Chapter 15; On the seas of ice;

Characters of the chapter

Oden Ironborn sailor

Yara Greyjoy Master of ships on the small council of the south kingdom, commander of the royal navy, Queen of the Iron Islands

Cold. So insanely cold.

Since the disastrous battle with the Qunari the Seadancer had been on the run, a Qunari dreadnought stubbornly on their tail. She could not believe how persistent the enemy were in chasing her. The speed of her ship had allowed her to stay just out of reach of their cannons, but still they had not given up the pursuit. Did the captain of the enemy vessel harbor some personal grudge against her, or were the Oxmen just so single-minded in their duty?

She had sought to rally with her remaining two fleets, to gain an advantage against this lone ship and to bring warning of what had happened. But she had been unable to find them anywhere despite considerable effort. She hoped those fleets were still alive. She thought it very unlikely the Qunari would have enough warships to effectively engage all three fleets at once, but as recent events had shown she had been wrong about them before. She did not know the truth of this. It was all in the Drowned God's hands now.

Next she had sought to give the enemy the slip and head back to the Iron Islands, but had failed at that too, the attempt coming close to costing her a ship. The only thing she had been able to do was to flee ever northward, driven there by her adversary. That had finally brought her here, to a region of the sea frozen solid over thousands of years under the influence of the White Walker's magic. It was only slightly warmer these days, having been transformed into a maze of freezing cold water and moving ice masses that could break a ship between them like a nutcracker.

Fleeing here had finally been enough to shake off her pursuer, the dreadnought unable to follow her into the narrow channel she had chosen. But doing so created other problems. Each time she had sought to direct her ship back to open waters to the south, the passages had conspired to turn her back around. Now, after days and days wandering this frozen labyrinth, she was starting to wonder if she had managed to escape her enemies only to land her crew into a trap.

The seas around the Iron Islands were frequently chilly, and with autumn coming they had been preparing for colder days. But this… this was not something they had been expecting to face, and they had not been ready for it. This was a deeper cold that bit straight through to the bone, no matter what clothes they had. She herself had wrapped a cloak tight around herself, additional cloth wrapped around her head and face. Even then she shivered like the rest. Frostbite had been a problem, several of the crew losing fingers or toes to it, though she herself had been spared from that. Most of her people remained huddled below decks where it was not quite as cold, with only a skeleton crew needed to sail the ship remaining above, working in shifts.

Being here she had gained newfound respect for the Antivans that had first managed to sail through similar conditions on the seas on the northeastern part of Westeros, long before the Corridor had been put up by the Orlesians. Had those people been Ironborn she was certain their voyage would have been worth singing about for at least a century. And even now with the Corridor there were many who braved these shifting routes through the ice. Pirates and smugglers moving between Thedas and Westeros had to do so, since the getting caught by Orlesians in the Corridor was almost a certainty. Isabela had come here the same way as the other Thedosian pirates and had told Yara it could be a long while until she was willing to try the crossing again. The ships of the Tevinter Imperium were denied the use of the Corridor, partly because Orlais liked to hamper one of their greatest political rivals any way they could but also because Tevi vessels all too often carried slaves, which officially was against the laws of Orlais (Though Yara had heard that some servants in Orlais were only a step above that status). So ships of the Imperiums also had to brave these dangerous routes, though they at least had the advantage of their mages to help ease their passage.

Somewhere in this region the Qunari had their own secret passage that no other power had managed to locate, which explained how their warships could be so prevalent on the western seas of Westeros. It would be a fine thing to discover that route during this involuntary wandering about, but she rather doubted it would happen.

Today was looking to be even worse than usual. Suddenly rising winds had whipped up a snowstorm some half an hour ago, making the cold even worse, flying snowflakes stinging their eyes and making it hard to see. The winds were making it hard to keep the Seadancer under control, their hull taking several glancing impacts from nearby ice rafts. Each such impact made her cringe, as the ship still bore the scars of their battle with the Qunari fleet. She was unsure how many more hits the Seadancer could take.

"Oden! Oden!" She shouted over the howling winds. "We're going to need more people over here! Tell the next shift to get their asses over here to help us!"

"I'm on it!" Oden shouted back and disappeared below deck.

"Come on! Reduce those sails!" She shouted up to the masts where her crew were struggling to do exactly that. They needed to slow down if they wanted to avoid these impacts against the ice, not to mention the risk of the wind tipping their ship over and dooming them for certain.

As tired, miserable looking crewmen began to stumble into the biting winds, she heard a faint shout coming from somewhere above. Turning her eyes upwards she saw the crewman in the crow's nest motioning towards the front of the ship, shouting all the while. The weather made it impossible to discern what he was saying, but she thought she could hear alarm in his voice. She ran to the front of the ship to see what he was shouting about.

Despite the frequent impacts this particular lane had been relatively wide. But ahead the edge of the ice curved inwards, like their ship was inside the jaws of a massive beast. There was a narrow gap ahead beyond which a sizeable stretch of open water beckoned. A narrow gap that was now shrinking before her very eyes.

Finally she understood what was going on. The wind was pushing the ice rafts, sending one towards the other. To the right of them several rafts had already collided, slowing their movement, while to the left of them another ice raft was about to join the pileup, the lane they were travelling through becoming smaller by the moment. The narrow gap meant that the route ahead would be cut off in just a few moments, leaving nowhere to go as the ice rafts squeezed together, a mass that was more than enough to destroy her ship. If they did not clear the gap in time…"

"Damn it! Increase sails! Full sails, hurry!" She shouted.

"Could you bloody make up your mind, damn you!?" One crewman on the sails shouted, clearly not yet realizing the danger they were in. Even so her command was obeyed, the sails unfurled once again, the Seadancer speeding towards the gap. Very soon everyone on deck was aware of the situation, some exhorting the ship onwards while other awaited in grim silence.

Yara ground her teeth together as she realized the gap shrink too narrow for her ship to fit through. In seconds the passage became too narrow for the ship to even turn. They were too late, and now they were trapped. The path ahead closed off completely, shards of ice pushed upwards where the rafts ground against one another. Propelled by the winds, the Seadancer was now headed for a collision with the ice. And now there was no time to order the sails to be reduced again.

"Brace!" She shouted, kneeling down and taking hold of the railing.

The impact happened some five seconds later, knocking down everyone still on their feet. Several of those that had been working on the sails were knocked off and sent plummeting to their death. The impact pushed their hull upwards, pushing them partway atop the ice. Then their vessel was rocked again when the raft on the left made contact with their side hull, pushing them against the raft on the right.

Now being squeezed on both sides, the hull began groaning in a very alarming manner. Their ship completely at the mercy of the elements, Yara closed her eyes and waited for the end, thinking she could hear the sound of shattering wood…

But death never came. Instead after several moments she opened her eyes, coming to the realization that the winds had begun to still, disappearing as fast as they had arrived half an hour ago. In moments the howling was gone, an eerie silence descending.

At first she waited, listening for the possibility of the winds returning, not quite able to acknowledge that they could have been this fortunate. No one else uttered a word either, sharing her disbelief. But the winds did not return. They had been spared. They were still stuck for now, but death was no longer imminent.

Realizing she had been holding her breath, Yara exhaled with relief, the realization that they were still alive leaving her feeling light-headed. She could hear her crew starting to cheer in celebration, and it brought a faint smile to her lips.

It was then that Oden came to her. "My Queen. You'd best come see this."

The look of concern on his face was enough to drive the feeling of relief from her. He led her to the hold of the ship. Stepping through a doorway the sight she beheld made her realize they had all celebrated too early after all.

She had not imagined the sound of breaking wood. As the rafts had collided with their ship the port side of their hull had given away, a wall of ice breaking into the hold, filling much of the space. The ice had largely plugged the tear it had made in the hull, but water was drizzling in through the edges, a pool up to their ankles already on the floor.

"No, no, NO!" Yara exclaimed, rushing to the ice. She paced about for a moment, hands on her head, trying to gather her thoughts.

The hole was significant, well beyond their ability to patch. For now the ice was holding them aloft, keeping them from sinking. But now even if the ice rafts would part with the next gust of wind, the ice would retract and then…

The Seadancer was dead, gutted. In this unforgiving place there was nowhere for her crew to go. And it was very unlikely that anyone would come to their aid. Odds were no one even knew they were alive, much less trapped in this hellscape. As the realization of that sank in she lost all energy she had had earlier. Hanging her head in defeat she placed her hand against the ice and slid down to her knees. She remained there for a long while, not caring that the icy water on the floor made her legs quickly go numb.

"Your Grace… what should we do?" Oden eventually asked.

She lifted her gaze and saw that others had gathered at the door as well, looking at her with concerned and expectant faces. The sight of them made her steel herself once more. She was still the Captain of this vessel, and the Queen of the Iron Islands. These people still depended on her. She needed to lead, even now. Especially now.

"Set to work on evacuating any surviving stores from the hold. Bring lighter stuff to the upper deck, heavier things on the ice in case we need to abandon ship." She ordered.

"After that's done… we'll see about isolating the hold from the rest of the ship, waterproof the decks above. If we can get that done right maybe we can keep the ship from sinking even if the hold is flooded." She added, trying to keep her skepticism from her voice.

"And then?" Oden asked.

"Then we wait… survive… and pray." She said.

The crew went to work as she had ordered. Fortunately there was very little drama, her crew not losing their nerve or starting to accuse her of getting them into this situation. Everyone had instead gone into crisis mode, focusing all attention on the tasks at hand. They would try to solve this problem as well as they could, for as long as they could. The crew knew there was little reason for hope now, but this was the only thing to be done, so they did it. For now the Ironborn were grateful to have even an illusion of a purpose to focus on.

After that first bout of anxiety a strange calm had overtaken her as well. On some level she had always expected to die at sea. She had expected a day would come when her skills at sailing and combat would not be enough to keep her alive. Such was the common end for Ironborn. So common in fact that an Ironborn that managed to live to a ripe old age and die at home was often considered to have failed at life unless they had accomplished some great deeds before that. That did not mean she wanted to die here and now. She had pictured the end coming much later in her life, in battle against some worthy opponent. Certainly not at the hands of nature, by the implacable power of the elements as now looked likely. But people rarely got to choose their deaths. Like the others she would try to solve this situation for as long as she was able. It might work, or it might not. If not, well… in her heart she had accepted that potential outcome, so she felt no fear or worry, just a need to defy the end by trying to survive for as long as possible.

The winds mercifully did not rise again, so what followed were several dull days of hard labor, made miserable by the pervasive cold. She worked alongside the crew as an equal for now, both to set an example and to take her mind off things. When the hold had been emptied and the decks waterproofed to the best of their ability she did her best to invent other tasks for the crew to do. Her people needed things to focus on, ways to be productive or ways to make them feel that they were. Without those things despair would set in. It was wise to delay that for as long as possible. And they needed to keep moving so they could stay warm. Warmer at least.

They set up a makeshift camp on one of the ice rafts in case it would be necessary to evacuate their ship. The rafts fortunately were able to take their weight without any difficulty, being many meters thick even at their thinnest points. She had permitted them to use materials usually used to repair the sails and hull to make the camp, anything not needed in their waterproofing effort. Sailcloth and rope could be used to make tents with some wood from their stores to give them at least some shelter. Oil and the wood left could be used to make fires. The crew did ask to take materials from the hull itself, but she forbade this. As doomed as their ship appeared to be she would not allow them to tear apart their only available vessel just yet. And there was some sentimentality in that decision as well, she had to admit. This ship had served her well for a long time now. It deserved a chance to fight for it's survival until the last possible moment. Just like her crew did.

Despite the cold most of them preferred to sleep in the camp, not wanting to risk getting trapped below deck in case their efforts of waterproofing the inner structure failed. It was not a pleasant stay by any measure, but she did what she could to make her people more comfortable. And she did her best to find them new things to do. In addition to chores on the ship she sent some on the ice to try fishing to add to their food stores, others to chip ice for drinking water. Still others were sent to look around and seek signs of other ships, their best hope of getting out of this place. Piled together as the rafts were it was possible to explore surprisingly long distances on foot. To better help them move on the ice she had her crew hammer small nails to the bottom of their shoes. One more task to occupy them.