The Forest, by Ben Greenfield - Chapter 14: "The Sea"

Just as the flying machine swooped several hundred feet in a matter of mere seconds away from the cliff, Tink expertly maneuvered it into a circular glide back towards the island and back towards the meadow. With gusts of air blasting into his ears and repeatedly whipping his eyelashes open and shut, Taran felt Tink shove a glass bottle forcefully into his hands and shout something completely inaudible. Taran looked down at the glass bottle in his hands. It was dark brown and inside he could see a tattered piece of paper rolled up. He leaned towards Tink's pointed ears, getting as close as he could to the back of the elf's head, and bellowed over the wind. What?

Throw it in, my boy. Into the meadow.

Terran leaned over the left side of the cockpit and looked down at streaks of green as the meadow rushed past underneath them in a dizzying swirl of color. He took the glass bottle and hurled it over the edge, then tried to watch it as it tumbled towards the grass below. Before he could see if it landed in the meadow or shattered on the rocks of the cliff, the nose of the flying machine turned sharply up and he fell forcefully backwards into River's body, then crunched sharply forwards into Tink's bony back. As they leveled out and began to turn back towards the sea, he winced in pain as both his face and his neck strained from snapping back and forth, then squeezed Tink's shoulder and shouted, the din of the flying machine. What was that? Tink grinned mischievously, keeping his gaze focused forward on their path out and over the sea.

Just a bit of a brainstorm. My rough sketch is for an oak hole boat worthy of burying an entire tribe of Catawan across the sea.

As Terran wondered why an entire tribe of Catawan would ever desire to be seaworthy, he felt river tugging on the back of his hoodie. He awkwardly shifted his weight and looked back. River pointed to their right, where jagged V shapes of pink footed geese flew eastwards in a long swooping glide, darting through the wisps of filmy clouds. Terran nodded and smiled, wondering if the birds thought they were family, then leaned over the edge of the cockpit and looked down at the rocky stacks lining the coast of Arctan and projecting from the sea. The rocks seemed frosted with icing sugar and dotted with a teeming white mass of movement. He realized they were birds too. White crowds of sea birds beyond the rocks, roll after roll of a dark blue carpet of water billowed as far as he could see, each roll capped with a touch of milky foam. The 12 miles of water between them. And Goaald simply looked as though it were an endless eternity of blue carpet. He looked behind. Arctan was already fading fast into the distance. The first slight, unexpected jolt of the flying machine was simply more of a gentle nudge to the left. It didn't feel as though something was wrong, but as if Tink had perhaps tugged a bit too forcefully on the steering handles. The second jolt was more turbulent, as though an invisible pocket of air had slammed into the nose of the machine and shoved it forcefully back to the right. Terran felt rivers grip tighten around his torso as his brother tried to keep from tumbling out of the cockpit. I stood behind Terran with my arms wrapped around his chest. It was strange and a little scary to be up in the sky with the birds, but at the same time, it felt new and exciting and dangerous. When the flying machine began thumping up and down, I knew something must be wrong. Over Terran's shoulder, I could see Tink's face. He didn't say anything, but he looked very worried and instantly started leaning with his whole body from side to side as he pulled on the steering handles with white knuckles. When I looked down, I saw that the water was suddenly getting much, much closer. It didn't feel like we were falling that quickly out of the sky, but rather as if the ocean was rising up to meet us like a big blue monster about to swallow a tiny bug. Then the nose of the flying machine began to dip forward at a sharp angle towards the ocean. I could hear Taran screaming and struggling to get out of my arms, but I felt like the only way I could stay inside the cockpit was to keep holding him, so I gripped him even harder. I saw Tink let go of the handles and began climbing up towards the big balloon above us, which seemed to have lost all its air. Maybe that's why we weren't floating in the sky anymore. He was climbing like a spider and shouting something, but I couldn't hear him. The wind was too loud. I tried to watch his lips.

Ouch.

Ow. Down. He was telling us to get down. I let go of Terran, grabbed my head, and curled up in a ball down in the bottom of the cockpit, pulling my chin in towards the top of my chest, just like I'd seen children do on television under their desk when a tornado or an earthquake or a bomb was coming. And just like father had told me to do if I was ever on a big airplane that was crashing, Everything was shaking hard. My teeth kept slamming together. Taran's back was smashing up against my nose. And then his whole body was on top of me. I could hear his muffled screaming through his chest. Or maybe it was my screaming. Tink was still dangling above us. He was screaming too. Then we hit a blanket. A blanket of blue, as cold and as hard as concrete.

A lone seabird dove from the sky and landed on a splintered plank of wood drifting on the surface of the ocean. Attached to the wood were a few dark brown leather straps tangled up in a gray wet hoodie. A tattered shoe was floating nearby. The bird pecked twice at the wood, then fluttered off towards the distant rocks of Arctan. There was silence and a moment later, just near where the bird had landed, bubbles began to appear. The water around the bubble swirled slightly, then the surface of the water broke open as a head covered in wet blond hair burst through, followed by shoulders, arms and hands flailing violently towards the wooden plank. The soaked, gasping body shook and shuddered for a moment as it desperately held the plank, spitting flecks of water and vomit from its gaping jaws. Then, just as violently, another body burst from the water, clinging to a piece of wooden wreckage that had floated towards the surface. More deep throated coughing, sputtering, sopping blond hair. And finally a third body emerged, this one larger than the other two, tangled in a long wet green cloak, hacking, spitting, gasping. Then, for a very long time, there was simply the splashing of the ocean, the low pitched rumble and rolling of the waves, and more violent coughing. Can we swim back to Arctan? Terrance struggled to regain his hold on the piece of wreckage that they had lashed together with several large leather straps to an assortment of other planks that had floated to the surface. It had been nearly an hour since they'd surfaced, and the back of his throat still stung from coughing in the briny sea water, certainly.

And then you would die a horrible concussed death as the current whipped you into the razor sharp rock outcroppings around the coast.

Tink spit a mouthful of seawater.

Even the steel hold boats can barely make it. Why do you think I chose to fly in?

River sniffed loudly, salty gobs of mucus stringing from both his nostrils. Because that turned out to be much safer. For the first time since Terran could remember, Tink said nothing and simply stared out over the water. Terran wondered about the sea monsters and whether three tiny bodies floating in the ocean were enough meat to attract a hungry beast of the ocean. Already he felt nauseous and dizzy. Tink, how long can we float like this?

How long if we're lucky we drift nearly 12 full miles to Goaald.

Tink stared west. Flowers far out into the impossibly far ocean. A swell of ocean caught him in the mouth and he spit loudly.

If unlucky, we last a day or two before a sea monster uses us to pick the plankton from its teeth. And if we're very lucky?

Tern pulled himself along the slippery plank closer to Tink. It was hard to hear the elf talking over the splashing of the ocean waves. If we're very lucky, what?

We get discovered by a seafarer's boat?

Seafarer?

Daring rebels that live in hundred foot long wooden boats in the ocean with no home on the mainland. They avoid paying taxes. They call no man crown. They eat fish and curse loudly. Most of the seafarer men die horrible deaths before they've grown hair above their lips. And most of the women quit the ships and earn their living roaming the seaport pubs.

River, now shivering, stared with bloodshot eyes towards the invisible mainland of Goaald, then back towards the treacherous rocks of Arctan, now fading into the distance. How likely is it they have seafarer boats close to here?

Who knows?

They're like ghosts.

They slip in and out of the ports before the Crown's constables know they're there. Now with the Shaman and the Cithran ravaging the land, they're even less frequently seen. Seems they'd rather face the sea monsters than the shamans.

River kept staring out into the ocean. What do their boats look like?

Small and somewhat short. Tall masts with a handful of sails. Cabins on deck made of half rotting slimy wood. Violent, bloodthirsty, intimidating paint on the hulls. Dozens of long javelins and harpoons. To catch fish and fight sea monsters.

Something like that. River hoisted his body a little higher onto his plank of wood and pointed far off to their left. Terran leaned forward, trying over the awkward dancing motion of the waves to see what river was looking at. All he could see was the faint outline of a lone bare tree like object bobbing up and down nearly a mile away. It's just a tree.

Much more likely a tree attached to a seafarer ship.

Young Terran, Tink began waving his arms.

Let's take our chances, boys. Ahoy. Ahoy.

Terran swallowed nervously. The seawater stung the back of his throat. His stomach was sour from hunger, from swallowing large gulps of brackish water, and from the constant churning of the waves. The by Tink's description, seafarers sounded very much like pirates, and he'd never heard much good about pirates, but the ocean was now seeming much worse. He looked at river, whose face was growing white, and wondered if his own face looked as pale and as sickly. He wondered if their tiny bodies, floating amidst the wreckage of the flying machine, would even be seen by the seafarers. And then he thought of the sea monsters and his body shredded from limb to limb by the razor sharp teeth of something far more fierce than a shark. His voice sounded weak and quiet in his own ears and it seemed silly to be shouting at a ship so far away. But he raised his hands like Tink, and began waving towards the ship. Help. We're here.

Help.

For a long time, the distant speck of the ship didn't seem to be getting closer or farther. Over the next hour, Terran's voice slowly became more hoarse. Eventually river just stopped shouting and simply lay draped of the floating wreckage, shivering and growing even more pale in the face. By now Tink had removed his green cloak and was tirelessly twirling it in the air, still shouting odd words as his voice slowly faded.

Hey hip ho. Ahoy. Hip hip ahoo.

Suddenly river cocked his head and lifted it from the wood. You hear that? Tink became quiet. Terran held his breath and strained to hear over the drone of the ocean. There again. River straightened up and stared straight towards the ship, which appeared to have moved slightly closer. It sounded like a whistle. This time Terran heard it.

Whistle.

Tink, what is it?

A signal.

The elf slapped and splashed one hand in the wet plank of wood. He clung to, grinned, and whispered hoarsely.

I do believe we've been spotted, boys.

Over the next half hour, as the speck grew closer, Terran realized a hundred foot boat was much larger than he'd first imagined. This was no quaint fishing boat. An enormous black sail hung from the thick main master that projected nearly 50ft into the sky, with shrouds of netting draped from either side of the mast and a large crow's nest near the top. Ahead of the main mast was a slightly shorter foremast towards the bow of the ship and behind the main mast, towards the stern of the ship, a cabin with a rearmast towering over it. There were crimson streaks painted like graffiti back and forth along the side of the ship, which as the ship moved even closer, Terran realized were meant to signify bloody claw marks. Towards the front of the hole, a series of letters, also scrawled in crimson, spelled out a five letter word that Terran could now clearly read Devil. Now he could see the shadowy outline of human figures darting back and forth along the deck, pointing and waving towards them, some shaking javelins above their heads and others climbing up towards the crow's nest for a better look. In addition to the flute like whistling sounds the seafarer seemed to be using to signal their impending approach, he could now hear voices, shouts and gruff yelling. Then, with one more giant rolling motion of the waves, this boat was suddenly upon them, close enough to swim to and also close enough to simply run them over and dash them to pieces. River began clenching and unclenching his fists nervously.

Do we swim?

Terran waved him aside.

Towards it or away from it? We shall soon find out.

He cupped both hands to his mouth and shouted towards the seafarers.

Devil ahoy. Will you save us?

The deck grew silent. Terran could count perhaps a dozen faces, nearly all bearded, each armed with javelins, looking out towards them. A few other men hung casually from the netting around the masts, daggers in their teeth and clubs at their side. In the center of the crowd was a tall skinny man dressed all in black with a long gray beard and a slightly cocked three cornered cap pulled down low over his eyes. He leaned over the deck and glared at them for a moment, then turned around and casually walked away, disappearing below deck, the ship rolled up and down in the ocean. For another moment nobody made a sound. Then the man appeared again and with a whoosh and a loud wet thud threw a ladder over the edge of the deck and bellowed in a low.

Gravelly voice, permission to bard ye drownin fools.