The Vengeful Tide Ch. 12

In a few days, we would be heading into a part of the seas known as The Coffin's Mouth. I remember that sea well because it was there that the first trials of my position as captain be tested. I count that I had lost about five men to that sea before I had escaped from it.

As I stepped out onto the deck, I saw the entirety of my crew standing there on the Main Deck. The ship moved not from its position. Even Liara, Alteria, Diane, and Goron were present. The elves, Ellen, my mother, all were present except for the Xhaluter who still laid unconscious in the brig and Boreli who was in the same place.

My boots knocked against the wood as every eye paid attention to my movements until I was on the Main Deck with everyone else. The smell of seawater stung my nose. I now be aware that there are no gulls screeching in the sky.

"Alright, ya bastards! It be time I address ya lot. I address this now because there shall be no time nor place that you guys thought I did not do my duties as Captain! Now that we have left C'ula, we have traveled southeast. Just yesterday we have entered The Coffin's Mouth or as is more formally known, The Graven Sea," I said.

I could see eyes wide with fear. Aye, these expressions be warranted. For more than a thousand years, there have only been two types of men to sail this part of the sea; the bold...and the desperate.

The Graven Sea is a place men and women only sail to when they beg for Death's sweet embrace. Dark magic, treacherous waves, unholy creatures, and boundless treasures await in this sea for those daring enough to come here. Perhaps, that is why Liara never thought the Isles of Delverhold would be here. Who would be daring enough to place their treasures in these seas?

Legends like to state that Persephone, Hades' wife, fell for an earnest, hardworking man that loved the earth and tilled it with joy. No doubt this be because her mother was the goddess of agriculture. To see a man honor her mother so passionately must have moved the heart of this woman trapped by Hades in the Underworld.

During the time that she was with Hades, she played on his love for her and he allowed her to traverse the living world. Time and time again, she met with this man secretly. She cultivated the fields with him and even tasked her mother with blessing the soil beneath his feet. So strong was her love for this mortal that she laid with him and conceived his child.

As a story like this should go, Hades discovered this and, in his rage, trapped Persephone in the Underworld. He forced her to watch as ancient magic turned a deadly siren into her appearance. The Siren led the man and his child away from the blessed lands he tread upon and into the sea far away. There, the Siren devoured the man and his child while Hades cursed both to the seas we sailed. Their souls were bound here for all eternity to cry, mourn, and wander for Persephone and drag any ships unfortunate enough to wander these seas into a watery grave. The captains and their crews be the vigilant eye of this father and child, aiding them in finding their love, bringing more to them to increase their vigilant watch.

What my crew was scared of was that recently, there were tales of something even more terrifying than that legend. Tales of Q'wual, the Sightless. I know of him because I almost lost my soul when I almost laid eyes upon him wandering through the dark mist of the sea. If I put this shit bluntly, I doubt even the Witch and I together could fully contend with Q'wual.

"Ya got one chance. If ya don't wish to be on my ship, then the nearest piece of rock should be to the north. If ya got the guts to swim back then I bet you can do it if yer scared. If not, then ye best be prepared to lose your life. I ain't gonna lie to you right now. Not everyone on this ship is gonna make it. Shut the fuck up and face it. From the man who swabs the deck to me, there is no guarantee that we survive. Naturally, ya have seen what I can do and we hold the Witch of Draegnar aboard our ship. Our chances be higher than any other ship venturing here, but don't slack off! If ya want to survive then you will listen to what I say! Every word!" I said.

"If I yell ya to jump, then ya don't ask questions! Ya just jump! If I tell ya to strip naked, then I best see a pile of clothes littering my ship! If I tell ya not to speak, then SHUT YER TRAP! I have kept you safe this far and beguiled your eyes with treasure. If ya want to return home to your families, or whatever shithole you call a life, then you best listen to me! GOT IT?!" I hollered.

"AYE AYE, CAPTAIN!" They said.

I slowly nodded. I then turned around. "Good, now everyone close yer eyes," I ordered. Everyone did so, or so I wanted to believe.

"Now then, those who wish to leave, jump ship and swim back to shore. But don't think ya can be sneaky and steal from me. I'll make you wish you hadn't! You've got two minutes!" I threatened.

In those two minutes, I heard about ten to fifteen splashes of water. I held it against no one. I would try to keep them all alive, but it was obvious that I could not do that. Some were going to die here. It was inevitable. If we all managed to live, then this ship truly be cursed already. Perhaps someone should argue that I ought to give them their possessions, but I be not that kindhearted.

When I turned around, I saw those who were willing to stay. It was a lot more than I had given credit. They each stared at me with eyes that told me that only those who were willing to risk everything be the ones worthy enough to gain fame and glory.

"Helmsman, we sail for Delverhold. WE SAIL FOR GREATER FAME AND GLORY!" I shouted.

"WE SAIL FOR GREATER FAME AND GLORY, CAPTAIN!" they echoed back to me.

Ellen then began barking orders and reassigning the schedules for everyone. The trials would begin very soon. I say this because...I felt the boat shift to the right beneath the tides.

"Helmsman, keep your senses! We're off the path!" I said.

"What? But Captain, I haven't even moved the wheel yet!" the man replied to me.

I nodded. "Aye. You best make sure to keep your focus then. This is no fairy tale adventure! We sail to madness," I told him.

The helmsman firmly nodded and steered the ship back on course with the helm. We continued to sail forward.

As I looked off the side of the ship, Liara appeared next to me. "Tell me, Eric, how could a young man such as yourself come to know or be so certain of the dangers of these seas? It's almost as if you've been here before," she stated not so subtly to me.

I smiled. If this was some kind of game to the Witch then I would have to disappoint her. I turned my head and quickly surprised her with another kiss. However, I became aware of Ilzahold's willingness to go through with the pleasure that her lips and mine provided each other. Even now, as I taste her lips, I cannot perfectly describe the unreal firing of my senses when I touch her. It's enough to almost make my legs give out on me.

We parted. "Perhaps I have, Liara. Perhaps it came upon me in a vision, or perhaps reincarnation was a concept that may hold weight after all. Who can say?" I asked.

The Witch of Draegnar smiled. "Indeed. Who can say?" she repeated. She then left me alone.

My ship continued to operate as normal, but the main difference between before and now was that I had to constantly bark orders to the helmsman to stay on course. Each order made the man grow more and more anxious. He kept apologizing for his folly as I sensed the ship change course every so often. He kept swearing to me that he had not changed course, but he had.

I did not hold it against him. What can an old salty dog do before the coat of magic in the air? It was no dangerous magic, but it was there. It be like a soft subtle suggestion to the mind of the ship.

A simple turn here was no problem.

A shift of the helm there would cause no concern.

The ship would sail much faster if it turned in this direction to catch this mysterious wind.

No doubt these suggestions and more filled my helmsman's mind. Unfortunately, this wasn't exactly a magic that Liara or myself could handle. It would be easy if he were being controlled by the magic, but it was suggestions. It was little tantalizing whispers meant to steer us off course. Aside from blocking all of his senses and leaving him a vegetable, the only course was to correct him constantly.

Now granted, one might wonder why the magic barrier that surrounded the ship was not aiding in preventing these things, well...one may learn that there be several types of barriers. Some are better suited than others. The type of barrier this ship came with was suited defense from more offensive spells, and not controlling ones like what was occurring here.

"Perhaps for the sake of a safe voyage, I shall waver expenses until we reach our destination. I offer this for now. While it might not help completely with what's going on, it should fortify the mind," Liara said as she handed the helmsman a bottle of blue liquid.

Aye, at a point such as this, a potion to boost the mental fortitude was better than nothing.

"I...I don't have the coin for this," the man replied.

"Tis free...for now. Do come to me if you have need. Though I would advise that ye drink sparingly. No more than a sip each day," the witch advised before she returned to her quarters.

The helmsman took the potion and I found that I did not need to correct him as often as before.

After about four hours passed, I noticed that the magic in the air had lessened greatly. The helmsman needed no further corrections. It became clear to me now that we had pretty much sailed past the veil of The Coffin's Mouth.

"Ellen, tell the changing helmsmen to keep straight along this seaway. We will be sailing this route for the next few days. When ye see a mist so heavy that you cannot tell your right from your lift, then call for me. I will pave our path," I said to my Quartermaster.

The owner of the Dead Tales folded her arms. "You sure we're not going to go off track again? You've had to correct them over a dozen times," she mentioned.

"If the ship changes course then I'll change it back. I have the means to do so. No one is allowed to interrupt me unless it be a dire emergency or dinner," I told her. I then walked up the stairs and returned to my cabin.

I then hung up my coat and took off my boots. Now that we were in the Graven Sea, I would now have to get off my figurative ass and start working on something I loathed even more than rune sewing.

During my time with Liara back in C'ula, I had purchased a small cauldron. Arrrr, how I despised the task I am about to undertake. It takes more concentration and patience than Rune-Sewing with twice the rate of failure. I could already feel the irritating rushing through my head.

"God of Patience, if there be one, I could use that blessing shit you give to others right about now," I said to myself.

To be fair, if ye seek to criticize me then just know that a thing like alchemy be not something suited to one such as I.

Aye, yer ears do not deceive you. I, Eric Drakclaw, be about to undertake the grand chore...of magic alchemy. Ugh, the very words sting like salt on a wound.

The pursuit of alchemy is one of those paths apprentice mages are permitted to take once they graduate from their high-end schools and institutions of magic. Though notably harder to accomplish than Rune Sewing, there are more alchemists in the world than there are Rune Sewers. Hell, two of the handful of Rune Sewers be on this ship as I remember stating previously.

The reason for this divide is that there are many types of alchemists. The sub-types of alchemists are as numerous as the leaves on a tree. There be fire alchemists, wind alchemists, steel alchemists, dragon alchemists, feral alchemists, and any other type that you might be able to think of. If there is some strange concept out there, then there is probably an alchemist who has studied it and uses those methods to forge and enchant their own equipment.

Now before ya ask if there be any gold alchemists, then I would have to not disappoint you and say that there are, but no one knows where they are. So famous and well-respected are they that an emperor would be willing to sell his wife to one for whoever long they wanted just to get one piece of alchemist's gold. It's for that very reason that the number of fakes that attempt to make gold is as long as the sea my ship sails on.

Anyway, I be getting off the point. One is not "officially" recognized as an alchemist without taking some test passed by the royal mages that were recognized by society. Then there be ones like me, people who give two shits about tests and use alchemy whether recognized or not.

The reason alchemy be such a respected profession is because, in days of old, a king was threatened by a mighty dragon. A mysterious man came to the king one day and fashioned for him a blade made out of the stone walls of the left side of his kingdom. With that blade, the king slew the dragon, and the mystery man became known as a great alchemist that enchanted the king's blade with the power of a dragon slayer, or so legends like that go.

I inhaled and exhaled. Though this was my first time performing alchemy, just as with rune sewing, I have a certain wellspring of knowledge to draw from. Of course, I would spend hours replaying scenes of Ilzahold's alchemy. There was quite a lot of it.

The reason I chose to do this now was because of the magic in the sea air that surrounded us. This magic was a welcome catalyst to fueling the pot or flames of what I wanted to produce. Such magic auras are used by many alchemists to increase the success of their brewing stands. For a place as densely populated with magic like Delverhold, this was the best environment for me to work with.

So, I decided to begin what would be my torture and hell over the next few days. I opened my window and weaved in about half the cauldron's mouth in seawater into my room. I poured the water into the cauldron. Even now, I can sense the magical properties that lay within this water. What we have sailed in before could not offer comparison.

Once the saltwater was placed inside, I then reached into the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out an assortment of materials I had purchased from C'ula. I looked over my prizes before I decided to grab two of the lit candle lamps in my room and place them on opposite sides of the cauldron.

My room, once washed in candlelight, dimmed down where the cauldron sat. I then leaned over and picked up a vial of dragonewt grass. In another vial, there be about five crimson stones. Such items and more were around me. I closed my eyes and searched through the library that was Liara's memories for the things I needed to make. Ugh, just watching her work was enough to raise the hairs of my neck.

I picked up a vial of sanded blood. As I am a man of increasingly diminishing patience, I shall offer a mere statement to some of these materials if ye be interested. Sanded blood be a type of blood that has been joined with sand from the hottest deserts in the world. This sand makes the blood richer due to its strange metallic properties.

I opened the vial and poured the sanded blood into the cauldron filled with saltwater. Instantly the water and blood started to bubble with each other. Based on what Liara had done, this was supposed to happen for the next ten minutes. In that time, I opened a journal I had purchased and began writing down what I could gather from watching her.

The saltwater took on the color of the sanded blood. A deep glaze shined over what laid within the pot. The edges of the cauldron, due to the heat from the candles, began to expel tiny glimmers of salt that made it seem more akin to snow than salt.

I then took my finger and swirled the liquid in the cauldron as fast as I could. If one were listening just outside my door, then I have no doubt they were have heard the churning of the swirling fluids.

As the pot churned favorably, I held my right hand over it. "Ha'xah Szacrika Ooum Zlm Hafq," I uttered. I poured my mana into the pot and I watched the liquid boil angrily, violently even. Nevertheless, I forced it down into the pot with my powers, and damn if I don't say it was difficult. It was like a fire mage trying to keep a volcano from erupting. Even one slip and all my progress would be destroyed.

So tough was it that sweat poured down my face and to feel everyone moderately comfortable, I took off my shirt with my free hand. I then reached for a pouch and opened it. My fingers searched for what was inside and then pulled out a jar of ox balls.

Aye, no need to say it. At least ye don't have to touch it like I do.

I opened the jar and pulled out one of the testicles. Supposedly, ox balls are a good reinforcer for protective magic. I do not exactly know why nor do I care to delve into Liara's memories to find out either. It was her method so I used it.

I forged a blade of water with my finger and cut the testicle into three pieces. I picked it up and tossed it into the pot as well. I continued swirling my finger and the waters followed. That is if you could even call it water anymore.

The piece of testicle was dissolved in less than ten seconds, a harsh sizzle and foul stench followed. I be happy that I had my window open.

A half-hour passed and I was finally rewarded with no more twirling of my finger. I could finally stop stirring for a moment. I stared inside the pot and never mind looking like water, what was inside the pot didn't even look like liquid. Instead, it looked like a pot filled with black slime. I thought to touch it and experience its feel for myself, but I didn't do so. These weren't exactly materials that I could waste and I'd rather not imagine what something like this would do if it wasn't complete. I imagine it to be quite sticky though given the way it clings to the inner walls of the cauldron

Now, I had to...let this sit...for two days.

I'd curse, but that's beneath me.

"CUNT!!!!!!!!!"

...okay, maybe not.

I have no doubts some of my crew were laughing at me for my outburst. Perhaps even Liara was the same.

Fortunately, it seemed that my outburst was unwarranted because Liara had been busy preparing other materials while the cauldron was busy settling the materials I had used. That certainly eased my mood a little.

I placed a lid over the cauldron. I then moved back o my desk and lit another candle for appropriate light. As I pulled up my chair, I reached into another pouch and pulled the celtic pill that I had used for my mother's medicine awhile ago.

I had not explained this one previously, so I shall endeavor through that now for a moment.

If citric gain was the thing that aided the body's physical attributes with negative effects down the line, then the celtic pill was the thing that negated the disadvantages of the citric grain. I had previously stated that if one became exposed to citric grain for too long then their heart would give out in ten years or so.

A celtic pill is one of the answers to that. The veins of this type of pill have a way of strengthening the mana veins in a person's body. Because these veins are circled so close to the heart, it feeds off the increased density of mana that the celtic pill provides thus making it more resistant.

With the heart's resistance to strengthening effects improved, that also paved the way for a more purified mana pool. Don't ask me to start explaining shit that those professors and magic teachers speak on about mana theory and magic study. Having Ilzahold in my head is enough! What I can say is that with a stronger heart comes a stronger type of magic casting.

Anyway, I take a small knife and meticulously scraped the surface of the celtic pill. I could not recklessly cut this like before. There be precise measurements that must be taken for this to work. This is definitely not my preference.