Eris' Handmaiden Page 5

Sinaedh thrashed in a nightmare. She’d been running through deep snow, freezing, following a staggering form. Blood stained the snow, and she flailed, crying, but no matter how she struggled, she couldn’t catch up. The form turned, reaching out to her, then falling back soundlessly. “Sanders!” Sinaedh cried out, sitting up suddenly.

The morning was early. A chill breeze blew over the deck. Sinaedh pulled the blanket close, trembling. “Oh Sanders,” she whispered. Slowly she rose, still holding the blanket close. The knarr sailed through long swelled waves, rocking, the sail still holding a following breeze. As she walked to the side, she saw Olafr standing there, staring toward the east. The sky was pink, streaked with crimson clouds that hung over the water in anticipation of the sun that hadn’t yet risen. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, watching the sun rise.

“Our folk have a saying… red sky in morning, sailors take warning,” Olafr replied.

“The weather will be bad?” she asked, glancing up at the sail, then back to the east.

“Could be,” the grizzled captain said, nodding. “Be prepared.”

Throughout the day, the sailors cast wary eyes to the sky. The wind steadily increased from the southwest, and scudding clouds began to obscure the sun. Spits of water, whether from whitecapped waves or the lowering clouds Sinaedh couldn't tell, spattered on the decks. Everyone on the knarr wrapped their best waterproof cloak around them as the temperature dropped.

“Stay close by the sail,” Olafr warned Sinaedh. Men checked and rechecked binding lines and helped with the steering oar. The knarr rocked violently as the wind increased. Now rain sheeted down on them, drenching and chilling everyone. A howling wind forced the sailors to take in the sail or risk breaking the mast. Sinaedh shivered, gripping tightly to the secured cask of water. Rain blew into the tent, and waves crashed over the sides of the boat.

Sinaedh whispered prayers for herself and the sailors around her as she clutched the barrel, doing her best to keep from being pitched to and fro. The sky darkened so much that it seemed nearly night. A huge wave splashed over the side of the boat, and she heard frightened cries. Staggering up, she found Ingr rushing toward her. “Sigvarr! He is hurt!” the man yelled to her over the storm.

“I can help,” she called back. Ingr reached out to grip her hand firmly, guiding her around cargo lashed to the deck. Forward, in the small lea provided by the gunwale, lay one of the sailors, a large gash bleeding on his brow. Sinaedh crashed to her knees as the ship lurched under her, then took the cloth offered her by Ingr. Other sailors yelled around them, each working to keep the ship afloat as wind, rain and wave battered them.

Sinaedh wiped the wound gently, cleaning away blood. The bone underneath seemed to be unharmed. Closing her eyes, she placed a hand on the man’s forehead, whispering a prayer, lost in the wind. Cold gripped her heart for a moment. She felt none of the familiar heat that healing with God’s grace normally brought to her. Could she have sinned so much that He denied her? Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the rain and salt spray. “Please Lord,” she murmured. “You are God of forgiveness, of grace. Heal this man through me. I have sinned, but…”

She gasped as lightning flashed through the sky, striking the mask with a deafening crack. The large wooden pole smoldered, swaying crazily back and forth, then seemingly in slow motion dropped forward, smashing into the deck. Ingr gripped her shoulders. “We must move.”

“No.” Sinaedh closed her eyes again, silently praying. Relief washed over her as the warmth of healing moved through her hand and to the downed sailor. The wound stopped bleeding and the lines of pain eased from the man’s face.

“Come! Now!” Ingr yelled. Waves crashing against the boat shifted the broken mast, sending it shifting toward them. Another loud crack of lightning blinded and deafened all on the small ship. Then, as if an underwater giant’s hand had taken hold of it, the ship was lifted. Sinaedh heard men scream as the lurch shook them overboard. “Odinn!” Ingr wailed as the ship crashed down into the water, black waves covering all aboard.

The beach was nearly quiet after the storm. There was no wind, and the waves lapped gently at the sand.

Gulls called raucously high overhead, occasionally diving to pluck a bit from the debris, then leaping again into the air as if they didn’t wish to be caught in the ill fortune that had smashed the boat down into the water, carrying crew and cargo to their fates.

Marks on the sand high above the normal tides showed the fury of the storm. Bits of tangled cloth, seaweed, broken wood and occasional sodden chunks of cargo were the only remains of the knarr Svanfridr.

Crabs sidled silently over the detridus, plucking bits of flesh or trapped sea creatures from the flotsam with delicate pincers. Down the beach, a group of hobgoblins stared, milling anxiously, unnerved by the change in their hunting grounds. A few grunted remarks were exchanged between the hunched creatures, then they moved farther south, away from the bad luck of the wreck.

The sun had risen beautifully again, its gentle rays belying the destruction of the day before. Waves gently stroked the shore as the tides rose, burying some of the sad remains the water had brought to land.

A sand-coated lump of cloth shifted slightly. A low moan drifted to the gathering crabs.

Then all was still again, the murmur of the ocean and cries of the gulls reclaiming the beach.

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Archer image from Graphic Knights