Song of the Dromannion

Day Seventy-seven

2007-04-18T02:11:00.000-07:00

The second day of our harbouring in Amen'wraith has been one of great activity and some incredible discoveries. At first light I was awakened by Ahlek, and together with Stump and others of the Assistants we organised ourselves for our day ashore. As with the other parties that have gone before, we have a set number of tasks to perform, and a very tight schedule that must be kept to. For us this day shall be devoted solely to the finding of the herbs, fungi, and other roots and earths needed for our craft. Of all the supplies we require it is these that are the hardest to procure, and so we will spend our day in this pursuit.

By first light our party was ashore. Already the beach was crowded, many of the gatherers camping in behind the dunes, taking advantage of the opportunity to sleep on dry land. By the time we were able to make it to shore there was already great activity as lifeboats and skiffs were being filled with the fruits of the previous day's scavenging. Together with Ahlek I made my way to the head of the beach and there found a well-trodden pathway into a broad stand of forest. We did not have to go far to find everything that we were looking for.

In the shadows of gigantic trees the two of us began the task of searching out what we needed. In the depths of the forest our surroundings were alive with activity. Birds sped through the shadows, their wings bright flashes of colour mixed with long lines of sunlight that pierced the canopy above, and everywhere there were insects, engaged in the endless movement of their short lives. The undergrowth was thick in places but within its growth we found much of what we needed. Fungi and aromatic herbs sprung from bark and root, special earths and humus proved attainable at the grasp of a hand. Carefully we did our work, filling our packs and the additional bags that we had brought with us. By midday we were almost finished, only one task remained.

The day had turned warm and with the light of a clear sky cutting through the branched canopy above we took the time to take lunch and enjoy, for a short while, the feeling of firm earth beneath us. Regardless of the misgivings I have felt about the convenient perfection of this island it was good to sit against a tree-trunk once again and feel the texture of dirt between my fingers. The smells and grit of the forest proved a potent balm for senses that had been too long saturated with the salt of the ocean. I can say that lunch tasted all the better for it.

While we had the time I talked with Ahlek on what we had experienced on the journey so far, and in that conversation came to know him better. Unlike most of the Assistants he is young, but very bright, and the owner of a dry wit that finds humour in the most unlikely of events. It surprised me greatly when he turned our conversation to the subject of the island and its bounty. As we talked he expressed his own opinion that it was a shame that we could not tarry longer here. Such was the vitality of Amen'wraith he proposed, that it would have made the perfect sanctuary for the Fleet, and a possible home for us all. But that was the problem, and it plagued him just as it unsettles me. Everything we need is no further than arms-length away and it had struck him that it was all too easy, too convenient for travellers as ourselves that had seen such hardship. For him it had the smell of bait, an enticement drawing us all into a trap. I could not help but agree.

With the midday meal finished we returned to the last task of the day. To the north of our position there had been found a small pool and cascade. Such a location provided the hope of finding a particular lichen that is in great demand as a curative for infected wounds. Of all our medical needs this was the one item that is most highly prized. According to the party that had found the pool on the previous day, it could be found a half hour's walk further within the forest.

As it happened it did not prove difficult to find the waters. The cascade fell from a plateau high above, and made such a noise that we heard it a long time before it came into view. On the cusp of a small rise the pond lay before us as a wide, shallow pool, bordered on most sides by the treeline of the forest, which emptied noisily into a fast running creek that flowed away to the south-west. Carefully we made our way to the base of the cascade, skirting the edges of the water as we looked for the tell-tale russet colouring of the lichen. At the base of the falling waters we found what we were looking for, and then spent a good hour removing small pieces of the lichen from its purchase between rocks and upon the cliff-face itself. We were well pleased with our efforts and after taking a moment to drink and clean ourselves turned to begin our trek back to the beach.

Only then did Ahlek Norahm see the small figures that were watching us. Putting out his arm he brought me to a halt and then crouched upon the trail, pointing into the trees ahead of us. I immediately saw what he was gesturing at and dropped to one knee as well. Within the shadows of the forest stood dozens of small figures, no taller than my outstretched arm, but definitely human-like in form although very thin and gangled in appearance. For a few moments we waited, watching as the figures stood motionless in the undergrowth before disappearing back into the forest's depths. I can record here that my pulse was pounding in my ears as we watched them. I do not know what they were, nor whether they could have meant us any harm, but I was glad when they retreated back into the shadows.

By the time of this encounter it was already mid-afternoon, and being mindful of our need to return to the beach, we hurried on our way. With the possibility of the creatures at our backs we did not stop to enjoy the beauty of the forest. After our brief encounter we concentrated instead on every shadowed patch of undergrowth or tree-limb that overhung our path. Neither of us could sense if there was danger to be found here, and in the absence of such knowledge we moved all the quicker, our legs propelling us swiftly on our way. I do not know about Ahlek but I held my harvesting knife all the tighter as we ran for the beaches.

It took us little time to return to the shoreline. Sweating from the exertion we lumbered out of the forest to find the beach a hive of activity and industry. Dozens of boats lined the water's edge and for the entire length of the sands there could be seen cargo being loaded and the passengers from many ships enjoying the pleasures of a few hours ashore. At the very end of the beach however, there had begun a much more serious undertaking. Upon heavy trestles and bracings the long, thin structures of three new masts were taking shape. Trees had been selected and felled on the preceding afternoon and now ships-carpenters were busy with the difficult task of cutting and forming the natural bends and knotting of the raw timber. Under other circumstances it was a job that would take considerably longer than the three days we have at our disposal, but only the forming of the masts is to be undertaken on the island, everything else is to be done aboard ship once we have cleared the entrance to the harbour and have found ourselves again in open waters.

Within this hive of activity myself and Ahlek began the search for those Healers that were ashore. We had all been given our specific tasks to perform, and with the conclusion of our own mission it was necessary for us to find the others and await the first lifeboat back to the Dromannion. It proved to be a straightforward endeavour. Upon an area of flat sands in behind the first line of dunes the Healer Faren had raised a small pavilion to cater for any medical needs that might arise whilst we were ashore. There we found Faren himself and a number of Healers from other vessels in the Fleet. Most of those who had been sent out into the forests had not yet returned, so both myself and Ahlek took the opportunity to rest in the shade of the spreading canvass and recount to the Healers what we had encountered in the depths of the forest. To my surprise the creatures were already known to Faren. Hunters had found sign of them in the early morning but they had avoided all attempts at contact. The Maturi calls them Morg, an old name for forest-spirits that are said to inhabit the far eastern regions of the Haarn Kingdoms. By his telling such spirits can be malicious creatures but here they have harmed no-one and instead have kept a discrete distance. All who now venture into the forests have been told to leave them alone.

With our story told we settled back to await the return of the other Assistants. For a time we rested and then began the unavoidable work of preparing and packing our herbs and earths for transport back to the Dromannion. Faren was particularly pleased with the lichen and questioned us at length about where we found it, and if there was any that remained to be collected. It was as we went about our task that I overheard the Healers discussing a turn of events for which I had no previous knowledge.

Whilst we had been out in the depths of the nearby forest a small party of dwarvendim had left the beaches, their mission to ascend the highest of the summits that rested in the island's interior, their goal the snow-capped peak of Troga'hem. The reason for such a mission seemed unknown to all who now spoke of it, but the nature of the party that had left the safety of the beaches was most unusual. Of the men that had departed two were known to me, one being the Maturi Hedj and another, a young man known to his dwarvendim brethren as the Shadar Len. The remaining four members of the group seemed to be carriers, hefting the gear that would be needed for the Maturi and Shadar to make an ascent of the peak. From what I have observed over the past weeks it is these two men that provide the leadership of the dwarvendim.

To leave the hurried activity of the beaches does not appear wise, but it is not for me to judge. Even the casual conversations of the Healers have left no doubt that their thoughts are divided on what it might mean. It seems however that the entire enterprise has the full backing of the Fleet Captain. If this is so then there must be meaning to it, and no doubt we will all find out what its purpose is later. It is curious though.

By the hour before nightfall all the parties had returned to the beaches, and loaded with the bounty of Amen'wraith we were ferried quickly back to the Dromannion. Many of the Fleet's number have decided to stay ashore on this last night. The long swathe of the beach is lit brightly with the many fires and lamps of those wishing to make the most of the only piece of firm ground that might be found for many months. Although it would be my wish to spend the night ashore it is something that our duties cannot allow. The supplies need unpacking and proper storage. It is a job that must be done quickly and will take most of the evening to complete. Hopefully there will be time in the early morning to return to the island one last time.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Seventy-six

2007-04-13T03:36:00.000-07:00

The night has passed slowly with the anticipation of our landfall, and beneath the rising suns of morning the Dromannion is at full sail, making steadily for the entrance to a great harbour that lies ahead. We have come far to reach this point in our journey and what stands before us fills our hearts with hope. The islands of Laerion have been described by the Maturi as verdant islands in a wide sea, but what we have discovered exceeds all expectations.

In the twilight of the previous day the Fleet met the southern-most tip of the Laerion islands and in doing so quickly moved northwards. According to the dwarvendim the main island of this archipelago, known to Caren'thal the Younger as Amen'wraith, lay only a dozen leagues to the north. Upon Amen'wraith, it is said, we will find safe harbour and a bounty of food and fresh water, enough to replenish our stores and spare us from any further rationing on our voyage westwards.

With this great boon ahead we sailed north until shallow waters and the gloom of a moonless night forced us to furl sail and drop anchor. It was at first light that we again returned to our course and by first bell of morning the island of Amen'wraith loomed before us. For the best view of the approaching land I found a position high on the foredeck balustrade. Both Stump and Ahlek Norahm were beside me. Amongst the gathering crowd we were but a few white robed men in a crush of people as we all strained for our first views of landfall.

In truth I can say that I am not sure what I was actually expecting. A large number of people crowded upon the different decks of the Dromannion, watching as we skirted the southern edge of the island, looking for the safe harbour described by the Maturi Hedj. As was foretold the island is substantial, consisting of long sand beaches, wide plains of trees and grasses and a series of mountain summits that rise into the clouds some distance inland. I am unsure as to its actual size but it must extend for at least fifteen leagues from north to south and three from east to west. On the heaving deck of the Dromannion we all stood silent, watching as the island slid by, but it was not the size of island that enthralled us.

Amen'wraith is a paradise, an answer to the hopes of a Fleet that has spent too many weeks at sea. Never have I seen grasses so verdant, or snow-capped mountains so crisp and white in the sunlight. The beaches glow yellow in the light of morning and the forests are a vision of unrestrained vitality. At every turn can be found flocks of birds gliding upon the winds, or herds of great beasts roaming the plains. There is nothing about the island that I can see as having been disturbed by the hands of men. It is as pristine a place as could be found in this world, yet there are even greater wonders to be found here and the greatest of these stands at the entrance to the harbour.

Given the extraordinary state of the island's plant and animal life, it should not have been a surprise that the best of its harbours lay as a quiet tranquil haven. Formed as a wide circle encompassed by two huge headlands, its entrance beckons as a narrow gateway that opens into a cove of quiet water. Straddling both of these headlands lay a huge natural archway of stone that stretches overhead, blocking out the suns as we sailed carefully through its gigantic arch. At the base of each root of the arch stands a huge spire of stone, roughly formed but immense in stature. Each has the appearance of great age, weathered and broken by the forces of time and exposure.

To the western edge of this natural harbour spreads a wide arc of sand-lined beaches and a series of shear cliffs that line the harbour's headlands to the north and south. The beaches are to be our landing points and with the winds gusting from the east it did not take long for the entire Fleet to sail into the huge harbour. By midday every vessel of our number was at anchor and the serious business of our stay commenced.

Much has been planned for, but our time here is limited by the warnings given by the Maturi. With the Fleet arrayed across the sheltered bay the first of many small boats went ashore, and from that point a large encampment has grown quickly upon the sand-beaches. As we have only three days it has been decided that we shall work day and night at the tasks we have given ourselves. Hunters and gathering parties have already begun to delve into the forests to the west and a number of large trees have been selected for cutting. I have been scheduled to go ashore at first light tomorrow with the other Assistants and I am looking forward to the chance of standing upon dry ground once again.

Although others have priority on this first day of our stay here, and the duties of my craft have not lessened as I wait for my time ashore, there has been opportunities enough to look out over the island and consider its unusual nature. Much has been uncovered by the initial parties that have made their way into the island's hinterland. All reports that have made their way back tell of a land bursting with life, full of the provender needed for us to continue our voyage. There seems no aspect of this island that can be construed as ill-meant, and in that very fact I have a growing feeling that everything is somehow too perfect, too accessable for our needs. After the hardships of our voyage it all seems to good to be true.

As I write this I feel uncomfortable for I do not wish to appear ungrateful or mean-spirited. The island is indeed a paradise that seems tailor-made for the provision of everything that we might need to continue our voyage. There is something though in the abundance of its gifts that has me wondering if it might not be too convenient. I cannot help but make mention of the feeling that somewhere beneath the island's rich surface there lies a darker aspect, one that will rise to tax a full measure in payment for what we might take from it. The Maturi Hedj's warning regarding the spirits of this place sits in the back of my mind, and in truth I do not know whether my unease is in consequence of that warning, or whether it has its origins at a far deeper level.

I can say that such concerns are not mine alone. The Healer Faren and others have raised the question as to whether we should be taking anything from this land except that which can be plucked from the trees, or hunted upon the wide plains. Faren has cautioned that to take trees or to damage the island in anyway seems contrary to its pristine status, an affront to the gifts that it can bestow to us if we treat it kindly. Stump and the Maturi have been just as insistent, saying that we have a free rein to take what we need for our voyage, but that we should be tempered by respect for the untouched nature of the land. In their minds we tread in paradise at our peril. I have little doubt that great benefit can be gained from our stay here but we need to be careful. There is something here, I know it.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Seventy-five

2007-04-04T03:41:00.000-07:00

At first light this morning the cry arose that we have been waiting for. To the north can be seen a tell-tale darkening against the horizon. It is mountains capped with cloud, and there can be no doubt that we have found the islands we have been looking for. If the map of the Maturi Hedj is correct we will find a chain of islands that extend some twenty-five leagues northwards. With the land clearly visible Captain Duschet has begun organising for the parties that shall go ashore. Myself and Stump are to be allocated to one such party, our task the collection of herbs and roots for the Surgery. It is to be a busy time, and one that has been set very definite bounds.

As soon as the watch gave word of the sighting of land the Captain and the Maturi Hedj called all the officers together. It has been determined that we may only spend three days roaming the islands, finding the provisions we require. It seems that Laerion is a paradise but one that harbours its own secrets. From the writings of Caren'thal the Younger the Maturi has determined that there are spirits that rest deep within its fertile soils, and these beings do not take to visitors kindly. Luckily the writings of Caren'thal tell that the spirits rest deep and take time to awaken. Three days shall be our limit then we will be unable to return. We may take advantage of any harbours we find but our stay ashore cannot extend beyond this limit.

It is strange to consider the idea that we must take into account the possibility of elemental spirits in modern times such as these, but the Maturi has explained that as Caren'thal the Younger has made reference to them, then we must take them as being real. Excitement grows amongst us as the islands approach. Faren has been told that by the end of this seventy-fifth day we shall make landfall.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Seventy-three

2007-04-02T03:44:00.000-07:00

Today has seen the return of the behemoth and it has been a day of violence and death. It was at the striking of the last bell before midday that the vast creature rose from the depths and took up station in the midst of the Fleet. The seas were rough and a stiff wind was blowing across the line of our path to the north. In the swell and spray the creature seemed oblivious to our presence, content to rise and fall upon the surface of the dark waters. Many of our number came to watch the display and marvel at the size of the beast. Its smooth dark-grey body slipped in and out of the water with ease, maintaining a station in the centre of the Fleet.

As a precaution Captain Duschet ordered the Fleet to disperse, and called the bolt-crews once again to their stations, mindful of the possibility that the behemoth might decide to cause the same damage amongst us that it had caused to the dwarvendim. The ships of the Fleet had no time to find a safe distance before it did so.

As if on a whim the huge beast dived in the depths of the sea and then rose again at great speed. I do not believe it was a malicious act, more an expression of some great joy that it felt in its existence but for us the results were catastrophic. Out of the water it rose, its sleek dark body lifting high into the air before falling back upon the sea. It hit no ship on its descent but the force of its fall rose up a swell of spreading water that came at the nearest ships as a wall travelling at great speed. Without time to run or take hold those that were on deck watching the creature were hit with the full force of its breaching. From the vantage I held I could see what was coming and braced for the impact, those on the mid-deck were not so fortunate. The Dromannion heeled deep into the water as the wave hit and most of the spectators on deck were swept into the sea.

Immediately those ships that were close began firing upon the behemoth. From the Dromannion and the Allahard a rain of explosive bolts descended onto the creature, detonating into its side, tearing large pieces of flesh from its body. In an attempt to drive the behemoth away we succeeded quickly in angering it further and again it descended into the depths. This time however it breached directly beneath a ship named the Tau'neru. In a sickening crash of splintering timbers the ship exploded, throwing its human contents into the waters. Again the Dromannion and the Allahard responded, throwing their bolts straight at the creature as it hit the water once again. This time they detonated against something sensitive. In a series of explosions the bolts found their marks and the creature writhed within the waves before disappearing. I cannot conceive that we have killed it, but it has been injured enough that it then left us alone.

We had only moments to recover from the shock of the assault. People were in the water and survivors of the Tau'neru clung desperately to anything that was still floating. In desperation those that could swim jumped over the side and quickly lifeboats were lowered into the heaving swell. Lookouts called directions as dozens of small boats tried to pick up those that had been swept overboard. It was a time of great anxiety but in the end those that could be saved were taken back aboard. Many however could not be recovered.

The behemoth has not come back.

Maps of the Voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Seventy-two

2007-03-17T05:28:00.000-07:00

Repairs to the Fleet have been completed and there is no sign of the Kalborea. After two days we can only assume that the ship was lost alongside its sister-ships in the violence of the storm. It grieves me to think that Captain Lovar and his crew have been taken by the sea but there is little that can be done about it. At midday flags were raised and in the growing breath of an easterly wind we have returned to the prosecution of our great adventure. It is noteworthy to record that no longer do we view ourselves as refugees. We may have begun this journey in flight, fleeing the suffocation of the Enemy, but with the new maps made by the Maturi Hedj, and the skilled cartography of Fanet Ari, our path into the west is now clear to all.

The Fleet still suffers from the effects of the last storm however. Many ships have been badly damaged, the Dromannion itself losing a mast and suffering a splintering of its starboard hull. Such damage has been repaired but we can now sail only as fast as the slowest amongst us and many ships have been reduced to a crawl, having lost sail and steering to the power of the Tempest. We have been assured that all damage can be repaired, it will however, require a quiet harbour and a new supply of long timbers. It is hoped that both can be found upon landfall with the islands of Laerion.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Seventy

2007-03-10T04:28:00.000-08:00

With little wind to speak of the Dromannion has become busy with repairs. We cannot replace the foremast and the Captain has ordered instead that the decks be cleared and all other repairs be made before we continue on our way. There is still no sign of the Kalborea, and with a slight hope that the scout might find its way back to Fleet it has been decided that we will remain at anchor for the next two days. There is much work to be done.

In the early hours of the afternoon a cry went up from the watch. Something had been sighted to the south. I was on the wheeldeck at the time with the Healer Faren when all eyes turned to see what had caused the outcry. To my surprise the sky to the south was filled with the dark forms of dozens of winged creatures. My blood ran cold when I realised they were the reptilian beasts of the Enemy.

In an instant the ship came to life. Captain Duschet shouted orders to his officers and once again the bolt-crews took their positions. Everybody who was not needed on deck was ordered below and with the ship bristling with weaponry we waited for the attack that I was sure would follow. It was then that the Maturi Hedj shouted to the bolt-crews to hold their fire. He had been on the foredeck and was desperately forcing his way past the piles of wreckage that still littered the decks as the crews readied their weapons. As he made his way to the wheeldeck there was such a look of concern on his face that Captain Duschet repeated the Maturi's order, standing down his crews and waited for the dwarvendim to reach his position. By the time he had folded his arms Paderian Hedj stood before him.

The Maturi pointed to the south and gave explanation for his outburst. The creatures were Kreel, beasts well known to the dwarvendim and not dangerous unless attacked. Those that we had confronted previously were under the dominion of the Enemy, and it was the dwarvendim's belief that that control ceased as soon as they left sight of land. In a loud voice he explained that it was the time of their seasonal migrations and we would be safe as long as we did not antagonise them.

It took some convincing but Duschet relented and confirmed the orders to restrain his bolt-crews. Quickly flags were raised and the message was sent to the rest of the Fleet. No ship fired upon the Kreel, and instead we watched as the huge creatures swung westwards and disappeared into the western horizon. When they had gone the bolt-crews were stood down, but extra lookouts were placed upon the two remaining masts.

After this had been done the Captain turned backed to the Maturi and asked how he knew of the Kreel, and for that matter where they had gained their knowledge of the way ahead. There was no anger in his questions, they were given up as simple requests and the Maturi Hedj responded with a nod of his head. Their knowledge, he answered openly, was gained from the journeys of a legendary dwarvendim explorer known to his people as Caren'thal the Younger. Long before their subjugation by the Haarn the dwarvendim were a seafaring people who colonised the far southern regions of the old world. The Grey Sea was their second home and many expeditions were sent out into the unknown waters of the west to explore what might lay beyond the horizon. Most came back without success but the first voyage of Caren'thal took his ship, the Longreach, straight to the lands of the New World. It was a journey that took years to complete, but he was on a voyage of exploration and did not return until he had mapped most of the coastline of the lands he had found.

To this the Maturi gave pause. Most of these maps had been lost in the wars that had led to their enslavement. One map however had been kept by the elders of his people, and that map clearly defined the path to the New World. Paderian Hedj had kept custody of that map until the destruction of the dwarvendim fleet at the hands of the Behemoth. Now there was only one repository of its ancient knowledge and that was the memories of the Maturi himself. Of their understanding of the Kreel, that was hard won by experience and the events of their flight from the coasts of the Haarn. He then restated his firm belief that the Kreel would only attack if provoked.

Captain Duschet took in all that the Maturi said and then made one small request. If the knowledge of their journey was only to be found in the memories of one man then it needed to be reproduced. He motioned to his second officer and sent him on his way. There was one aboard the Dromannion well-known for his mapmaking abilities, and with the Maturi's help the Captain asked that a map of their path ahead be made, the purpose to then have it copied for every other ship in the Fleet. Paderian Hedj bowed slightly and agreed. Such a map would be made.

With the Kreel gone and a clear idea now in the minds of all who might have doubted as to how the dwarvendim are so certain of their path to a New World, we have returned to our duties. The remainder of my day has been spent in the company of Faren and Stump. Together we have quantified what remains of our herbs and other remedies. It is not a job that I particularly like but we all must take turns doing so. By our reckoning we are still well-stocked but we have no idea how long our voyage will continue. If the opportunity arises it will be prudent to replenish our stores.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Sixty-nine

2007-02-16T03:48:00.000-08:00

A new day has dawned and the news from the rest of the Fleet has proven disastrous. In the tempest of the previous day we have lost four ships, three of which have been confirmed as sunk, and one, the Kalborea, that is missing; a total of two-hundred and eighteen souls aboard. All were small vessels, and all stood little chance against the power of storm. The loss of so many has swept away any of the hope which had lightened the days prior to this tragedy. Many have been lost and in the relative calm that has ensued the Fleet has come together once again to take account of damage and make note of individual losses. It is a black day for which I wish to make no further record.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Sixty-eight

2007-02-08T04:45:00.000-08:00

Storms and a cauldron sea confront the Dromannion at the break of this sixty-eighth day. The Fleet is spread wide and a gale races from the east, sending waves crashing over the decks of our ship. Above, the crew work frantically to keep us afloat, and below decks we struggle to lash down everything that might become loose in the storm's frantic rip and tear. Above the crash of thunder, and the pounding exhalations of icy rain that hammers against every exposed surface, I can hear the rigging of the ship straining under the forces being exerted upon its ratlines and tethers. The hull groans with the pitch and yaw of the ship, and from below I can hear a gurgling rush as seawater collects in the ballast-wells below our quarters. In this storm the ship is fighting for its life, struggling against the tremendous forces that are attempting to splinter its wood and crush its spirit. As is my lot I cannot take part in the fight. The Healer and his assistants must wait below in the surgery as the injured are brought for treatment, and as we listen to the grinding assault above it is apparent that many will be visiting us this day.

By mid-morning I have seen eight injured men brought into the surgery. It is with sadness that I record that three have been swept overboard, and a further two have died beneath fallen masts and yards. The foremast has collapsed and now trails in the ocean to the Dromannion's port, skewing the ship in the water, dragging it portside and dangerously out of balance. From reports coming down to us as the injured are carried in there is a great battle going on to free the mast and loose its trailing rigging. There are fears that we might capsize it this cannot be done and I shudder at the thought of all the souls that will be lost if they are not successful.

Midday has seen three more seriously injured crewman brought in. The surgery is a melee of screaming sailors and the frantic efforts we are making to help them. As we work the decking beneath us shudders as if the Dromannion is dying, but it has not given up yet. The foremast has been freed and in revenge the storm lingers, tearing at the ship as we run before its power. I can feel now however, that it is starting to weaken. I cannot imagine the damage that has been caused to the rest of the Fleet. I fear for small ships such as the Equinox. It will be a miracle if any of them survive this tempest.

It is only now, in the early evening that I can finish my account of this day. The storm has dissipated and left in its place a mire of drizzle and heavy mists. We can make no tally of the damage to any other vessels but the Dromannion has been hit hard. We have lost our foremast and the top yard of the mizzen-mast. It is amongst ourselves however, that we have taken the most grievous losses. Twelve men have been injured and six have been lost to the sea. The passengers of this vessel are all safe and for that I am thankful. It would seem that we have survived the power of the sea once again.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Sixty-seven

2007-02-04T01:04:00.000-08:00

This day has begun with the Fleet pounding its way through high seas and dark skies. Rain has plagued us for the last two days and the winds have turned to the north-east, slowing the Fleet and scattering us wide upon the surging waters. Still we crawl northwards, our goal the islands of Laerion. For the dwarvendim there is no doubt that these islands exist, but I can record here that not all aboard are convinced. We have been sailing north now for four days and as of yet there has been no sign of land. When asked of this the Maturi Hedj has responded that the Grey Sea is far wider than most would expect and that the distances to be travelled are great. It is the wide spread of the ocean that makes the landfall of Laerion so important. Without the replenishment that can be gained there none of the Fleet will make the distance that remains of our journey to the New World.

Whilst there are some who doubt the words of the dwarvendim, and I believe that is mainly a product of not knowing how they have come to possess such knowledge, it is apparent that the great majority of us aboard the Dromannion have taken great heart in their certainty. We have been at sea for many days and it has been weeks since we left the sight of land, but the idea of landfall ahead has lightened us all.

Although we wait for the call that signals that land has been sighted I find my own thoughts filled with the words of Faren, and a recurrence of the disastrous dream that has now given me more than one sleepless night. The spires of stone have become all too familiar and I am convinced that they are a portent of dangers to come. Compounding this has been the words of the Healer Faren regarding Stump. I believe now that only myself and Faren are aware of his true nature. It has proven a boon having him as an Assistant to the Healer. Many of our patients have recovered far quicker than they might otherwise have, and I have my suspicions that he is practising a subtle use of his powers in their healing.

Only one point of interest needs to be recorded for this day. One of the huge sea creatures has been spotted to the south of the Fleet. Although I cannot be sure, it has been reported that the behemoth moves parallel to our course, and for the moment seems to be following us.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Sixty-four

2007-02-01T04:34:00.000-08:00

On this sixty-fourth day of our journey the Fleet tracks north of north-west towards the islands of Laerion. The weather is clear, the sky a mottled veil of high cloud and scattered cumulus. We have been lucky since turning to the north, the winds have remained at our back, pushing us towards our chosen destination. Aboard the Dromannion I find a sense of hope growing amongst us. Somewhere out there is a new home, and it now seems possible that we may just reach it.

The Kraagers have begun to join the rest of the ship's company and are already proving of great value to our endeavours. Even though they stand just shoulder high to most men, they are immensely strong and have taken to the duties of the ship with great energy. After the labours of our journey we find now the focus of our endeavours changing. The Kraagers for the moment are the centre of our thoughts, and that change has brought with it the need for us to teach them our languages and try and break them free from the sense that they are still slaves. To this end the Maturi Hedj has proposed a change to the way we address the newcomers. From this day forward we are no longer to refer to them as Kraagers. In keeping with an old Adoracian custom we have given a new name to their number. From today they are to be addressed as Kaderas'dwarvendim, which translates roughly as "people of the small ships." Already this has been shortened to dwarvendim and the newcomers have eagerly accepted the change. Their drab uniforms have been replaced with new clothes from the holds and now they stand with us as equals. It seems only fair that after giving us such hope that we should repay them in this small way.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Sixty-three

2007-01-28T04:42:00.000-08:00

With the coming of first light myself , Stump and Faren have returned to the decks of the Dromannion. Two of our number remain aboard the Equinox to help with the tending of those Kraagers that are too ill to move, but the rest of us have been ordered back to the flagship. News travels fast aboard ship and even though we are separated by the wash of the sea the news we have just heard has spread quickly through the Fleet. The Maturi of the Kraagers has given our Captain a new direction to travel. Now we are to sail north, making for a group of islands Paderian Hedj calls the Laerion. There we will find food and fresh water springs enough to re-provision before heading west once again. It has been proven true that the newcomers do indeed have knowledge of the west and they tell of a great land that spreads to the edge of the world. It is a great distance to travel however, and finding the islands of Laerion is necessary before making for the deep ocean. Without such a landfall we will not have the supplies needed to reach the new world that awaits us.

The morning has been spent organising accommodation for the Kraagers evenly throughout the Fleet. The Maturi and few of his attendants have remained aboard the Dromannion but most of the rest of his people have found berths elsewhere. They have been eagerly accepted aboard their new homes and by midday the Fleet was ready to weigh anchor and continue. As before the scout ships have taken the lead but this time it is not to feel our way forward in unfamiliar territory. Each now has one of the Kraagers aboard, with knowledge of what lies ahead and a definite plan as to where we are headed.

With the Fleet once again under sail I find myself busy with the duties of my craft. Most of my time is spent below decks and most of the duties I perform are now done unsupervised. The Healer Faren has enough confidence in all of his Assistants to leave us mostly to ourselves. It is clear what we must do and with the ship crowded with evacuees there is little time available for anything other than the prosecution of our duties. There are still those moments when we can relax but they are proving less and less frequent.

In the evening of this day I was called to the Healer Faren's rooms. There had been a development with the NomDruse boy named Meriarrum and my first thoughts were that his condition had worsened. In the cramped quarters I found the Healer and the young boy himself, sitting in a chair and looking as if he was in some type of trouble. I greeted the Healer and he motioned for me to examine the child. To my amazement I found his skin condition had completely healed. There was no sign of scaring or of any of the other signs that would be associated with a blood disease. His mouth was healed and his lungs clear.

The Healer Faren told me that his remarkable recovery had occurred some time ago, having gone unnoticed in the general commotion of the finding of the Kraagers. Faren had no answer as to what might have instigated such a recovery. In his experience such afflictions took weeks to overcome and always resulted in scaring of the skin. The boy seemed to be in perfect health.

Once Meriarrum had been looked at Faren sent him back to his quarters. As soon as it was apparent that we would not be overheard the obvious questions were raised. Was Stump ever alone with the children? If he was, how could he have effected such a remarkable recovery? Faren was honest about the nature of the boy's disease. Without treatment he could have died, but that treatment had hardly started before the boy had been presented to Faren fully healed.

In answer to the Healer's questions I could only say that there was just the one time that the northerner would have been alone with the children, and that was during the last storm to hit the Fleet. Given the circumstances he could have done anything in the privacy of the children's quarters without any notice being given to it. I could not say what he did, I have not witnessed the exercise of that power myself, but I could not deny that there was a chance he was responsible.

Faren sat back into his chair and placed his hands together. In his eyes I could see he was deciding something, and he took only a moment to do it. Carefully he raised himself and stepped over to a small porthole that gave the room its only natural light. He looked out at the heaving ocean as he spoke, and what he had to say proved surprising to say the least.

Faren knew who Stump was. From the moment that Captain Rendell had described the attack on his ship to Duschet he had known the northerner's identity. The name Shalengael was familiar to him. Like myself he had said nothing at the time. He also could see the benefit in not exposing him, the power that he possessed far more valuable if left undisturbed. The man we knew as Stump was indeed known to his people as Shalengael, and it was a name rooted in the deepest history of Adoracia.

As the Dromannion pitched with the rise and fall of the sea Faren spoke softly as he explained what he knew of the northerner's past. The man Stump was no ordinary sailor. This was plainly evident by the miraculous powers that he could harness, and the knowledge of the world he possessed, but there was much more. The look on Faren's face left me in no doubt that he was serious, and the tale he told went far beyond anything I could have expected.

Long before the time of reason within which we now live, the peoples of Adoracia supplicated themselves to many gods. For most believers the gods were distant beings who affected the lives of mortal men from afar, influencing their lives through the subtle manipulation of circumstance. A few men believed differently. For them the fate of our existence could be affected directly through the manipulation of a power they called the Hev'duil, and it was available only to those who had come into personal contact with it. It was their belief that the wind held such power, and that there were certain places in the world where such power had a physical presence. Those who had an affinity with the wind could take the Hev'duil and give it form and direction. Such men were known to others as the Gaels.

In their time they were men of power, with an unlimited ability to change and manifest their will upon the world. To wield such power however, came with its own lethal difficulties. They were both feared and despised even though there was no evidence they did anything but good in the world. Those that feared them shunned them and forced them into the wilds of the north. Those that despised them coveted their power and planned for their destruction. One by one they were hunted down and murdered. Even with the power of the Hev'duil at their command they were not immune to treachery and deceit. With the passing of the last of their number the knowledge of their lore was lost. In time the world forgot them and the nature of their power diminished into legend. Till this time those that still remembered the Gaels thought them all dead. The Healer now had to entertain the possibility that one may have survived.

Faren moved back to his chair and pulled an old book from an uneven stack of documents that had been crammed onto his work-table. Within its cracked and broken contents the Healer searched for a particular page and pointed at a name scratched faintly into the parchment. There was no doubt it said "Shalengael" and it named him as one of the Gaels, a Master of the Lore of the Hev'duil.

With such information before me I could see no reason to keep what I knew secret any longer. I told Faren of my own suspicions and what I had seen within the ruins of Corin'kraag. I said also that like himself I had no wish to expose the man. Everything he had done to this time had only been in the best interests of the Fleet, and there was at least one man who would not be alive but for his intervention. The Healer took in everything I said and then offered the terms of a pact to be wrought between us. For the moment we will say nothing. There could be no other explanation except that Stump was indeed Shalengael, and with someone of such power aboard it would be better that he believed his secret secure. I left Faren to his thoughts and returned to my quarters. There was only one nagging doubt that haunted me as I made my way to my hammock. If the northerner was indeed Shalengael then he would have to be more than six hundred years old. It was a long time to be in hiding.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Sixty-two

2007-01-24T14:00:00.000-08:00

With the rescue of the Kraager survivors the number of souls aboard the Fleet has increased considerably. At this time the newcomers are spread widely amongst the different vessels that took part in the rescue but the largest number are to be found aboard the Equinox. I have stayed aboard with Faren and a few others of our craft to help with the tending of the injured and it has proven a difficult task. The newcomers do not seem disposed to making known what injuries they might have sustained in the attack against their fleet, and almost two days after we are still finding people with broken bones and deeper injuries that are only coming to light with the appearance of bruising and inflammation. The fact that almost none of the newcomers speak any of the common tongues of Adoracia has not helped. As has been required previously we have turned to Stump for translation of our questions and his skills have proven just as effective as before. The northerner's capacity as a polyglot seems to know few boundaries and Captain Rendell has kept him close as the remainder of the Fleet reorganises for the return to our journey.

There is one man amongst the newcomers who is of particular interest. Introduced as Paderian Hedj, he is the accepted leader of the newcomers. As Stump describes him he is a Maturi, or Elder of his people, and although he looks no more than middle-aged he shows all the signs of a man used to leadership. It has surprised us to find that the Maturi Hedj also has a great knowledge of language, and although I did not realise it at first, it was this man of all the other newcomers that Stump had seemed most interested in. The Maturi has spent much time aboard the Dromannion talking with Captain Duschet and the other officers of the Fleet. There are rumours moving through the Equinox that the newcomers have brought with them knowledge of the west. If this is true then we may all benefit from their rescue.

Whether the rumours prove true or not cannot detract from the curious nature of the newcomers. They have demonstrated remarkable recuperative powers, and even though it has been less than two days since their rescue most are strong enough to stand and take food on their own. Broken bones and deeper injuries will take time, but they have an indomitable spirit that has seen many of them up and about, helping with their less fortunate comrades.

I do not understand their language, even for the Haarn Kingdoms it sounds alien and guttural, but the people themselves, men, women and children all exhibit great optimism for their circumstances and it has proven heartening to all of us who may have doubts about where we are going. It is in my thoughts that if they truly do have knowledge of the west then we may indeed find a new home, one far enough from the Enemy to be safe.

It has been another busy day and none of us can say what the morrow might bring. In the dark of this evening I can feel the breath of a growing wind rising in the east, rocking the Dromannion at its anchor as the ship rises and falls in the sea's languid ebb. I have heard at the evening meal that we are again to continue our journey westwards with the coming morning. As I look out over a still sea I can only speculate on where our destiny may lie. After the events of the past days there is the possibility that other vessels may well be found out here. Could there be the ships of other Fleets that escaped the Enemy ahead of us? Or are we now alone?

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Sixty-one

2007-01-21T15:11:00.000-08:00

It is with a great sense of satisfaction that I recount the events of this past day. The recovery of the newcomers from the chill of the Grey Sea has changed the focus of all our activities for the foreseeable future. All are unwell but there are a few of their number who have begun to recount who they are, and how they were found in such distress. It is probably not surprising that Stump has provided most of the information that we now have on the newcomers. He has communicated freely with them, and in the course of these conversations has confirmed that these people have come from the Haarn. This is not surprising, there was much about the ships and debris that indicated they had originated from the Haarn Kingdoms but who they are has come as a surprise. Our new brethren are known to the Haarn as "Kraagers" or in a loose translation as stone slaves, people of the southern lands enslaved generations ago to mine and quarry the harsh regions of the south. It seems that they have quite a story to tell, and it is one that has given us all hope.

For generations the Kraagers had toiled under the subjugation of the Haarn, providing the fine stone used in the buildings and other works that we had seen so thoroughly destroyed by the Enemy. Such was the power of their masters that none could throw off the shackles of their servitude until the coming of our mutual foe. With the news that a great force was advancing upon them their guards left the Kraagers to their own fate and fled towards Corin'kraag. In the confusion that followed the slaves collected their families and made for the coast, their goal to take ships and escape into the Grey Sea. They knew that they would find no help from their Haarn masters so they made for a small fishing village south of Corin'kraag called Illeath. Here they found fishing trawls and other vessels that could be used to transport their number into the safety of the sea. All the townsfolk of Illeath had fled to the perceived safety of Corin'kraag and with a small fleet at anchor the Kraagers took the ships for their own. Unlike the Haarn, and for that matter ourselves, the Kraagers knew the nature of the Enemy. It had been foretold to them in a vision and they had acted on the belief that the Enemy was insurmountable, the only way to survive was to escape. The Grey Sea would be their refuge as well.

Although not skilled men of the sea they knew enough to raise anchor and head directly west. From what I have been able to tell they left Illeath only days before we first arrived in Corin'kraag and have been at sea since. Without proper provisions or supplies they have struggled westwards and had turned to the northwest only in the past few days. It was in the early hours of the day before our finding of their wrecked ships that they met the full force of a power they could not defend against.

Before daybreak a Behemoth rose out of the sea beneath their small ships and rolled slowly in the waves, much as we have seen in the midst of our own vessels. For the Kraagers however, this benign action began a series of events that led to the destruction of their fleet. As they watched a huge fin came down upon three of their number and in doing so the beast impaled itself upon one of the masts. In a fit of pain and anger the creature threw up its huge body and crashed down within the centre of the fleet in an attempt to dislodge the offending splinter. In seconds a dozen of the vessels were swamped in a huge wave of displaced water. The creature sank into the depths as the remaining Kraagers raced to the aid of their brethren. The Behemoth was not finished though. Enraged, it thrust its way upwards once again, breaching in the centre of the converging fleet, lifting its entire body out of the water. In one final assault it crashed back into the sea, and with its fall threw up a wall of water that swamped or overturned every remaining craft. Many died in those few minutes but many found refuge on wreckage and debris. For a day and a night the Kraagers remained in the water, waiting for the return of the huge creature. It did not come. Instead the masts of the Equinox presented themselves and rather than death they found salvation. To now that has been their story.

It is a tale that I record here, but it leaves open further questions that cannot be answered until they have recovered sufficiently. Stump has found one of their number who he has singled out for special attention. Why he has is unknown to me, but I believe all will become clear enough in time. For the moment we must spend our efforts giving them all the care they need. This means also for the moment that I will be remaining aboard the Equinox. I do know one thing though. These Kraagers may have been slaves of the Haarn but here upon the high seas they have no such status. Aboard these ships we are all free men and so it shall be for these souls as well.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Sixty

2007-01-18T13:45:00.000-08:00

At first light this morning warning flares burst high in the air above our scout ships. From the Equinox and the Usul long trails of red flame rose high into the morning air before extinguishing against the morning winds. I was above decks at the time. I have found it a good time to relax before the duties of the day, and with the early watch I saw the flares for myself as they arched away to the north. Captain Duschet was called immediately and the full armament of the Dromannion was brought to readiness. In such things I can play no part. The bolt-crews are well-practiced and in a flurry of activity they organised themselves along the port and starboard sides of the decks. In the commotion I went unnoticed and decided to watch everything from the vantage of the quarterdeck balusters.

Whilst the rest of the Fleet waited the Dromannion advanced on the position held by the Equinox. I knew the scout-ship to be fully armed and wondered as we approached as to the nature of the warning. There was no sign of violence or danger, but all the scouts had come together in a tight formation awaiting the arrival of the flagship. It was only as we rode the last kilometre to their position that I saw the first indication of their distress. With my eyes fixed firmly on the ships ahead I did not notice much else until I heard an impact against the hull of the Dromannion. Glancing down I found myself looking into a tide of debris, consisting of pieces of wood, personal possessions and maritime equipment. In the midst of it I also spied a body.

At that same moment the watch cried out from the crowsnest and the Captain and his officers went to the port side of the ship. There I could see their faces change and as I looked down into the waters I began to see more and more detritus flowing past the ship. Bodies and the splintered remains of many vessels lay bobbing in the waves, being dragged by the current to some unknown destination. Duschet called out commands and soon a number of the crew were at work, fishing what they could from the water as the Dromannion ploughed towards the scout ships. Their efforts were rewarded with a gruesome haul, for amongst the detritus were three bodies, and all looked like they had been in the water for at least a few days.

The Captain called for the Healer Faren and right then my detachment from these proceedings ended. With the help of the Healer and a few of my colleagues we arranged the bodies for examination, and on the mid-deck began a detailed search for their cause of death. Faren was able to determined quickly that they had all died of drowning, only one showing sign of an injury. With this information at hand the Dromannion forged ahead, making for the Equinox with all speed. It was only then that I began to see something else, just beyond the line of our ships. And as the light grew brighter it became far clearer. It was a thicket of masts and torn sail, reaching into the air like broken fingers of wood. Ahead of us were the remains of ships, and they were not ours.

Quickly we made the position of the Equinox and pulled alongside. Against the bulk of the Dromannion the Equinox was small by comparison, but what lay ahead of both ships was beyond their capacity to handle alone. In the water lay the sinking remains of at least thirty ships, and across a wide area floated hundreds of survivors, hanging on to whatever debris gave them salvation from the grip of the waves. In amongst the tangle rowed the skiffs of the Equinox and the other scouts, hauling men, women and children to safety. Since first light they had been at it and already the deck of the Equinox was covered with the limp bodies of many exhausted souls.

Within that first minute a flare was shot high, calling the Fleet forward and Faren apportioned out the duties for his Assistants. I went with Stump and the Healer onto the deck of the Equinox and we began to determine who needed help most. Everybody who had been pulled from the water was chilled to the bone and many of the children needed immediate attention. It was to be the beginning of a very long day.

Whilst we tended those aboard the Equinox the rest of the Fleet gathered at the edges of the debris. Quickly lifeboats were dropped from their davits and soon the sea was alive with rescuers, searching the debris field and pulling all who still had breath from the cold embrace of the sea. In those few hours more than six hundred people were hauled out of the water, and for the remainder of the day the remnants of their vessels were searched for belongings and goods that might be useful to the progress of the Fleet. None of the ships that had brought these people to this point lasted the afternoon. All succumbed to the damage that had been wrought upon them, and to the last they sank into the depths. With great pride I can say that all who could be saved were saved. No-one was left behind. We are left now with questions that must be answered, and uppermost in all our minds is who are these people, and how did they get here?

Such questions must wait however. Those that we have saved are spread amongst all the ships of the Fleet and for the moment we can only tend to their distress. There is much about them though that is different. All wear the same grey-coloured clothing, and although it is of a style I have not seen before it appears to be some type of uniform. Curiously even the children wear the same drab coverings and I am sure that they do not originate in Adoracia. Although they seem to be a powerfully built people they are shorter than most men I have known. At their tallest they must stand only shoulder high but this is something that I am not sure about. None have had the energy to do anything except rest in the arms of their saviours. There will be time enough to find out everything about our new brethren later.

After such a tumultuous event I now take the time to rest and complete my journal for this day. The newcomers are a most unusual addition to our number but there has been no suggestion that they will do anything except come with us on our journey. There is truly nowhere that they can now go, and it has been remarked that it can be no coincidence that we have met them heading in the same direction as our own Fleet. For my own part I feel something in these people that I have seen in the northerner. It may just be the strength that is evident in them all but there are secrets here as well, secrets that I feel will be of benefit to everyone. It is just a feeling but it is one I cannot shake. Only time will tell.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Fifty-nine

2007-01-18T13:42:00.000-08:00

Finally the rain has ended and we have arisen from below decks to find the Fleet dispersed far to the north and south of our position. Flares have been fired, calling all of the ships together and this morning has been spent taking account of the Fleet. As far as can be seen we have suffered no losses, and in the calm that has followed the rain all the vessels of our number have closed into tight formation. Message flags have been used to speak amongst us and some of the news has proven worrying. Illness has broken out on three ships, the cause and remedy unknown. Luckily each of the vessels has a Healer of their own and for the moment they have cautioned the transfer of any additional help until it can be ascertained as to what the affliction might be. For the moment the Healers have decided to keep the ships quarantined as we return to our voyage. Water stocks however, have been fully replenished. At least on this point we will have no need to worry for at least the next fourteen days.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Fifty-seven

2007-01-15T04:08:00.000-08:00

The storm continues but the winds have retreated, a deluging rain all that remains of the weatherfront. For all of this day we have had rain and only the crew have been allowed on to the upper decks. I continue my work as usual but being below decks without sight of sun or sky is proving very disheartening. The cold has abated and everything is damp, the rain finding its way to all decks of the vessel. Providence has given us what we have asked for in an abundance that has drenched us to the bone. There seems to be no end to the downpour and in its all-embracing shroud we can see nothing of the other ships. We can only hope that none have come to harm.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Fifty-six

2007-01-12T22:12:00.000-08:00

There is an old saying amongst the Tendu peoples of eastern Adoracia that a man should be careful of what he wishes for. For the peoples of our Fleet we have certainly got more than we asked. In the early hours of this morning a stormfront moved in from the south, and we have been visited with a day of rain and high winds that have dispersed our ships, and left us fighting to keep the Dromannion in good order. Unlike previous storms this tempest does not have the uncontrolled fury of its predecessors. We are confronted however, with changing winds and a continuous rain that has found its way through the entire ship as a floating mist.

On the decks above the crew struggles with the conditions, the winds turning in all directions, tearing down rigging and throwing furled sails onto the decks below. The Captain has been forced to turn the Dromannion into the winds and it is a constant battle to keep the ship stable in a churning sea. Above all we can feel the cold that has come with this bluster. All hatches have been covered and only the crew remains above. Below decks we must be content with listening to the howl of the winds and placing our trust in the skill of the Captain and his crew.

In the midst of this storm I have found that nothing can safely be done. Our duties lay uncompleted, and we spend our time instead huddled in our quarters, listening to the gales and talking amongst ourselves. The cold creeps in to our small room like a thief in the dark and we have all resorted to throwing on extra clothes to keep warm. Only one task must be completed and it has fallen to Stump to do it. It must be ensured that the children are warm and the northerner has left to ensure this. The rest of us cannot help as we must wait in case a call comes from above for help. The storm rages on and the only person I can think of who might be happy about it will be the WaterMaster. I believe our stores will be replenished quickly.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Fifty-five

2007-01-10T04:49:00.000-08:00

As of yet we have seen no rain, the skies remain clear, only wisps of cloud break what is a perfect vault of blue above us. The WaterMaster has reported to the Captain that we have less than a week's supply at our current usage but there is little we can do. Rations are as low as it is safe to take them and unless rain comes we will find ourselves in dire need. We all look to the horizon, hoping to see the beginnings of weather but as of yet there has been nothing.

The prospect of running out of water has not reduced the duties that we must perform however. Our routine runs as always and I find little time available for relaxation. Hygiene below decks is becoming an issue. With large numbers of people living in close quarters it is becoming more difficult to maintain clean conditions, and we are starting to see the emergence of many minor complaints associated with the cramped accommodations. For the moment we seem able to tend to these problems but Faren has warned us that it will take only one serious illness and we may not be able to control what will follow.

It was in the mid-afternoon that I was witness to the highlight of our day. About us the Fleet is ranged in a wide pattern and although there are many ships in our number we manage to keep distance between us for safety. At the second bell past noon a call went up from the watch above and I was lucky enough to be on deck when it came. Off the starboard bow rose a behemoth of the deep, not unlike that which I saw aboard the Equinox but far greater in size. Its ridged back appeared out of the waters between the Dromannion and the Avernell, a huge triangular shaped fin clearing the water and lifting up into the air. I have no doubt that the fin alone was twice the height of the Dromannion's mainmast, and as it slid over on its side it sank back into the impenetrable waters, then resurfaced again before diving back into the depths. For those who had not seen such a creature before the sight of its immense form gave pause to think, and to consider the nature of the beasts that must live beneath us. This behemoth was larger than that which I had previously experienced and it does make me wonder if these creatures will get bigger the further we travel into the west. I do not see them as dangerous, but something that lives on such a vast scale can have no real regard for flotsam as fragile as our own ships. We could be crushed and the behemoth might not even notice.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Fifty-four

2007-01-10T04:44:00.000-08:00

The dream has haunted me for the past three days, but I cannot let it gain an importance it may not deserve. There is much to be done and our duties do not get any lighter. The provision of fresh water is now becoming a problem, one that only rain can solve, and we have been without a good downpour for more than a week. We have all been placed on reduced rations until suitable rain refills the water stores.

It is on this day that I can report an interesting turn of events regarding the routine of our ship. All of us have our duties, but the constant work of the day does not forestall the eruption of quarrelling amongst our number. Such disturbances have become commonplace and although they have not yet affected the running of the ship, it is only a matter of time before a serious dispute will polarise the evacuees and cause great discord amongst us. To ensure that trivial disputes do not grow into events that can cause disharmony the Captain has ordered the establishment of the position of Administrator. Such a position is to be held by the ship's Second Officer and all matters pertaining to rations, quartering and personal affront are to be directed to him. On all questions of arbitration he will have the last word, and with the full authority of the Captain can dispense whatever remedy is required to settle disputes. I believe it is a good idea. Whether it works will be something only the future can unveil.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Fifty-one

2006-12-22T04:45:00.000-08:00

Last night a vision came to me in my dreams. From somewhere deep within my slumber I found myself alone aboard the Dromannion and witness to events which haunt me even as I write these words. I sit quietly now upon the foredeck, watching the suns set on another day and I am wondering what might lie in wait for me in the night hours to come. The vision is a message, of this I am sure, but it gives me no solace or surety for I cannot fathom the meaning of it. All I can say is that it has left me wondering if our journey westwards will prove to be our salvation, or our undoing.

I went to my quarters at a late hour. I had spent time talking with the Healer Faren, discussing a peculiar case I had unearthed amongst the NomDruse. One of the boys has an unusual rash spreading across his arms and legs and was bleeding from the gums. Although it sounds serious, the nature of the rash was only mild, the bleeding only noticeable when he would wipe his mouth with his forearm. It was something however that needed to be reported to the Healer and I brought him to the children's quarters for the purpose of an examination. Stump came with us, he is still the only person aboard who speaks the children's native language, and time was spent finding out all that could he unearthed about the boy's history and symptoms. His name is Meriarrum and in the gloom of the quarters we were able to discover enough for the Healer to ascertain the boy's problem. It was a blood disease, only yet in its early stages, but something that would require treatment. It was not infectious, however it would take time to overcome.

I spoke with Faren for some time before returning with Stump to our rooms. He seemed deep in thought and talked only infrequently as we walked the crowded galleyways to our quarters. He would give no comment on the nature of the boy's illness except to say that many afflictions looked similar, and that perhaps Meriarrum would surprise us all. I left the northerner to his books and opened my hammock. It was then that sleep overtook me.

In the quiet of my dreams I found myself alone, a solitary soul on an empty Dromannion sliding silently through a sea as flat as a tabletop. Above the two moons shone brightly, a harsh light from on high that etched the ship with hard shadows, throwing latticeworks of light and shade across the decks ahead of me. There was no wind but the ship ploughed forward, on a set course that could not be altered. As is the strangeness of dreams it did not occur to me that my situation was unusual. I was not the master of my own destiny, so why should I not be a captive passenger on a ship that would go where it wished. In this dream I was a spectator and somehow I understood that. I stood my ground and waited.

Out of the gloom ahead came a spire of stone that rose from the languid waters and speared up into the sky above. It was an immovable tower of granite that was soon followed by another and then a third; vast pillars of rock that gave only enough width between them to allow a bare passage of the ship. And yet through this forest of spires the Dromannion slipped easily, taking a straight line that led the vessel into a wide ring of towering stones. Here the ship came to a stop. All about the spires stood mute, but that was not the end of the dream.

From high above came a shriek, a sound that sent chills of terror down my spine. I looked up and saw the heights of each spire surmounted by one of the flying reptiles that had hastened us from Corin'kraag, and behind each lay a dark malevolence that looked down at the Dromannion with a hatred that I could feel burning into my skin. Only on one of spires did no creature reside. Instead upon its cragged summit stood a man cloaked in the deepest blue, and from his form crackled an arcing tangle of energy that kept the reptiles at bay and forced the brooding evil to hold its violence in check. But only for a moment. Out of the sky came great blasts of lightning, crashing into the pillars, smashing them as energy exploded against their sides, sending them falling into the tranquil waters. When I looked up the way ahead had been cleared and the Dromannion once again started forward, but this time there was no easy passage.

From out of the darkness rose a violent gale that churned the sea, great waves thrashing against the remaining spires as the ship tried to make the only way out. It did not succeed. In a cacophony of smashing timbers the ship drove headlong into one of the broken spires, splintering its bow in a violent upheaval, dropping masts and rigging as the relentless force of the waves pounded the mighty ship into the spire's immovable flank. With a rending cry the ship succumbed and began to sink. It was then that I awoke to the sounds of the ship at night, relieved in my realisation that it had been a dream and not a disaster. Above the snoring and the creaking of the Dromannion's timbers I could hear only the turning of parchment as Stump read his books. I did not sleep again that night.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Fifty

2006-12-22T04:42:00.000-08:00

Life aboard ship continues to a rythm that we are all settling to. The work of the Healers is proving diverse and interesting, and amongst the peoples of the Dromannion even the Assistants are being met with respect and deference. It is a curious thing. I have been a Potter most of my adult life, respected for the goods that I have worked with my hands, and in that profession have held a social status of trust because of my membership of the Faeyen Guilds. People now treat me far differently. Although I never thought about it before, I can see now that healing is a personal thing. The trust my patients place in myself and the other Assistants brings with it a respect that knits you closely to them. Their pain becomes yours to ease, and the more I tend to their needs the greater the satisfaction that I gain from my endeavours. If this voyage lasts long enough I am sure I shall become a Healer in my own right. And if this is so I am not so certain now that I would return to my old craft. For myself I cannot help but wonder if it is the subtle hand of fate that is now shaping our individual destinies. I can be sure however, that the future holds such secrets close, and they are secured behind veils that only the passage of time can uncover.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Forty-nine

2006-12-13T04:40:00.000-08:00

Today I was awakened early to the sounds of commotion outside our rooms. Stump and Ahlek Norahm were first to the door, myself and the others of our quarters following behind as we became a part of a steady stream of men and women making for the upper deck. Something was happening above and was of sufficient interest that the decks below were emptying quickly. Within the throng I moved carefully, making the stairs to the upper deck before finding myself pushed into a pack of pointing arms and upturned heads.

In the morning light I could not at first see what it was that my compatriots were looking at. The sky above was a deep blue, only the wisps of high cloud tinged with orange marring its pristine field. The wind was steady but not the powerful bluster of the last days. It was still cold and in the spreading light it took me a moment to see what the commotion was all about. Against the dark shadows of the ship I was amazed to find that the rigging was on fire.

There was something wrong though. Quickly I looked left and right searching for any sign of the crew. All were standing fast, watching the display, making no attempt to douse the flames or cut down the burning ratlines. It was only then that I looked closer and could see that the rigging, and indeed the sails themselves, were not burning. Above me danced a conflagration of blue-white flame, that jumped between the ratlines and run up the stays to the yards, before dissipating into the air above. It was like flame but not; too fast to be burning, yet as volatile and energetic as any fire I had ever seen. The air was charged with a powerful energy and I could smell with each breath that same smell one might find with the approach of a thunderstorm. I have never seen anything like it.

For a few minutes longer the strange display danced amongst the rigging above us before fading into the morning brightness. I was entranced by it, the sheer power and speed of its flickering energy coursing up the rigging lines before expanding out into the air above the masts. Of all the people watching though only one was smiling. For us all it was an awesome spectacle that had us staring into the air, trying to fathom the nature of what we were seeing. For Stump though it was as if he was welcoming an old friend, and he seemed unaware as to how different his response was from the rest of us. He knew something about the strange phenomena and I was determined to find out what that was.

While the crowd remained thick upon the deck I pushed my way to Stump's side and asked him directly what the flickering lights were. To my surprise he told me without hesitation. To the peoples of the North they were known as the Fires of Ayari, a potent symbol of the power of the wind gods to change the destiny of men. For his people such displays were always a good omen, a sign that something positive was about to impact on lives overwhelmed by desperation and hardship. He said that we were about to have good fortune visited upon us all. I can only say that I hope he is right.

The display of the Fires of Ayari have been the talk of the ship for the remainder of the day. And in those discussions I have heard a witches brew of superstition and fact melding together to confuse and misinform, until no one was sure what they might have seen, or give good reason for its appearance. I kept what the northerner had said to me close though. If indeed we are to be visited with good fortune it will be appreciated all the more if it is not expected.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Forty-seven

2006-12-11T04:30:00.000-08:00

The morning has dawned to find the wind now blowing from the south, its bluster veering in the night and leaving the Fleet in the grip of an icy hand. Still we forge westwards, the horizon a clear vista of surging water and the spreading wakes of dozens of vessels. As in the early mornings of previous days I am up with my colleagues, handing out warm clothing and helping with the clearing of ice from the workings of the ship. The southerlys bite deeply, the winds a rising bluster that has begun to churn the waters about us, raising the swell of the waves and sending the Dromannion pitching and rolling in its endless heave. There is no sign of cloud though. The sky remains clear, the dawn of the suns breaking the east with flaring hues of orange and red. I cannot help but notice the looks of anticipation in the eyes of the crew. They feel as I do that something is on the brew, and that it lies beyond the horizon to the south.

This day passes as all others have. The wind increases as we move further west and the cold has taken hold of the ship, freezing water as it pools upon the decks, making even the shortest of journeys hazardous. We spend our time clearing the decking and tending to our normal duties, but there is something out of place in the cold that assaults us. It is known that huge icepacks lay far to the south but they stand at such a distance that they could not generate such chill. Somehow the wind has the feeling of icy claws drawing their way along the ship, grasping at it and smothering it slowly in a cold that paralyses anyone who ventures above deck.

At last light flags have been raised to signal the rest of the Fleet. Captain Duschet has decided to turn to the north-west and put distance between ourselves and whatever is generating the cold bluster. By dusk the entire Fleet had changed course. Hopefully we can outrun these unknown forces and tear ourselves away from this all-embracing chill.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Forty-four

2006-12-06T20:12:00.000-08:00

Today Stump joined the Healer's Assistants for the first time. The Captain has chosen another five persons to train with Faren, and the northerner has been included as a part of this new group. Since finding the Haarn children - who insist on being called NomDruse - Stump has been by their side, acting as interpreter and standing as Guardian to their needs and wellbeing. In this task he has been joined by more than a dozen helpers, both men and women, all having taken up the challenge of teaching the children the common tongue of Adoracia and ensuring their daily needs are met. So far the children have stood apart, unwilling to show any sign of interaction or interest in the activities aboard ship. It is my belief that only time will heal the unseen wounds that have marked them.

In a deliberate attempt to keep a close watch upon Stump he has been paired with myself in our training. Faren has not come to see me regarding this. I believe the act of placing him as my partner in our internship has spoken clearly enough. I cannot say that I have any misgivings, the man grows into more of a mystery the more I get to know him, but there is something about him that is both compelling and dangerous. He holds a great power within, yet appears to all as almost invisible, wielding a practised skill to be a part of a group and in that gathering go unnoticed. I swear there are times in the day when I have to remind myself that he is actually beside me as we work.

The afternoon of this day has seen me and a number of the Assistants providing a health check to the NomDruse children. They have been given quarters in the second deck below the foredeck, and an entire section has been made available to them. It has been discussed as to whether they might need to be transferred to one of the smaller and less crowded vessels, but that cannot be done just yet. Until the Fleet comes to a halt for some important purpose there can be no transfer between ships. For the moment we are taking full advantage of the favourable winds and shall stop for nothing. Until such time the NomDruse have a home within the Dromannion.

With the children tended, I have found the remainder of the afternoon available for leisure and have used it to spend some time with Stump. He is a difficult man to converse with, however on the subjects of our craft we have common ground, and for all his apparent knowledge there are many things that are new to him. The ailments and conditions that we have been confronted with provide ample opportunity for discussion but I have to record that even with this common interest I have found it impossible to uncover anything but the barest personal facts on the northerner. Perhaps if I did not feel so tired I might have better fortune.

The past week has been busy, the learning given by the Healer Faren exhaustive in its breadth and depth, however I can say that the vocation of Healer has proven a fascinating one. Within the Fleet there are few men as skilled as Faren, and from what I have been able to gather all the Healers have taken on Assistants in an attempt to provide proper care across the Fleet. Many ships have none at all, and it has been made clear to us that upon completion of our training that each of us will find a home somewhere in the Fleet where we are needed. It is a fact that we have all come to accept but I hope I will get the chance to remain here aboard the Dromannion. For me it has become home.

Although there is much that needs to be done aboard the Dromannion, and much that remains unknown about our future, I have found one thing that is concrete about the mysterious northerner. He harbours an unusual interest in the library take from Corin'kraag, and in particular a set of three books from amongst their number. These he has taken to our quarters and can be found reading from them at every opportunity he has. I have asked him on what they contain but he has said only that they are written in a language known as Haer'al, and are part of a history that is important to him. For the moment I am content to leave it at that.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms

Day Forty-three

2006-11-29T04:21:00.000-08:00

Five days have now passed since we turned into the west. And now that the way forward has been decided a new energy has infused the Fleet, our ships riding steadily into the unknown reaches of the Grey Sea. Life for the crew and evacuees of the Dromannion has settled into a routine, one of constant work that keeps all hands busy, and allows the souls aboard to focus on what is immediately important, rather than worry about what may lay ahead.

For my part I have been deep in study, the craft of Healing a vocation requiring both knowledge and skill. The Healer Faren is a storehouse of both, a deep well of information and wisdom that myself, and the other Assistants, must make constant referral too. My days are spent in tending the sick and injured, working alongside my fellow trainees as we try and make sense of the bewildering range of ailments and afflictions that seem to emerge amongst the passengers of this vessel. No day sees the same patients yet each day follows the same solid routine. The morning is spent in the Surgery, tending those who come for help, the afternoon spent searching out those who do not wish the attention. For the Healer Faren this is the most important task of the day. It is his contention that we must find everyone who is sick, whether they wish help or not, for it will take only one serious illness to put the entire Fleet at risk. Thus we spend much time below decks, surveying every room and hold, looking for those who harbour a harsh cough, or concealed rash. Anything that might connote infection is dealt with immediately, and as long as our medicines hold out so it will be.

There is time for other activities however. Every soul aboard has been given a job to do, a specific duty that it that person's alone. Whilst the crew may sail the ship and tend to its many needs, the evacuees have been given the task of looking after themselves. Cooking, cleaning, production of clothing, entertainment, hygiene duties and schooling have all been taken up eagerly, and within the narrow world that is this ship we have begun to operate very much like a small town, with village meetings, entertainment and disputes all part of the ongoing calendar of life. Very quickly we are recognising each other, our names and duties aboard. The bustle and activity of the ship provides a focus that does not allow us to think about what the future may bring. It is easy enough however, to glance out over the disquiet sea and be reminded that the dozens of ships that forge westwards with us are only small islands of humanity in a wider world that seems ambivalent to our progress.

Since turning westwards the weather has remained favourable. Out of the north-east blows a consistent stream of air, pushing our ships deep into the Grey Sea. Cloud banks have come and gone and we have been visited only with light rain and morning mists. With the wind at our back we forge ahead, the horizon a clear line dividing sea and sky, broken only by our scout vessels as they lead the way. It is easy as I sit upon the foredeck to believe that we are the only living things in this universe. I wonder how long it will be before we see land.

Maps of the voyage
The Chronicles of Arborell
A Glossary of Terms