated a great many eyes looking back at the crew. As the wave descended onto the ship so too did chaos.
Creatures from the depths were unleashed by the storm upon the crew. An array of monsters with no love for humans attacked the unsuspecting sailors with claws, spines, and stingers. They found themselves now in a battle not only with the elements but with these ocean dwelling terrors also. Off the ship the sea boiled with the writhing of fins, flippers, and tentacles. Great gods of the dark corners of ancient oceans rose up out of the calamity and fought with enemies from eons past. Back on the ship the crew fought and killed anything that came near them that was not human. Eyes came out of the water to loom over them and were stabbed out before the form of the beast could be revealed. Tentacles that wrapped around man or ship were hacked at viciously until they released their prey or were hewn. Some of the crew were dragged or thrown into the sea, others were run through by horns or spines as great as lances. One fearsome creature, with a claw as big as a man, roamed the ship removing limbs and heads from the sailors with violence and precision. As it continued its path off death across the ship one unsuspecting sailor was snared by the creature’s claw about the waist. Without hesitation the claw tore through bone, muscle, and organs and split the man in half. Brave though the sailors aboard this ship were how could they hope to survive these monsters?
For a group of men such as those aboard this ship to coalesce and function as a unified crew they need a leader. This leader needs to have an iron will, a ruthless determination that sets them above the rabble of would-be heroes, the intuition to dominate a crisis, and that special unseen force that compels others to follow. They had a leader such as this. While the adventures of their ship had taken them down a path that many of their fellows had fallen along he had survived all, such that there were none now left alive who could say how he had taken the captaincy of the vessel. This only added to his legend. In every story of their exploits he was there, often the one to raise the sinking ship and deliver them from doom. He was with them once again. As the torso of the sailor fell to deck from the merciless attack of the great crab, and it seemed defeat and despair would overwhelm them, the captain found a split in the monster’s armour and drove his cutlass into the gap. He dragged the blade through the soft tissue under the hard exoskeleton and spilled its insides out.
While the aura of the captain held the crew together his cutlass gave them a symbol to follow. It was not just a part of his legend; it was the legend. None could agree how the captain had come into possession of the ship, but all agreed that the cutlass was wrapped up in it. Some said he had won it in combat from the previous captain, others that he had come back with it after a forgotten adventure in a sea that did not appear on any map. Others still said that it had been bequeathed to the captain by a god of the sea. Well now there were gods of the sea battling in the storm around the ship, and if the captain was holding their sword aloft catching lightning in its blade, then he did not seem far removed from their ranks.
Their victory should have now been assured. As we have seen many times though this storm did not care how things should have been or should not be, and it was still in its rage unleashing the hidden horrors of the deep.
Silent in the cacophony of the storm the mer-people rose up out of the water on their tails, surrounding the ship in a ring of cruel leering faces, and strong arms wielding fearsome tridents. The crew did not stand a chance. The mer-people unleashed such violence upon them that few born on land have ever witnessed. Men were skewered from all angles and torn apart. They could not touch these monsters of the deep as they moved as fast out of the water as they did in it. It was as if they swam through the air, so fluid was their movement. The captain proved his legend one more time as his cutlass slashed through the confusion and cut first the arm and then the head of one of the mer-people down. All this did though was to focus all of their attention upon him. Tridents pierced the captain from every angle, holding him steady in his anguish, and allowing for the mer-king to look him dead in the eye as he used his great trident to tear the captain from the right side of his waist to his left shoulder in one cruel move. The mer-king let the remains of the captain fall to the deck but took the cutlass in his cold hand with an evil smile.
With their great prize secured the mer-people left the rest of the crew and so too did the storm. The remaining crew aboard the ship watched as the swirling chaos of wind, water, lightning, beasts, and gods carried on a path of destruction across the ocean. They were bloodied and beaten. They had no idea where they now were, and as for the other ships, well, if they had barely made it through that alive then the others had surely perished. Even if the other crews were still sailing it did not matter. They had a new mission now. The mer-people had slain their captain, had taken his cutlass, and fled, hiding behind an unnatural maelstrom and dark gods from the deep. The crew agreed this would not be enough to protect them.
While they were still bandaging themselves and repairing their ship they set off in pursuit of the storm not wanting to waste a moment. There was a hunger in the eyes of the men now. They were ravenous for retribution, for the return of the cutlass, and for the adventure. All they could think of were the wild sights they had seen in the storm, the creatures no other man had ever seen, colossal beings no other man could imagine. The mer-people! They were their greatest enemy yet and had tested them, bested them, like no other foe had. The crew would follow them to the ends of the oceans, to the bottom of the sea.
Some force propelled the ship across the sea to the storm. They hurtled over waves and crashed through others with reckless abandon. Once again the storm filled the horizon and soon after they tore straight into it again. The storm was feeding on the ocean and anything else in its path. They could feel it had grown in strength. Wind whipped across their faces. Waves grew to ridiculous heights and fell like an avalanche. All around them they could see the shadows of unfathomable beings and they could hear the cacophony of their battles. As they delved further into the storm they saw another fleet of ships that had been captured by the storm. Some had been upturned or ripped apart by the storm or the great beasts, a few were still holding on. The crew of the ship saw that they were battling with the inhuman monsters the storm had scooped up. There they were! The mer-people! Their revenge was at hand.
The ship flew into the fray. This time it was they who caught the mer-people off guard, and they killed many of them before they knew what was happening. All too quickly the mer-people rallied and returned with their own slaughter.
Whatever darkness had raised the storm and the creatures of the deep clearly sought to protect them. Once again the storm continued on and left the ship behind. The crew gathered themselves again. From the other ships that had been attacked they found a few stout warriors who also desired revenge against the mer-people. Replenished, the ship set off after the growing storm, the mer-people, and the cutlass.
So it went for days that were not counted. The ship caught up with the storm in strange seas. The crew did battle with the mer-people and felled some of their number. Always though more of their brethren were slain at the cruel tridents of the mer-people, their leering faces offering no mercy, their scaled tails quivering with excitement at the violence.
They battled far and wide as the storm continued unimpeded. They fought across ships the like of which they had never seen before that were caught in the maelstrom, gathering more sailors hungry for the blood of the mer-people to replace their fallen. The storm took entire islands into its maw, and they fought as trees, huts, entire towns were tossed around them. They fought as more gods of the ocean rose up out of the deep into the madness that was all around them. They witnessed the destruction of several of these gods, their immense bodies crashing down, causing tsunamis that wrecked fleets and sank islands below the brine.
On and on the storm raged, and always within it the wars between gods, men, and monsters. Though the ship was constantly replenished with men and women seeking revenge against the mer-people, the number of those who set out at the beginning of our tale ever dwindled. There came a time when there was but one left who had seen the cutlass not in the hand of the mer-king but wielded mightily by the fallen captain. He was now the captain of this ship, with a ragtag crew made up those who had lost their ships and crews to the storm and those within. Despite their varied origins the crew of the ship still possessed that incessant desire for adventure, to fill whatever few moments of life they had with glorious purpose. The only difference was that now this wild ambition had been honed by revenge. For them the cutlass was also a symbol: one of death. It had been used to slay many of their fellows, and they would see it taken from the dead hand of the mer-king.
Once more the ship caught up with the storm, once more the world around them descended into madness, once more the battle against the mer-people commenced. By now they were all well educated in the art of killing those hateful beings. It was dangerous work even still and many fell on both sides.
The new captain, the last remnant of our original crew was wily now and held back from the fray. He would only have the mer-king himself. It was time to make an end of this. The captain stood at the wheel of the ship steering through the storm expertly. After spending so much time within the storm it felt more natural than a calm sea. They came over yet another great wave and there was the mer-king, he too was holding back, waiting for the ship to come to him.
The captain steered the ship right down the mer-king’s throat. The old foes saw in each the desire to finish the fight and were equally happy to oblige. They clashed with fury tempered with respect. While all around them gods fought battles that had lasted eons for reasons beyond mortal comprehension, they fought over a cutlass, and yet it seemed almost a dance. As they twisted and turned, and whirled faster, almost mirroring the storm they seemed to reach a crescendo and then finished as the captain pierced the heart of the mer-king with his sword. As the life left the great body the cutlass fell from his hand, landing in front of the wheel of the ship, almost exactly where its rightful owner had been slain. The new captain picked up the cutlass, holding it aloft for his crew of misbegotten miscreants to see and realise they were victorious. The mer-people saw this too and saw their king had fallen. In despair they claimed their king’s body and fled back into the deep.
The storm carried on, leaving the crew behind, but this time they did not follow, and watched as it disappeared over the horizon. In the calm seas there was a feeling of emptiness. The purpose that had driven them all for so long was now gone. What would come next? The captain still gazing upon the cutlass saw in it his reflection and knew what was next for him. He charted a course, and they were on their way.
Several days later they came upon the port the captain had left a long time ago. As they came in the captain told his crew he would be leaving them here. The ship was theirs now to do with as they pleased. All he asked was that they let him take the cutlass with him. Though confused and saddened none of them objected. Standing at the top of the gangway he told them the ship was built for adventure and though it had seen many it would always hunger for more. Should they ever find their way back to this port again they were to tell him about those adventures and help keep their legends alive.
It was an old man that disembarked the ship, wrinkled and grey, cutlass in hand. He had seen a lifetime of adventure which he would never have imagined. He had seen much along the way and lost many. But he would never forget them, and though he may live his remaining years in peace, and though the cutlass would no longer be wielded in battle, but would rest above a warm hearth, he would make sure the legend of him, his crew, and the cutlass, would live on.
storiesbyadam 