The sea didn’t just turn rough. It decided we were interesting.
The water folded in on itself and dragged the ship sideways. Out of it rose another vessel, rotting and crewed by the sort of men who don’t breathe anymore. They boarded before I had time to plan anything clever.
I tried Heat Metal. It felt like a smart idea. It was not especially impressive in practice. The fight was too chaotic, the deck too slick, and nothing stayed still long enough to regret being warmed up.
Bawbaggins spent most of the battle being aggressively assaulted by a parrot. A real one. It was small, furious, and deeply committed to ruining his day. Between the bird and the pirates, he barely had a moment to stand upright.
At some point something came for me. I saw it too late. Gloom didn’t.
He stepped in front of it without thinking.
The hit should have been mine. He took it, went down hard, and for a moment I thought that was it. The noise of the fight faded in my ears and all I could see was him on the deck.
I dropped everything and reached for him. The warmth came easily. Easier than the fire ever does. I pressed my hand to him and told him, very clearly, that he was not allowed to die here.
He listened.
He came back breathing and furious, which felt correct.
The whirlpool kept pulling. Something enormous moved beneath us, circling. At one point I genuinely believed I could calm it. I grabbed a barrel of Chris’s “Chrisgles” and threw it toward the water, thinking perhaps even sea monsters appreciate well-seasoned potato slices.
The barrel popped open spectacularly.
The monster did not stop.
Chris and most of his crew had taken shelter below deck by then. I can’t blame them. But eventually someone had to remind them that ships do not steer themselves. We shouted. We insisted. We may have threatened.
They turned the wheel.
We didn’t kill the thing in the water. We didn’t defeat the sea. We angled the ship hard and sailed away from it while it churned behind us. The whirlpool loosened as we pulled free, not because we conquered it, but because we escaped it.
When it was over, no one cheered.
Gloom stood beside me like nothing unusual had happened. He didn’t mention stepping in front of that blow. I didn’t thank him properly either. I think we both understood.
I don’t know if that’s bravery or stubbornness.
I miss you.
I miss ground that stays where it’s put.
I miss problems that can be solved instead of outsailed.
Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.