Langidrik- Chapter 01 [PREVIEW]
“What is free will?”
The ocean could never be tamed. It was a wild beast that lashed out at all corners of the globe, tearing away the land with force unlike any created by man, and it never spared anyone. Or at least it never should have. It was why the sailors worshipped it, loved it, feared it. They could never hope to harness its powers so they lived day by day next to it, stealing its bounty for sustenance and hoping its mighty wrath would continue to appease them, to watch them silently from watery depths.
It had taken lives before, of those who got too cocky. Everyone had seen the remains washed up on shore-bodies bloated, ships wrecked. It sent chills down their spines, but they still continued to reap the rewards of the sea. They still continued to live by its side, and when death came they made sure to die by her side.
But even they knew when it was far too dangerous to go out. When the peak of the waves turned frothy white and crashed violently on the sandy beaches. Those stupid enough to venture out then could only hope for death.
This was the ocean.
This was langridik.
Lind knew this. He knew their calls of warning had been all but justified. He knew he was being idiotic, he knew he would die. But he had to go. Something called him out to the roaring waves, and he knew it had to be more than his stomach which had been far too empty, and his pockets the same through too many debts he still owed.
Langidrik had been even more restless lately. He had read the warnings as clear as he had seen them with his own eyes. It unnerved everyone, and he too had sensed the unease. He had wondered what caused it, he had wanted to go out and experience it. Yes he had been hungry, but now that he was here food was the last thing on his mind. Lind swallowed thickly, eyes darting out at the intense fog surrounding his ship. It wasn’t raining yet, but he could feel the wind picking up off in the distance, and the way the boat rocked didn’t ease his worries.
Yes food was the last thing on his mind. Now it was about survival.
Maybe he had been stupid to leave the shore, but he would have been just as much a fool and a debt-laden man had he stayed. He didn’t know which was worse, but now standing on the deck of his ship he knew this was the right choice. If he died very little would have been expected from this weather, but if he survived…
No. He wouldn’t think about that just yet. Lind pursed his lips into a thin line, turning on his heel towards the cabin. If there was one place that could potentially keep him safe, at least from the rain and harsh wind, that would be it. No the ship wasn’t the biggest vessel, he hadn’t the money or time to make it into something fancy as some of the other ships had been. Despite this, though, he had chosen the wood, a thick sturdy kind that was reasonably water proof under the wax coating that he had spent nearly a week applying into every nook and cranny.
The doors as well, had been enforced with steel he had bought for cheap thanks to a favor. Rust was a minimal worry, at least for right now. But he knew eventually even his ship would sink beneath the waves if a goliath wave hit. Capsizing was an issue as well. So really, he wasn’t protected at all. He knew this, too, lips turning upward only slightly, but that was always a risk, wasn’t it?
“One I’m willing to take.” He squashed his hat closer to his head, the thin straw material complying easily under the weight of his hand, and quickened his pace until he reached the cabin door, kicking it open with little regard to what might be behind it, and smiling.
He hadn’t brought nearly as much on this trip as he normally would have, after all they only created a hazard later, and deeper regret for when he eventually lost said items to the watery depths. He had, however, brought the necessities. A lone table with a map stretched out to mark his path. It had been well worn and had been of high value. A present he would hate to part with when the time came, but one he knew he needed regardless of the situation. The compass as well, had been a trusty companion, but he had many extras at home and on a clear night the stars led the way well enough. A pair of sheets and an old mattress lined one corner of the cabin. It was a makeshift bed for if the night dragged on too long, or he spent one too many nights at sea. It was easily replacable, at least.
So was the chair, something he had found and fixed up just for this purpose.
The coat hanging on the back, however, was one he refused to part with. It had been a gift, along with the map, and while it was worn and weathered it served its purpose well. Waterproof, as many of his clothes were, was the only relatively normal aspect of it. It was also extremely warm, perfect for cold nights or to keep the inevitable chill of salt water away from his skin. The pockets it held, both on the inside and on the out, were useful for carrying many things that he had to carry. So far only one item remained hidden in the pockets; a knife.
Lind wasn’t stupid, nor was he naïve.
The weather wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about on an ocean such as this. The creatures that lived beneath the turbulent surface were just as deadly. Regardless of personal experience, Lind’s hand reached up to touch the small scar on his chin, he had seen his fair share of bodies maimed beyond recognition because of them. Protection was a must if he planned to survive long enough to see the morning.
Even if he was certain he wouldn’t live even that long.
Lind walked slowly over to the rickety chair, grabbing the jacket and slipping it on before sitting down roughly. He felt safer already, as he glanced down at the map and traced with his finger the path he had taken, “It’ll still take time to get back if the storm gets worse,” he grit his teeth, tracing another line, this one in blue, “Even less likely I’ll get to Menuha,” He frowned at the crudely made border between the oceans. He never quite understood who had thought of naming these oceans, or where one stopped and the other began, but he supposed he should be thankful regardless.
Out of the six seas, after all, Langidrik was considered the deadliest.
Out of the very same six, Menuha was considered the most peaceful.
Lind let out a sigh, “it’s still a possibility,” he tapped the surface with his finger, frowning, “unless it’s being watched.” He quickly searched through one of his many pockets for the pass all sailors had been given. It ensured free travel amongst many of the oceans for trade purposes. He hoped it would work in this case as well. After all, most knew the violent tendencies of the ocean Menuha bordered, and it was almost expected that at least one ship per year would seek refuge in the calmer oceans as long as they went back eventually.
But most never make it back.
Lind shook his head, “No use thinking about that.” It would only worry him, and he needed a clear head for what came next. He couldn’t afford to be ignorant at a time like this. Sighing once more, Lind leaned back in his chair, staring up at the wood ceiling and frowning even further. He would make it back, even if it wasn’t as likely as he would have hoped.
Suddenly the boat lurched forward, sending him careening into the floor. Before he could right himself, the boat shifted backward, sending the table toppling to the ground -compass shattering at the violent contact of being tossed on the floor.
“Well, isn’t that lovely?” Lind laughed, watching the shards of glass glitter under the dim light from the only lamp in the room, which had somehow survived the impact. At least it was one less thing to worry about, Lind staggered to his feet, grabbing the map which was crumpled, but otherwise fine, and rolling it up tight, and sticking it soundly inside his jacket.
It was only a matter of time before the waves got rougher, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in his cabin when the ship capsized. But once he forced the cabin open, he wondered if it would have been a better idea to stay inside. His stomach lurched uncomfortably, as his legs stumbled forward. The fog had gotten thicker, but through it he could see waves crashing in the distance-dark masses of rolling water coming closer and closer. He bit back the fear chilling his stomach and forced his legs forward, towards the nearest railing, fingers gripping the splintering wood in a death grip as he watched-watched-watched each wave roll closer. Twice he nearly fell overboard, thrice his stomach seized in violent knots. Even with the fog, he could see something forming through the waves. He didn’t have to guess to know what it was.
The goliath, the monster wave he had been wary of. His lips twitched into a grim smile as the rain continued to pelt him with thick rain drops, sliding down the back of his neck, his hair now completely saturated. He was vaguely aware of losing his hat some time ago, but then at least that didn’t have significance to it, not when his life was at stake, at least.
He knew he might as well jump over board now, rather than risk being impaled by a stray piece of wood from his ship. It didn’t mean his life was any safer amongst the waves, he knew drowning was more of a possibility than he liked to admit, and exhaustion was easy if he panicked, and right now he couldn’t trust himself not to panic.
But when given the choice, Lind swallowed, “I’d rather take my chances.” He staggered back from the edge of the ship, feeling it lurch again under another violent churn of waves. It was only a matter of time, and he knew that dark mass was getting closer. It would hit before he wanted to, before he was ready. Lind nursed the idea of tying himself to the mast, but he had seen the body of someone who had tried to do that, and had the rope catch on something. He had been cut in half.
“I guess that only gives me one choice, doesn’t it?” He let out a short laugh and moved towards the railing again, staring down at the inky water, squinting. He’d have to swim away from the wave, but in the end he knew it wouldn’t matter. It would catch up to him just as quickly as it would the ship. He just had to get into the water. So he gripped the railing and hefted himself up, nearly stumbling backward at another lurch of violent waves, before he finally sat on the railing, crouching and looking out at the violent waves.
Was this such a good idea?
A moment of uncertainty gripped him in its icy grip, and he clenched his fists against the wood, not caring that he would have splinters by the end of this. He hated splinters, but with the possibility of death on his doorstep they seemed almost petty. No. It was petty; he stared back out at the water for a moment, eyes scanning its surface for the last time as he tried to quell the overbearing fear paralyzing his body.
He nearly got it to work when his eyes caught sight of something. It was black like the ocean appeared to be, but it was decidedly not water. Not even a rock. Lind felt bile rush up the back of his throat, the burning sensation almost too strong.
You have got to be kidding me.
He gasped at the shock of cold water hit his face, and filled his nose with the sting of salt. Somehow that form had been enough. That object, whatever it was, was not a part of the ocean, the waves, the water pelting down and blinding his vision at the most inopportune moments.
The ocean seemed intent on sinking whatever this object was. That only made Lind swim faster, hands reaching out blindly as salt water forced him to keep his eyes shut against the sting, hoping to find the object that much faster and pull it up to see-just to see.
There’s no way it could be.
His hand touched something cool and metallic, eyes squinting open for half a second. It was something black, definitely. Almost like….armor, of some kind. Lind felt his stomach sink. It was far too small to be worn by an adult, so that meant-
It -can’t be. Right? That would be too-
Cruel.
He tugged the armor closer, searching around frantically, before dunking under the water, forcing his eyes to remain open. There was no way he could see very far, as the currents rolled and swayed as violently as the wind above was so prone to.
Why did it have to be now?
Lind forced himself forward, forced his eyes to remain open until he caught something else, something distinctly human shape sinking even faster than the armor had. He had to force himself forward. His stomach was clenching and his muscles seizing in fear, again, because it had to be didn’t it?
A child.
There was a child, and they were going to die because of this storm. Self preservation instincts inside, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach be damned, he forced his legs faster against the violent current, hands outstretched. He was almost thankful for the rock. For something to stop that body from sinking farther, even if he saw blood, even if it was only for half a second. It was enough.
He felt his lungs burning, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his vision went, before the world around him, too, would go black. But it wasn’t now. It wasn’t just yet, and Lind would take full advantage, as his hands gripped a very flesh arm and tugged.
It never occurred to him that he might be too late.
He never let the thought cross his mind as he pushed against the rock, as the current carried him again. The surface was always too close, and yet too far away, the body in his arms far too heavy for its own good. Far heavier than a child should be, he knew, but it didn’t matter, he pushed harder and harder.
But he never broke the surface.
He never remembered breaking the surface.
He only remembered the shock of air, the darkness, the nervous tension threatening to take over, and the heaviness of sleep resting against his shoulders. It wasn’t just the body resting against his body. It wasn’t just the water coaxing him, letting the rough seas take over like a silent lullaby. He would never allow it.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t quite remember it. Maybe that’s why it was a few indistinct blurs running one after another in no clear sequence of order.
He just knew that there was air.
That he had at least saved the body.
It never occurred to him that he might have been too late.
But then maybe it was because he wasn’t. Lind’s lips twitched into a tired smile, a sigh of relief immediately forthcoming. He hadn’t been too late.
The body had a pulse.
***
The ocean could never be tamed. It was a wild beast that lashed out at all corners of the globe, tearing away the land with force unlike any created by man, and it never spared anyone. Or at least it never should have. It was why the sailors worshipped it, loved it, feared it. They could never hope to harness its powers so they lived day by day next to it, stealing its bounty for sustenance and hoping its mighty wrath would continue to appease them, to watch them silently from watery depths.
It had taken lives before, of those who got too cocky. Everyone had seen the remains washed up on shore-bodies bloated, ships wrecked. It sent chills down their spines, but they still continued to reap the rewards of the sea. They still continued to live by its side, and when death came they made sure to die by her side.
But even they knew when it was far too dangerous to go out. When the peak of the waves turned frothy white and crashed violently on the sandy beaches. Those stupid enough to venture out then could only hope for death.
This was the ocean.
This was langridik.
Lind knew this. He knew their calls of warning had been all but justified. He knew he was being idiotic, he knew he would die. But he had to go. Something called him out to the roaring waves, and he knew it had to be more than his stomach which had been far too empty, and his pockets the same through too many debts he still owed.
Langidrik had been even more restless lately. He had read the warnings as clear as he had seen them with his own eyes. It unnerved everyone, and he too had sensed the unease. He had wondered what caused it, he had wanted to go out and experience it. Yes he had been hungry, but now that he was here food was the last thing on his mind. Lind swallowed thickly, eyes darting out at the intense fog surrounding his ship. It wasn’t raining yet, but he could feel the wind picking up off in the distance, and the way the boat rocked didn’t ease his worries.
Yes food was the last thing on his mind. Now it was about survival.
Maybe he had been stupid to leave the shore, but he would have been just as much a fool and a debt-laden man had he stayed. He didn’t know which was worse, but now standing on the deck of his ship he knew this was the right choice. If he died very little would have been expected from this weather, but if he survived…
No. He wouldn’t think about that just yet. Lind pursed his lips into a thin line, turning on his heel towards the cabin. If there was one place that could potentially keep him safe, at least from the rain and harsh wind, that would be it. No the ship wasn’t the biggest vessel, he hadn’t the money or time to make it into something fancy as some of the other ships had been. Despite this, though, he had chosen the wood, a thick sturdy kind that was reasonably water proof under the wax coating that he had spent nearly a week applying into every nook and cranny.
The doors as well, had been enforced with steel he had bought for cheap thanks to a favor. Rust was a minimal worry, at least for right now. But he knew eventually even his ship would sink beneath the waves if a goliath wave hit. Capsizing was an issue as well. So really, he wasn’t protected at all. He knew this, too, lips turning upward only slightly, but that was always a risk, wasn’t it?
“One I’m willing to take.” He squashed his hat closer to his head, the thin straw material complying easily under the weight of his hand, and quickened his pace until he reached the cabin door, kicking it open with little regard to what might be behind it, and smiling.
He hadn’t brought nearly as much on this trip as he normally would have, after all they only created a hazard later, and deeper regret for when he eventually lost said items to the watery depths. He had, however, brought the necessities. A lone table with a map stretched out to mark his path. It had been well worn and had been of high value. A present he would hate to part with when the time came, but one he knew he needed regardless of the situation. The compass as well, had been a trusty companion, but he had many extras at home and on a clear night the stars led the way well enough. A pair of sheets and an old mattress lined one corner of the cabin. It was a makeshift bed for if the night dragged on too long, or he spent one too many nights at sea. It was easily replacable, at least.
So was the chair, something he had found and fixed up just for this purpose.
The coat hanging on the back, however, was one he refused to part with. It had been a gift, along with the map, and while it was worn and weathered it served its purpose well. Waterproof, as many of his clothes were, was the only relatively normal aspect of it. It was also extremely warm, perfect for cold nights or to keep the inevitable chill of salt water away from his skin. The pockets it held, both on the inside and on the out, were useful for carrying many things that he had to carry. So far only one item remained hidden in the pockets; a knife.
Lind wasn’t stupid, nor was he naïve.
The weather wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about on an ocean such as this. The creatures that lived beneath the turbulent surface were just as deadly. Regardless of personal experience, Lind’s hand reached up to touch the small scar on his chin, he had seen his fair share of bodies maimed beyond recognition because of them. Protection was a must if he planned to survive long enough to see the morning.
Even if he was certain he wouldn’t live even that long.
Lind walked slowly over to the rickety chair, grabbing the jacket and slipping it on before sitting down roughly. He felt safer already, as he glanced down at the map and traced with his finger the path he had taken, “It’ll still take time to get back if the storm gets worse,” he grit his teeth, tracing another line, this one in blue, “Even less likely I’ll get to Menuha,” He frowned at the crudely made border between the oceans. He never quite understood who had thought of naming these oceans, or where one stopped and the other began, but he supposed he should be thankful regardless.
Out of the six seas, after all, Langidrik was considered the deadliest.
Out of the very same six, Menuha was considered the most peaceful.
Lind let out a sigh, “it’s still a possibility,” he tapped the surface with his finger, frowning, “unless it’s being watched.” He quickly searched through one of his many pockets for the pass all sailors had been given. It ensured free travel amongst many of the oceans for trade purposes. He hoped it would work in this case as well. After all, most knew the violent tendencies of the ocean Menuha bordered, and it was almost expected that at least one ship per year would seek refuge in the calmer oceans as long as they went back eventually.
But most never make it back.
Lind shook his head, “No use thinking about that.” It would only worry him, and he needed a clear head for what came next. He couldn’t afford to be ignorant at a time like this. Sighing once more, Lind leaned back in his chair, staring up at the wood ceiling and frowning even further. He would make it back, even if it wasn’t as likely as he would have hoped.
Suddenly the boat lurched forward, sending him careening into the floor. Before he could right himself, the boat shifted backward, sending the table toppling to the ground -compass shattering at the violent contact of being tossed on the floor.
“Well, isn’t that lovely?” Lind laughed, watching the shards of glass glitter under the dim light from the only lamp in the room, which had somehow survived the impact. At least it was one less thing to worry about, Lind staggered to his feet, grabbing the map which was crumpled, but otherwise fine, and rolling it up tight, and sticking it soundly inside his jacket.
It was only a matter of time before the waves got rougher, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in his cabin when the ship capsized. But once he forced the cabin open, he wondered if it would have been a better idea to stay inside. His stomach lurched uncomfortably, as his legs stumbled forward. The fog had gotten thicker, but through it he could see waves crashing in the distance-dark masses of rolling water coming closer and closer. He bit back the fear chilling his stomach and forced his legs forward, towards the nearest railing, fingers gripping the splintering wood in a death grip as he watched-watched-watched each wave roll closer. Twice he nearly fell overboard, thrice his stomach seized in violent knots. Even with the fog, he could see something forming through the waves. He didn’t have to guess to know what it was.
The goliath, the monster wave he had been wary of. His lips twitched into a grim smile as the rain continued to pelt him with thick rain drops, sliding down the back of his neck, his hair now completely saturated. He was vaguely aware of losing his hat some time ago, but then at least that didn’t have significance to it, not when his life was at stake, at least.
He knew he might as well jump over board now, rather than risk being impaled by a stray piece of wood from his ship. It didn’t mean his life was any safer amongst the waves, he knew drowning was more of a possibility than he liked to admit, and exhaustion was easy if he panicked, and right now he couldn’t trust himself not to panic.
But when given the choice, Lind swallowed, “I’d rather take my chances.” He staggered back from the edge of the ship, feeling it lurch again under another violent churn of waves. It was only a matter of time, and he knew that dark mass was getting closer. It would hit before he wanted to, before he was ready. Lind nursed the idea of tying himself to the mast, but he had seen the body of someone who had tried to do that, and had the rope catch on something. He had been cut in half.
“I guess that only gives me one choice, doesn’t it?” He let out a short laugh and moved towards the railing again, staring down at the inky water, squinting. He’d have to swim away from the wave, but in the end he knew it wouldn’t matter. It would catch up to him just as quickly as it would the ship. He just had to get into the water. So he gripped the railing and hefted himself up, nearly stumbling backward at another lurch of violent waves, before he finally sat on the railing, crouching and looking out at the violent waves.
Was this such a good idea?
A moment of uncertainty gripped him in its icy grip, and he clenched his fists against the wood, not caring that he would have splinters by the end of this. He hated splinters, but with the possibility of death on his doorstep they seemed almost petty. No. It was petty; he stared back out at the water for a moment, eyes scanning its surface for the last time as he tried to quell the overbearing fear paralyzing his body.
He nearly got it to work when his eyes caught sight of something. It was black like the ocean appeared to be, but it was decidedly not water. Not even a rock. Lind felt bile rush up the back of his throat, the burning sensation almost too strong.
You have got to be kidding me.
He gasped at the shock of cold water hit his face, and filled his nose with the sting of salt. Somehow that form had been enough. That object, whatever it was, was not a part of the ocean, the waves, the water pelting down and blinding his vision at the most inopportune moments.
The ocean seemed intent on sinking whatever this object was. That only made Lind swim faster, hands reaching out blindly as salt water forced him to keep his eyes shut against the sting, hoping to find the object that much faster and pull it up to see-just to see.
There’s no way it could be.
His hand touched something cool and metallic, eyes squinting open for half a second. It was something black, definitely. Almost like….armor, of some kind. Lind felt his stomach sink. It was far too small to be worn by an adult, so that meant-
It -can’t be. Right? That would be too-
Cruel.
He tugged the armor closer, searching around frantically, before dunking under the water, forcing his eyes to remain open. There was no way he could see very far, as the currents rolled and swayed as violently as the wind above was so prone to.
Why did it have to be now?
Lind forced himself forward, forced his eyes to remain open until he caught something else, something distinctly human shape sinking even faster than the armor had. He had to force himself forward. His stomach was clenching and his muscles seizing in fear, again, because it had to be didn’t it?
A child.
There was a child, and they were going to die because of this storm. Self preservation instincts inside, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach be damned, he forced his legs faster against the violent current, hands outstretched. He was almost thankful for the rock. For something to stop that body from sinking farther, even if he saw blood, even if it was only for half a second. It was enough.
He felt his lungs burning, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his vision went, before the world around him, too, would go black. But it wasn’t now. It wasn’t just yet, and Lind would take full advantage, as his hands gripped a very flesh arm and tugged.
It never occurred to him that he might be too late.
He never let the thought cross his mind as he pushed against the rock, as the current carried him again. The surface was always too close, and yet too far away, the body in his arms far too heavy for its own good. Far heavier than a child should be, he knew, but it didn’t matter, he pushed harder and harder.
But he never broke the surface.
He never remembered breaking the surface.
He only remembered the shock of air, the darkness, the nervous tension threatening to take over, and the heaviness of sleep resting against his shoulders. It wasn’t just the body resting against his body. It wasn’t just the water coaxing him, letting the rough seas take over like a silent lullaby. He would never allow it.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t quite remember it. Maybe that’s why it was a few indistinct blurs running one after another in no clear sequence of order.
He just knew that there was air.
That he had at least saved the body.
It never occurred to him that he might have been too late.
But then maybe it was because he wasn’t. Lind’s lips twitched into a tired smile, a sigh of relief immediately forthcoming. He hadn’t been too late.
The body had a pulse.
***