Hello, all! Once again I do not own anything DC. I apologize if Stewart is a little OOC, I don't know his character's backstory very well at all as he is not one of my favorite leaguers so I kind of tailored it to my needs. If I made any critical errors please let me know so I can weave in corrections as they were unintentional. Thanks!
As the darkness as black as pitch oozed across the decks the temperature sharply plummeted. All sound vanished as even the birds' morning cries and the gentle waves quieted. Bruce's fingers felt like they were crafted to the helm as the warmth trickled from them. Finally he managed to pry his fingers of his left hand free and reached down to his new magical belt. Please Lucius, let your magic be true. He opened a pocket and reached inside, feeling a candle and flint slide into his waiting grasp.
Bruce worked his other hand free and carefully lit the candle, it's flickering light barely shining a hands breath in front of him. "Men! Get some lights on!" Richard trembled beside him. Bruce laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "Stay fast, Richard. Find the lever with an L carved into end of the hilt. Master Lucius really did think of every enchantment." Bruce could just barely make out Richard's slight nod in the candlelight as the boy began to feel the end of each lever. Once he found the correct one he pulled down and suddenly orbs of cyan light appeared, floating feet apart several inches from the ship's railing. "Master?" Richard whispered. "Look at that!" Mist rose from the water around them and began to seep onto the deck, turning into a dense fog. The fog swirled and twisted, becoming the images from the gates. The wind howled, sounding like screams and moans. Turn back! Death to all who persevere into darkness. "Men, find more lights! We need to disperse this fog! Now!" The men began to scramble. Clark and Lois began tripping their way below deck, Bruce assumed for lanterns and candles, Oliver began to light the few oil lanterns stationed on the deck with a lit arrow from his quiver and Stewart merely thrust his fist in the air. With a mighty bellow jade light immersed the ship's deck, valiantly repelling the fog. Bruce and Richard threw arms over their eyes, as the searing light momentarily blinded them. As the light poured out unfiltered a haggard, masculine voice whispered from its radiance. In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power-green lantern's light!
The light continued to pour forth, pushing the darkness away from the knights. Time elapsed in agonizing moments of illumination so vivid it left everyone in its clutches feeling abysmally nauseated. Finally, Sir Stewart fell to his knees and the light gradually faded from view. Wayne made his way to his exhausted knight. He appeared weathered, beaten, as if the few moments he had wielded the powerful spell had been lifetimes. "What, in the Lady of Gotham, was that?" Luminous green eyes met blue and the knight drew in a ragged breath. "It is the magic from the ring bestowed to me by Sage Pennyworth and Wizard Lucius. It is a bit...volatile." Bruce helped the weary man stumble to his feet, noticing the harsh hatred in his words. "None of us learned our swordsmanship in a day, why should our new gifts be any different. Thank you."
Wayne turned to his men. "Richard and I will take first watch. It is only going to get worse from here on out. I want the rest of you to canvas the ship. Make sure everything is properly secured. Send Sir Clark to me for his orders."
Sir Stewart stumbled below deck as a man who had yet to get his sea legs. Why? The single word echoed around in his mind, sapping what little remained of his strength. Was this some cruel jest played upon him by fate? Surely coincidence was not such a savage mistress. Stewart bumbled his way to the hold and collapsed amid the stores. With gulping breaths he leaned back in the darkness against one of the hard wooden shipping crates and stared at the signet that dared to grace his gauntlet. The emerald ring still emitted a weak refulgence, one he could feel coursing through his very veins. When he had unleashed the powers stored in the band on Oliver it was completely and utterly by accident. Oliver, in a breach of his character, had let the matter rest in a manner that left Stewart wary. Why? When Lucius had bestowed him the ring it felt as though someone with the strength of Sir Clark had pierced a sword through his gut, but Stewart's pride had restrained him from doing anything but nodding and accepting the gift with some semblance of gratitude. Memories rushed him unabated and left him raw.
It seemed so long ago and yet as if it were merely yesterday, the wizards with the emerald magic who had swept through his land, wiping out all that had opposed them. He had been but a lad when his father picked up his retired sword and battle-scarred shield and joined the king's army to fight them back, leaving Stewart to care for his mother and younger sister. His father never returned. Instead his sword was brought back by his captain along with condolences. Stewart would never forget that day. The man came, helm in one hand and the sword wrapped in his father's bloodied tunic in the other as he quietly spoke of the dead warrior's bravery and last acts of courage. Stewart's mother began to wail, the very image of a banshee announcing the dead. That was the beginning of the war...it stretched long through his childhood. Stewart's father wasn't the first casualty, nor was he to be the last as farmers all over the countryside beat their plowshares into weapons. When Stewart had joined the fray his mother was devastated, but the king was growing increasingly desperate.
Stewart was thirteen when he picked up his father's bloodied sword to enlist himself. His mother couldn't bear to look at it when the soldier had brought it home. He drew it and properly cleaned it, barely able to correctly wield it, and joined the men at the frontlines. The fighting that followed was fraught with gore and death. Even to this very day it was some of the most destructive warfare that Stewart had ever seen. The Emerald Wizards were brutal and creative with their killing. They cared not for the sanctity of human life and they cared not that most of the troops they fought were barely more than children. Stewart did not know how he survived, be it by accident or fate...but when he returned home from the battlefield he almost wished he hadn't. The Emerald Wizards had swept through his village and plundered and pillaged until there was nothing left. His family had been killed while he had been away fighting for their safety, and the irony of it all sent the bitter young man on a rampage. He had been away for three years, and looking upon the chaos, the young man vowed he would never return again to his village.
Now Stewart stared at the jade ring with disgust. Green magic had destroyed his life, and here it was in the palm of his hand. It whispered in his mind, begging to be used, urging him to take up the ring as a standard and fight. The ring cared naught for any particular cause, it merely wished to be bent by Stewart's will. That is not true, my liege. Stewart's eyes widened and he gaped at the adornment with confusion. In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape our sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware our power-green lantern's light! Stewart couldn't take his eyes off the green ring, his stomach twisting in revulsion. This ring reeked of magic...filthy lying words that made his blood run cold. He bore Lucius for his king's sake, but this was too much. Surely the wizard had ties with that wicked force to come upon such an item as this. Surely the wizard had used his prophetic ways to know of his past misfortunes and was using it to taunt him. Not only did the ring beg to be used but it expelled such sheer power that for a moment on the decks above Stewart had been afraid he would not be able to bring the magics back under control. Even still he could feel the intensity coursing through him, changing him. The only query that remained was if it was to be a worthy metamorphosis or an unspeakable abomination?
Clark had now tripped over Lady Lois for the twelfth time. For some reason she insisted that it was him that was a clumsy ox, even though he could see almost perfectly in the shadows of the galley. In fact, he had kept her from stubbing her dainty toes on her left foot on one of the tables, kept her from impaling herself on a kitchen knife that had been set on the counter instead of back into the knife block, and from falling onto one of the stoves the provided the ship with heat. Every time he turned around she was in immediate danger and he was suddenly immensely concerned with his ability to keep his oath to his king to keep her safe until they returned her to port. How could one maiden so enchanting be so troublesome. And, if that were not hassle enough, when he kept her from burning herself on the stove she had the audacity to accuse him of being forward. After a journey more dangerous than a trip to the kitchens should ever be, they finally managed to retrieve the spare candles and they began to place them around the galley in silence. "I really have not the foggiest notion why they would let a bungling beast of a man like you carry a sword. Are they not afraid that you will erroneously injure one of your own?" Clark suddenly could not remember what he found attractive in this nosy, self-involved young lady. Then she smiled at him, a true beaming smile that left him simply speechless. "That is part of your charm, I guess. You have such a boyish face, and if you are nearly as strong as your frame implies you probably are quite the secret weapon."
Clark let the silence continue, slightly embarrassed by her candor. His movements were stilled by her hand on his forearm. "I am sorry. I did not mean to make you blush. I tend to speak before I think. My father, he was in Gateway's army, you see...he raised my sister and I. My mother passed away when I was just a little girl and my father didn't know anything about raising daughters. He didn't teach us to be coy or how to be proper young ladies. He taught us to be crass and straightforward about what we desired. I don't mean to be a trial for you..." Clark placed his gloved hand on top of hers. "Lady Lois, I am honored to be your escort for this voyage and I am sure once we begin your training you will feel more at home. Honestly, I think it would harder to escort a proper high society lady. They tend to put on airs." Lois straightened her shoulders and turned up her nose with a giggle. "Well, if it offends you that much I can surely attempt it."
Richard squinted as he scanned the horizon, his eyes shrewd as a hawk. "My king, I can barely see a thing." Bruce turned from where he stood at the railing, his arms crossed against his chest. "Do you forget your lessons this quickly, Richard? Reach out with your other senses. Feel the change in the air. Listen to your surroundings. Do you smell anything out of the ordinary? Sight is not your only ally." Richard let out a frustrated sigh. "It feels like the air is being channeled...you can feel it being pushed in a certain direction." Bruce nodded. "What else?" The lad closed his eyes, blocking out the dim light from their vessel. "I can hear small echoes, as if we are in a cove or a grotto." Bruce turned back to the railings. "Very good, Lad. We will make a wise knight out of you yet. We do seem to be in some sort of cove, but the way the wind is blowing suggests that there is another exit other than the one we entered through. Pay attention to the wind and keep us on course."
Two days passed in an unseeing haze and our intrepid crew had yet to see the miracle of daylight. Morale was beginning to lower and Bruce knew that if they didn't find an exit to the cove soon madness would set in. It all changed around noon on the third day while Sir Oliver and Sir Stewart were on watch. They had settled into an uneasy companionship as they both edged around each other warily. They meandered around the deck, keeping their hands busy with frivolous tasks while they kept watchful eyes on the horizon. Sir Oliver was the first to spot it. "Stewart! Look past the bowsprit! Daylight ahead!" Stewart dropped the portion of sail he was mending and joined his comrade at the railing. Sure enough, the most glorious rays he had ever seen was within grasp. With joyful hearts they summoned the rest of the crew to the top deck and they all stared at the approaching brightness as if for the first time. It was, unsurprisingly, Lady Lois who spoke first. "Is it not just the most marvelous vision you have ever laid eyes upon?" As the boat drifted closer to the opening of the cove they were all shocked into silence(even Lady Lois) by what lay before them. The waters were a blue so brilliant they were almost violet and the air before them almost appeared to be shimmering. Bruce made his way to the helm and gestured for Richard to approach the controls. "Be wary men, we do not know what awaits on the other side." The men drew their swords and took up defensive positions as the ship slowly broke into the sunlight. As the rays of light filtered over the deck the crew shielded their gaze. Before their eyes could adjust a watery voice rang out from the cliffs above. "Lay down your weapons or forfeit your lives!"
Hello! I didn't get quite to the point I wanted to achieve in this chapter...it took on a mind of it's own. But, since I didn't get quite to where I wanted I have my next chapter all planned out! Would anyone like a chapter dedicated to Clark training Lois how to fight? If its something that interests you, my dear readers, let me know or I may just imply it happened. Reviews and/or critiques are appreciated!