Primeval Fic: Prelude To The Storm (Warning: Dark Themes)
Title: Prelude To The Storm
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 3563
Characters: Stephen Hart, OCs.
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: For my Primeval Bingo (card 9) prompt: Wild Card - One of the Dispossessed. Thanks go to fififolle for the beta, cheers m'dear. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Warnings: AU Fantasy-Horror - Dark Themes. Ye have been warned!
It was the 350th anniversary of the liberation of Oskethia, and the capital city of New Essencyr was filled to overflowing with both city-folk and those from further afield keen to celebrate. It certainly appeared to Stevin, as he peered into the smoky and noisy taproom of 'The Mermaid and Oyster', that most of them were trying to cram into that room, with local and stranger alike packed cheek-to-jowl.
Although he knew his father would be pleased that the family inn was heaving, Stevin would have preferred for it to be quieter. He wasn't one for crowds, much preferring the company of animals and the open air to people and the city. He found himself wishing he was already old enough to be apprenticed to Maarkis Haayis, a forester of the Harrowwoods and the Deeping Fields, rather than being hemmed in by the city. He sighed, but that would be in the summer and for now, he was stuck helping out in the taproom rather than enjoying nature. Stevin smiled slightly, and come winter, he would no doubt be wishing he was back in the cosy, crowded inn rather than braving the winter storms. As Mistress Agnnis liked to say, people always wished for what they thought they wanted most, rather than enjoying what they had while they had it. Stevin shook his head and scattered his wool-gathering, reluctantly walking back into the sweltering kitchen to lend a hand. He emerged moments later, his arms laden with platters of stew and mugs of ale, and attempted to weave his way through the crowded room to deliver them to the correct customer.
After making several trips from the frantic activity of the taproom to the even more frantic activity of the kitchen, Stevin ducked into the shadowy alcove beneath the stairs for a breather. He took the opportunity to observed the clientele, curious now he was concealed and could watch unobserved. He smiled when he noticed Gylbeet Aatwyck, a blacksmith large enough to put a bear to shame, playing checkers with the local midwife, Agnnis Laakmaan, in their normal spot near the bar. He frowned when he noticed two men behind them, propping up the bar and apparently betting on the outcome of the game, for they appeared to be Northerners, maybe from Caelisarra or the Hundred Kingdoms even further north. He knew that no Northerner would risk being stuck in Oskethia over winter, after all, it was a common cause of bar-fights in the inn. The Oskethians called the Northerners cowards for fleeing Oskethia for the Dark King was long gone and the the Northerns called the Oskethians foolish risk-takers for staying trapped by winter storms south of The Wall when the Dark King might rise once more.
Stevin almost jumped when someone stepped into the alcove, spinning to find his father standing beside him. “Sorry, father,” he stammered.
“Tis fine, lad,” his father reassured him. He nodded towards the two Northerners who had gained Stevin's attention and added, “Sailors off the 'Pale Horizon' from Caelisarra, bound for Morgard at first light. Their captain be picking up a few last minute cargoes before they set sail.”
“But there's a storm coming,” Stevin said, surprised that anyone would risk sailing at this time of year.
“Damn good weather eye you've got there, Stevin,” his father commented. “Be more of an asset as a sailor than a forester.”
“Yes, father,” Stevin murmured in agreement, knowing that for all their disdain of Northerners and their 'superstitious' fears, every Oskethian parent, including his father, preferred their children to be sailors and near Water, rather than in a land-based profession far from it. “I best be back to the kitchen, father,” Stevin muttered, not wishing to restart the discussion over his future, it had taken him long enough to convince his parents to allow him to apprentice to Maarkis rather than sign up on a ship.
His next load of stew and ale were for Gylbeet and Agnnis and took him close to the Northerners still watching the game. Both sailors were solid, well-built men and they didn't look the superstitious sort to Stevin, willing to risk being shipwrecked rather than be harbour-bound, so he took the risk of speaking to them. “Will you really sail on the tide?”
The older of the two men glanced at him, sucking in a pipe-full of smoke and nodded. “Aye, lad. All you Oskethians should if ye knew what was good for you.”
The other Northerner rolled his eyes before shushing his companion. “Don't start, Lok.”
“Ye just don't want to be in a jail cell when the ship weighs anchor tomorrow, Edem,” the older man, Lok, said, glaring at his pipe before tapping the contents out and refilling it.
“No,” Edem replied. “I don't want to have to explain to the captain why you've been locked up again, Lok Gebbs.”
Stevin looked from one Northerner sailor to the other and started to back away, having no wish to become involved in their argument. He almost yelped when his arm was grabbed, before he heard Gylbeet's voice in his ear. “Careful there, young Stevin,” Gylbeet said. “Mistress Agnnis won't be happy if you knock the board.”
“Sorry, Mistress Agnnis,” Stevin murmured as he kept an eye on the Northerners.
“Don't worry about them, lad,” Agnnis spoke, her voice soft but firm. “No Northerner will risk being locked up this close to winter.” She raised her voice, “Lok Gebbs, Edem Aevens, shut up, drink up and watch the game.”
“Sorry, Agnnis,” Edem murmured, elbowing Lok when his fellow sailor remained silent.
“Aye, Agnnis,” Lok nodded, although he didn't seem best pleased as he lit his pipe and puffed on it.
Stevin was impressed that the two Northerners listened to Agnnis, but then again, everyone seemed to listen to the little, white-haired midwife. He was curious what would happened next, but his name was called and Stevin made his excuses as he returned to help out in the kitchen.
***
Stevin huddled under his bedding in his little attic room and tried to sleep, but the storm howling outside his bedroom window wasn't the only thing keeping him awake. He could hear dogs' howling in the quiet between the gusts of wind and rain pounding onto the slate roof. He shivered as he recalled what Maarkis had told him last summer - that animals knew when danger, whether storm or fire or evil, approached. His thoughts turned to the Dark King and he muttered a quick pray to the Elements to keep his family safe this night, sketching the Warding sign as he did.
He jolted awake, figuring that he must have finally fallen asleep, and peered around his room, wandering what had woken him. His heart hammered in his chest when his door creaked open to reveal someone - something - silhouetted by the candles flickering in the hallway. Whatever it was loomed towards him and Stevin scrambled backwards in his bed until his back was pressed against the timber wall, his hand searching for something, anything to defend himself with.
“Stevin!”
His father's voice cut through Stevin's growing panic and he gasped as he began to breathe once more. “Father?”
“Get up, boy,” his father said. “We've got to leave. Now!”
Stevin peered at his father, his worries growing once more when he realised his father was dressed for travelling. “Father? What's happening?”
“Not now, Stevin,” his father almost snapped, but Stevin could hear the fear underlying the words.
“Don't scare the boy, Petee,” Stevin's mother said as she hurried into the room and Stevin realised she too was dressed for travelling. “Now, Stevin, listen to you father. Get dressed for travelling and we'll explain later.”
Stevin looked at the worried expression on his mother's face and replied, “Yes, mother.” Whatever was happening had to be serious and his thoughts turned to the words of that Northerner sailor, Lok. He shook his head, wool-gathering and wondering what was going on wouldn't give him answers. His parents said they would tell him and they would, for in the summer he'd be a man, old enough at fourteen to be apprenticed. He quickly dressed before pausing for a moment, wondering if he should pack anything before his gaze fell upon the dagger Maarkis had gifted him in the summer. He quickly tucked it into his boot before rushing downstairs at his father's yell.
***
As soon as Stevin stepped outside the inn he was soaked to the skin and surrounded by chaos, Halewater Street was full of people shoving and pushing and seemingly not knowing where to go. Stevin noticed some were heading towards Halewater Docks, while others seemed to be moving towards North Road, towards the North Gate, or to Plaza Street and the Council.
Stevin stared one way than the other, wondering what could have panicked so many people and coming up with only one possible answer. He almost jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder before his father's voice steadied him as the man turned him towards the docks. “Stevin! Listen to me, son. If we get separated, make for the 'Pale Horizon',” his father told him. “Aeleenae Staewert, her Captain, owes me a favour. Tell her you're Petee Haart's son.”
“What's happening?” Stevin asked, not really expecting an answer.
“Later, Stevin,” his mother told him. “Once we're onboard the ship.”
Stevin noticed her fearful look towards the south and made the same Warding sign against evil he had made only earlier that night. He shivered and not from the chill wind which cut through his wet travelling clothes. It could be... the Dark King was a thousand years dead, wasn't he?
***
Stevin could hardly see with the wind-tossed rain driving into his eyes, could hardly hear with the wind and the cries of the crowd. The cobbles were slick beneath his feet and it took all his concentration to stay on his feet as he was buffeted by wind and rain and people. He felt his hand torn from his mother's grasp and almost slipped as he tried to find her in the crowd. He felt a hand grab his shirt and almost hoist him from the ground. “Mind your step there, master Stevin,” Gylbeet rumbled as he set Stevin firmly on his feet.
“Thanks, master Gylbeet,” Stevin managed to gasp as his breathing slowly calmed. “We need to get to the 'Pale Horizon',” he shouted at his companion, only hoping that his parents had reached the ship themselves.
“That we do, young Stevin,” Gylbeet agreed, before taking a firm grip on Stevin's arm and ploughing through the jostling crowd, with Stevin stumbling and slipping in his wake.
Stevin smiled when he spotted the masts of the ships still tied up in the docks, and was even more relieved when the slick cobbles changed to the wooden slats of the dock itself. He strained his eyes to read the names on the ships and called out to Gylbeet when he spotted 'Pale Horizon'. He hoped, no, he prayed to the Elements, that his parents were already on board and not lost in the crowd, searching for him. He cried out when Gylbeet suddenly stopped and moved away from the ship, his expression only clearing when the blacksmith reached into the crowd and snagged someone else who had slipped over and was in danger of being trampled by the heedless crowd. He quickly recognised the white-haired woman as Agnnis, and helped Gylbeet steady the old woman on her feet.
“Thank ye, lads,” Agnnis said, her voice quivering in exhaustion.
A sudden cut off scream, similar to one he had heard from a pig being slaughtered, had Stevin turning towards the city to see what was happening. He heard Gylbeet curse and waited for Agnnis to berate him, but instead found himself grabbed once more and firmly dragged towards the waiting ships. More screams sounded and Stevin tried to twist around to see, trusting Gylbeet to keep him on his feet. The crowd turned from a jostling mass all heading in one direction to chaos as the crowd split, as if it had become a maddened beast uncertain of which way to run to escape its hunter.
A dense, heavy fog rolled down Halewater Street, flowing like treacle between and around people's feet and rising ever so slowly up their legs as if to drag them to the ground. A miasma settled on the docks, creeping through the crowd before it wrapped itself around Stevin, choking him as the stench of death and decay filled his lungs. He heard more screams, cut off by gurgles and the cries of the crowd as they begged the Elements for aid. Over it all, he could heard the heavy tramp-tramp-tramp as if armoured warriors approached, all in step with each other and as unstoppable as the wind and rain which lashed everything and everyone at the docks.
“Stevin!”
The sound of his father's voice broke the hold the footsteps and fog had over Stevin and he turned towards the 'Pale Horizon', shaking both Gylbeet and Agnnis when neither moved, as if rooted to the spot by the horror that was coming towards them. He finally managed to get them to move and, much as he wanted to run up the gangplank into his mother's arms, he knew he had to stay with Agnnis and get her onboard the ship first. A sailor Stevin recognised from last night helped Stevin steady Agnnis as exhaustion took the old woman and he heard her mutter, “Thank ye, Stevin, Edem.”
Stevin wanted to bury himself in his mother's embrace, but she was busy looking after Agnnis and, well, he'd be a man in the summer. Instead he joined Gylbeet and the sailors at the gangplank, helping those who staggered onto the ship to the hold or cabins, and when they were full, to any nook or cranny on the ship.
He returned to the gangplank from carrying a toddler to a overcrowded cabin and stopped to stare at what was coming towards the docks. He heard a firm voice bellow over the cries rising from the ship and docks, ordering the crew to cast off. He watched as the crew scurried about as they obeyed the voice - the captain, Stevin assumed - cutting any rope free which was too swollen by rain to untie, while others helped the last stragglers onboard. He watched as Edem and Lok both struggled to untie a knot and heard Gylbeet mutter something before he grabbed a length of wood and stepped back onto the docks. Stevin knew the blacksmith was buying the crew more time as he hefted his improvised weapon and faced the approaching foe.
Almost crushed against the railings by the press of bodies on the deck, Stevin could only watch as the ship slowly pulled free of the docks. He watched as men and women jumped the slowly widening gap in a last ditch attempt to escape, as they threw their children at the ship in the hope that someone would catch them. Some made it, but many more didn't and slipped beneath the waves, but still they tried, fear and terror etched on their faces. They jumped into the storm-tossed water when the distance was too great to leap, Stevin didn't know if they hoped to swim to the ship even in the storm or if they preferred to drown in Water's embrace rather than face the horror which awaited them on the docks.
He felt the ship shudder and lurch as the sailors raised as much sail as they could risk in the storm that mercilessly lashed at them, attempting to drive them back onto the docks. He could hear the captain's voice as she harangued her crew to put their backs into it and the crew redoubled their efforts, desperate to put as much distance between them and the slaughter unfolding before Stevin's horrified eyes as they could. Wave and wind buffeted the ship and Stevin could just make out the wails to the Elements to save them and send them safely out to sea above the creak of the timbers and the bellows of the captain and crew.
Stevin found himself mesmerised by what was happening on the docks, unable to turn away even as his guts churned at the sight. He watched, committing the faces of those left behind to memory, the terror on their faces, the desperation as those who hadn't yet given into despair sought to escape. He watched as some, such as Gylbeet, faced their foes and fought, only to be cut down like so much wheat before the reaper-man. He heard the cries and wails of those left behind on the docks as they realised there was nowhere to run. He watched as some leapt into the water, preferring to drown in Water's embrace rather than face the fate they knew awaited for them at the Dark King's hand. And it had to be the Dark King, for only he would command such an army. Stevin swallowed bile, bowing his head and cursing his ancestors for their hubris for thinking the Dark King was dead, as the ship finally made headway and left New Essencyr, the City of Dreams, to the nightmares which now stalked its streets.
***
The storm raged for days, the sky as black in the day as it was in the night, and Stevin had begun to fear that the Dark King's powers held sway even here, even though Stevin knew that monster held no power over Water. He was tired and grief-sicken, wet and hungry, staring hollow-eyed at the scores of survivors crammed onto the ship, all that could be saved from New Essencyr. He had to wonder if anyone else had escaped on the other ships tied up at the docks and if so, how they were faring. For at least the 'Pale Horizon' had expected to sail on the next tide and had been fully loaded with supplies, even if they were stretched thin by the sheer number of people stuffed into her hull.
The wind lashed at the ship, tearing the sails until the captain had ordered them stowed. The waves crashed over the railings, making the deck treacherous as the seawater mixed with the rain and hail the storm unloaded upon them. Exhaustion and exposure claimed victims, the dead given a quick send-off to Water's embrace. Others were swept overboard, blown over by the gusting wind or slipped to their deaths on the icy deck, although Stevin had to wonder if some had jumped, having given in to grief and despair.
The crew had their hands full just keeping the ship heading north and away from the coast. Those few ties they'd been blown towards the coast were burnt in Stevin's memory forever - the smoke from burning villages or towns as man and beast attempted to flee north before the unstoppable tide of the Dark King's forces, a tide which Stevin knew - hoped - would only be stopped when it broke on the The Wall itself. Stevin also know most of those who fled north would die in sight of safety, for The Wall had few gates and man and beast would have to funnel through them.
He startled at a loud crack and spin, only just diving out the way when a spar plunged towards the deck. It was luck they were not holed, for Stevin knew that it would be a death sentence - or worse - if they were forced to beach. He rose, forcing his shaking limbs to move, and lent what strength he had to the crew.
***
Stevin woke, huddled for warmth with his parents, soaked through but staring up at a blue sky through the tattered remnants of the sails. He staggered to the railings when the battered crew let out whoops and stared at the magnificent city before him. He knew they'd made it through the storm and, he hoped, north of The Wall, but how far had those winds driven them?
“Where are we?” he called out to the nearest crewman.
“That is the mightiest city in the North, lad,” a woman's voice replied and Stevin spun to look up at the captain of the ship. “That there is Morgard, the Shield of the North.”
“Captain Staewert!”
Edem cried out, drawing the captain's attention and Stevin turned his towards the now peaceful-looking south. He had to wonder if they were the only ones who had survived the Dark King's attack, if they were all that was now left of Oskethia? No, surely some of the other ships must have made it? Some who had fled on foot or horseback? They couldn't be all that was left of the hundreds of thousands who had called Oskethia home?
The crew still cheered but Stevin noticed that no Oskethian joined them, each knew they had nothing but the sodden clothing they wore to their name. That they would have to struggle and scrap to make themselves a new life north of The Wall, in Caelisarra or the lands even further north. Shivering in the cold winter breeze, Stevin turned to face south once more and swore to the Elements that one day he would be back and the Dark King would rue that day.
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 3563
Characters: Stephen Hart, OCs.
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: For my Primeval Bingo (card 9) prompt: Wild Card - One of the Dispossessed. Thanks go to fififolle for the beta, cheers m'dear. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Warnings: AU Fantasy-Horror - Dark Themes. Ye have been warned!
It was the 350th anniversary of the liberation of Oskethia, and the capital city of New Essencyr was filled to overflowing with both city-folk and those from further afield keen to celebrate. It certainly appeared to Stevin, as he peered into the smoky and noisy taproom of 'The Mermaid and Oyster', that most of them were trying to cram into that room, with local and stranger alike packed cheek-to-jowl.
Although he knew his father would be pleased that the family inn was heaving, Stevin would have preferred for it to be quieter. He wasn't one for crowds, much preferring the company of animals and the open air to people and the city. He found himself wishing he was already old enough to be apprenticed to Maarkis Haayis, a forester of the Harrowwoods and the Deeping Fields, rather than being hemmed in by the city. He sighed, but that would be in the summer and for now, he was stuck helping out in the taproom rather than enjoying nature. Stevin smiled slightly, and come winter, he would no doubt be wishing he was back in the cosy, crowded inn rather than braving the winter storms. As Mistress Agnnis liked to say, people always wished for what they thought they wanted most, rather than enjoying what they had while they had it. Stevin shook his head and scattered his wool-gathering, reluctantly walking back into the sweltering kitchen to lend a hand. He emerged moments later, his arms laden with platters of stew and mugs of ale, and attempted to weave his way through the crowded room to deliver them to the correct customer.
After making several trips from the frantic activity of the taproom to the even more frantic activity of the kitchen, Stevin ducked into the shadowy alcove beneath the stairs for a breather. He took the opportunity to observed the clientele, curious now he was concealed and could watch unobserved. He smiled when he noticed Gylbeet Aatwyck, a blacksmith large enough to put a bear to shame, playing checkers with the local midwife, Agnnis Laakmaan, in their normal spot near the bar. He frowned when he noticed two men behind them, propping up the bar and apparently betting on the outcome of the game, for they appeared to be Northerners, maybe from Caelisarra or the Hundred Kingdoms even further north. He knew that no Northerner would risk being stuck in Oskethia over winter, after all, it was a common cause of bar-fights in the inn. The Oskethians called the Northerners cowards for fleeing Oskethia for the Dark King was long gone and the the Northerns called the Oskethians foolish risk-takers for staying trapped by winter storms south of The Wall when the Dark King might rise once more.
Stevin almost jumped when someone stepped into the alcove, spinning to find his father standing beside him. “Sorry, father,” he stammered.
“Tis fine, lad,” his father reassured him. He nodded towards the two Northerners who had gained Stevin's attention and added, “Sailors off the 'Pale Horizon' from Caelisarra, bound for Morgard at first light. Their captain be picking up a few last minute cargoes before they set sail.”
“But there's a storm coming,” Stevin said, surprised that anyone would risk sailing at this time of year.
“Damn good weather eye you've got there, Stevin,” his father commented. “Be more of an asset as a sailor than a forester.”
“Yes, father,” Stevin murmured in agreement, knowing that for all their disdain of Northerners and their 'superstitious' fears, every Oskethian parent, including his father, preferred their children to be sailors and near Water, rather than in a land-based profession far from it. “I best be back to the kitchen, father,” Stevin muttered, not wishing to restart the discussion over his future, it had taken him long enough to convince his parents to allow him to apprentice to Maarkis rather than sign up on a ship.
His next load of stew and ale were for Gylbeet and Agnnis and took him close to the Northerners still watching the game. Both sailors were solid, well-built men and they didn't look the superstitious sort to Stevin, willing to risk being shipwrecked rather than be harbour-bound, so he took the risk of speaking to them. “Will you really sail on the tide?”
The older of the two men glanced at him, sucking in a pipe-full of smoke and nodded. “Aye, lad. All you Oskethians should if ye knew what was good for you.”
The other Northerner rolled his eyes before shushing his companion. “Don't start, Lok.”
“Ye just don't want to be in a jail cell when the ship weighs anchor tomorrow, Edem,” the older man, Lok, said, glaring at his pipe before tapping the contents out and refilling it.
“No,” Edem replied. “I don't want to have to explain to the captain why you've been locked up again, Lok Gebbs.”
Stevin looked from one Northerner sailor to the other and started to back away, having no wish to become involved in their argument. He almost yelped when his arm was grabbed, before he heard Gylbeet's voice in his ear. “Careful there, young Stevin,” Gylbeet said. “Mistress Agnnis won't be happy if you knock the board.”
“Sorry, Mistress Agnnis,” Stevin murmured as he kept an eye on the Northerners.
“Don't worry about them, lad,” Agnnis spoke, her voice soft but firm. “No Northerner will risk being locked up this close to winter.” She raised her voice, “Lok Gebbs, Edem Aevens, shut up, drink up and watch the game.”
“Sorry, Agnnis,” Edem murmured, elbowing Lok when his fellow sailor remained silent.
“Aye, Agnnis,” Lok nodded, although he didn't seem best pleased as he lit his pipe and puffed on it.
Stevin was impressed that the two Northerners listened to Agnnis, but then again, everyone seemed to listen to the little, white-haired midwife. He was curious what would happened next, but his name was called and Stevin made his excuses as he returned to help out in the kitchen.
***
Stevin huddled under his bedding in his little attic room and tried to sleep, but the storm howling outside his bedroom window wasn't the only thing keeping him awake. He could hear dogs' howling in the quiet between the gusts of wind and rain pounding onto the slate roof. He shivered as he recalled what Maarkis had told him last summer - that animals knew when danger, whether storm or fire or evil, approached. His thoughts turned to the Dark King and he muttered a quick pray to the Elements to keep his family safe this night, sketching the Warding sign as he did.
He jolted awake, figuring that he must have finally fallen asleep, and peered around his room, wandering what had woken him. His heart hammered in his chest when his door creaked open to reveal someone - something - silhouetted by the candles flickering in the hallway. Whatever it was loomed towards him and Stevin scrambled backwards in his bed until his back was pressed against the timber wall, his hand searching for something, anything to defend himself with.
“Stevin!”
His father's voice cut through Stevin's growing panic and he gasped as he began to breathe once more. “Father?”
“Get up, boy,” his father said. “We've got to leave. Now!”
Stevin peered at his father, his worries growing once more when he realised his father was dressed for travelling. “Father? What's happening?”
“Not now, Stevin,” his father almost snapped, but Stevin could hear the fear underlying the words.
“Don't scare the boy, Petee,” Stevin's mother said as she hurried into the room and Stevin realised she too was dressed for travelling. “Now, Stevin, listen to you father. Get dressed for travelling and we'll explain later.”
Stevin looked at the worried expression on his mother's face and replied, “Yes, mother.” Whatever was happening had to be serious and his thoughts turned to the words of that Northerner sailor, Lok. He shook his head, wool-gathering and wondering what was going on wouldn't give him answers. His parents said they would tell him and they would, for in the summer he'd be a man, old enough at fourteen to be apprenticed. He quickly dressed before pausing for a moment, wondering if he should pack anything before his gaze fell upon the dagger Maarkis had gifted him in the summer. He quickly tucked it into his boot before rushing downstairs at his father's yell.
***
As soon as Stevin stepped outside the inn he was soaked to the skin and surrounded by chaos, Halewater Street was full of people shoving and pushing and seemingly not knowing where to go. Stevin noticed some were heading towards Halewater Docks, while others seemed to be moving towards North Road, towards the North Gate, or to Plaza Street and the Council.
Stevin stared one way than the other, wondering what could have panicked so many people and coming up with only one possible answer. He almost jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder before his father's voice steadied him as the man turned him towards the docks. “Stevin! Listen to me, son. If we get separated, make for the 'Pale Horizon',” his father told him. “Aeleenae Staewert, her Captain, owes me a favour. Tell her you're Petee Haart's son.”
“What's happening?” Stevin asked, not really expecting an answer.
“Later, Stevin,” his mother told him. “Once we're onboard the ship.”
Stevin noticed her fearful look towards the south and made the same Warding sign against evil he had made only earlier that night. He shivered and not from the chill wind which cut through his wet travelling clothes. It could be... the Dark King was a thousand years dead, wasn't he?
***
Stevin could hardly see with the wind-tossed rain driving into his eyes, could hardly hear with the wind and the cries of the crowd. The cobbles were slick beneath his feet and it took all his concentration to stay on his feet as he was buffeted by wind and rain and people. He felt his hand torn from his mother's grasp and almost slipped as he tried to find her in the crowd. He felt a hand grab his shirt and almost hoist him from the ground. “Mind your step there, master Stevin,” Gylbeet rumbled as he set Stevin firmly on his feet.
“Thanks, master Gylbeet,” Stevin managed to gasp as his breathing slowly calmed. “We need to get to the 'Pale Horizon',” he shouted at his companion, only hoping that his parents had reached the ship themselves.
“That we do, young Stevin,” Gylbeet agreed, before taking a firm grip on Stevin's arm and ploughing through the jostling crowd, with Stevin stumbling and slipping in his wake.
Stevin smiled when he spotted the masts of the ships still tied up in the docks, and was even more relieved when the slick cobbles changed to the wooden slats of the dock itself. He strained his eyes to read the names on the ships and called out to Gylbeet when he spotted 'Pale Horizon'. He hoped, no, he prayed to the Elements, that his parents were already on board and not lost in the crowd, searching for him. He cried out when Gylbeet suddenly stopped and moved away from the ship, his expression only clearing when the blacksmith reached into the crowd and snagged someone else who had slipped over and was in danger of being trampled by the heedless crowd. He quickly recognised the white-haired woman as Agnnis, and helped Gylbeet steady the old woman on her feet.
“Thank ye, lads,” Agnnis said, her voice quivering in exhaustion.
A sudden cut off scream, similar to one he had heard from a pig being slaughtered, had Stevin turning towards the city to see what was happening. He heard Gylbeet curse and waited for Agnnis to berate him, but instead found himself grabbed once more and firmly dragged towards the waiting ships. More screams sounded and Stevin tried to twist around to see, trusting Gylbeet to keep him on his feet. The crowd turned from a jostling mass all heading in one direction to chaos as the crowd split, as if it had become a maddened beast uncertain of which way to run to escape its hunter.
A dense, heavy fog rolled down Halewater Street, flowing like treacle between and around people's feet and rising ever so slowly up their legs as if to drag them to the ground. A miasma settled on the docks, creeping through the crowd before it wrapped itself around Stevin, choking him as the stench of death and decay filled his lungs. He heard more screams, cut off by gurgles and the cries of the crowd as they begged the Elements for aid. Over it all, he could heard the heavy tramp-tramp-tramp as if armoured warriors approached, all in step with each other and as unstoppable as the wind and rain which lashed everything and everyone at the docks.
“Stevin!”
The sound of his father's voice broke the hold the footsteps and fog had over Stevin and he turned towards the 'Pale Horizon', shaking both Gylbeet and Agnnis when neither moved, as if rooted to the spot by the horror that was coming towards them. He finally managed to get them to move and, much as he wanted to run up the gangplank into his mother's arms, he knew he had to stay with Agnnis and get her onboard the ship first. A sailor Stevin recognised from last night helped Stevin steady Agnnis as exhaustion took the old woman and he heard her mutter, “Thank ye, Stevin, Edem.”
Stevin wanted to bury himself in his mother's embrace, but she was busy looking after Agnnis and, well, he'd be a man in the summer. Instead he joined Gylbeet and the sailors at the gangplank, helping those who staggered onto the ship to the hold or cabins, and when they were full, to any nook or cranny on the ship.
He returned to the gangplank from carrying a toddler to a overcrowded cabin and stopped to stare at what was coming towards the docks. He heard a firm voice bellow over the cries rising from the ship and docks, ordering the crew to cast off. He watched as the crew scurried about as they obeyed the voice - the captain, Stevin assumed - cutting any rope free which was too swollen by rain to untie, while others helped the last stragglers onboard. He watched as Edem and Lok both struggled to untie a knot and heard Gylbeet mutter something before he grabbed a length of wood and stepped back onto the docks. Stevin knew the blacksmith was buying the crew more time as he hefted his improvised weapon and faced the approaching foe.
Almost crushed against the railings by the press of bodies on the deck, Stevin could only watch as the ship slowly pulled free of the docks. He watched as men and women jumped the slowly widening gap in a last ditch attempt to escape, as they threw their children at the ship in the hope that someone would catch them. Some made it, but many more didn't and slipped beneath the waves, but still they tried, fear and terror etched on their faces. They jumped into the storm-tossed water when the distance was too great to leap, Stevin didn't know if they hoped to swim to the ship even in the storm or if they preferred to drown in Water's embrace rather than face the horror which awaited them on the docks.
He felt the ship shudder and lurch as the sailors raised as much sail as they could risk in the storm that mercilessly lashed at them, attempting to drive them back onto the docks. He could hear the captain's voice as she harangued her crew to put their backs into it and the crew redoubled their efforts, desperate to put as much distance between them and the slaughter unfolding before Stevin's horrified eyes as they could. Wave and wind buffeted the ship and Stevin could just make out the wails to the Elements to save them and send them safely out to sea above the creak of the timbers and the bellows of the captain and crew.
Stevin found himself mesmerised by what was happening on the docks, unable to turn away even as his guts churned at the sight. He watched, committing the faces of those left behind to memory, the terror on their faces, the desperation as those who hadn't yet given into despair sought to escape. He watched as some, such as Gylbeet, faced their foes and fought, only to be cut down like so much wheat before the reaper-man. He heard the cries and wails of those left behind on the docks as they realised there was nowhere to run. He watched as some leapt into the water, preferring to drown in Water's embrace rather than face the fate they knew awaited for them at the Dark King's hand. And it had to be the Dark King, for only he would command such an army. Stevin swallowed bile, bowing his head and cursing his ancestors for their hubris for thinking the Dark King was dead, as the ship finally made headway and left New Essencyr, the City of Dreams, to the nightmares which now stalked its streets.
***
The storm raged for days, the sky as black in the day as it was in the night, and Stevin had begun to fear that the Dark King's powers held sway even here, even though Stevin knew that monster held no power over Water. He was tired and grief-sicken, wet and hungry, staring hollow-eyed at the scores of survivors crammed onto the ship, all that could be saved from New Essencyr. He had to wonder if anyone else had escaped on the other ships tied up at the docks and if so, how they were faring. For at least the 'Pale Horizon' had expected to sail on the next tide and had been fully loaded with supplies, even if they were stretched thin by the sheer number of people stuffed into her hull.
The wind lashed at the ship, tearing the sails until the captain had ordered them stowed. The waves crashed over the railings, making the deck treacherous as the seawater mixed with the rain and hail the storm unloaded upon them. Exhaustion and exposure claimed victims, the dead given a quick send-off to Water's embrace. Others were swept overboard, blown over by the gusting wind or slipped to their deaths on the icy deck, although Stevin had to wonder if some had jumped, having given in to grief and despair.
The crew had their hands full just keeping the ship heading north and away from the coast. Those few ties they'd been blown towards the coast were burnt in Stevin's memory forever - the smoke from burning villages or towns as man and beast attempted to flee north before the unstoppable tide of the Dark King's forces, a tide which Stevin knew - hoped - would only be stopped when it broke on the The Wall itself. Stevin also know most of those who fled north would die in sight of safety, for The Wall had few gates and man and beast would have to funnel through them.
He startled at a loud crack and spin, only just diving out the way when a spar plunged towards the deck. It was luck they were not holed, for Stevin knew that it would be a death sentence - or worse - if they were forced to beach. He rose, forcing his shaking limbs to move, and lent what strength he had to the crew.
***
Stevin woke, huddled for warmth with his parents, soaked through but staring up at a blue sky through the tattered remnants of the sails. He staggered to the railings when the battered crew let out whoops and stared at the magnificent city before him. He knew they'd made it through the storm and, he hoped, north of The Wall, but how far had those winds driven them?
“Where are we?” he called out to the nearest crewman.
“That is the mightiest city in the North, lad,” a woman's voice replied and Stevin spun to look up at the captain of the ship. “That there is Morgard, the Shield of the North.”
“Captain Staewert!”
Edem cried out, drawing the captain's attention and Stevin turned his towards the now peaceful-looking south. He had to wonder if they were the only ones who had survived the Dark King's attack, if they were all that was now left of Oskethia? No, surely some of the other ships must have made it? Some who had fled on foot or horseback? They couldn't be all that was left of the hundreds of thousands who had called Oskethia home?
The crew still cheered but Stevin noticed that no Oskethian joined them, each knew they had nothing but the sodden clothing they wore to their name. That they would have to struggle and scrap to make themselves a new life north of The Wall, in Caelisarra or the lands even further north. Shivering in the cold winter breeze, Stevin turned to face south once more and swore to the Elements that one day he would be back and the Dark King would rue that day.