3

Toward the Open Sea

Ultimately, there was little discussion the next morning. In the night they had passed two more small coastal fishing villages in flames along the coast. A fisherman had escaped to the water on his boat and was picked up by The Seahorse. The tale he shared of fire and death echoed what others knew from the dark night in Dalnir.

Over half of the people on the ship had planned to follow the exodus of the various races of the Combine overseas already. The return to the ancestral lands of Antonica had been going on for several years now and had gained momentum as word returned of the successful forming of new settlements. Separating oneself from the enslaving shissar with a large sea was an appealing idea for many who had endured their oppression. Some still worried about a return of the dragon attacks and the Ring of Scale on Antonica, but nothing had been heard or seen of them in years beyond count.

The other half on the ship had been those taking desperate refuge from the burning town. It was well known that most who had yet to go were planning to stay in Kunark. It was the only home they'd known. But most of them on the ship were persuaded by the seeming destruction of the civilized coast. Rorshif had protested mightily but when not a single soul would follow the ogre ashore, he had relented, sulkily returning to the galley to prepare the next meal.

So the ship turned toward the open sea. The horizon off the stern showed the land of Kunark retreating into the distance. Tomon sat on a coil of rope, eating his bowl of stew and hunk of bread. Staring out under the railing of the sterncastle, it struck him he was now getting further away from his father. Vagano had refused to answer him whenever he asked about his father, sending him off to do another errand or ignoring him entirely. Now he was being taken away from home and out to the open sea. His vision started blurring. His eyes filled with tears. A sob escaped him as a tremor of sorrow moved through his body.

Durgin Stouthammer paused his report on the work below decks and turned to look behind him at the sound of the boy crying behind. His bearded face grimaced and turned back to look up at the tall kerran at the ship's wheel. Beside him was the fisherman picked up the night before.

"Vagano-

"Master Stouthammer, I believe it is past time you addressed me as Captain. Wouldn't you agree?" Vagano said. "It will be a long and difficult voyage made more so if discipline breaks down on the ship."

"Oh blast it," Durgin growled lowly. "Captain," he said, "I believe it is past time that you addressed the boy about his father. Wouldn't you agree?"

The Captain rolled his eyes at the dwarf's mockery but the fisherman broke into the discussion. "The boy's father is not with us?"

Vagano glanced at the fisherman before turning his gaze ahead again. He spoke lowly so as not to be heard elsewhere. "The boy's father stayed behind to fight off the attack on the docks, allowing us to escape. I've tried keeping the boy busy since."

There was a long silence while the three stood at the captain's wheel. "A lot of folks aboard lost someone, left someone behind," Vagano said.

"Blast, boy," Durgin growled. "Finish that meal and come find me. We've work to do." The dwarf stumped away from the wheel and down the stairs to the main deck. Tomon couldn't muster the composure to do more than bob his head in acknowledgement. But even in his misery, he could hear the softness in the dwarf's voice.

Tomon felt a hand close over his shoulder and looked up to see the bearded fisherman picked up the night before. "Tomon? That is your name, is it?" Tomon nodded yes, wiping his eyes clear and then searching the man's face curiously. His beard was a mix of dark and gray. His eyes were a dark blue and topped by eyebrows that seemed bushier than the hairy kerran, Vagano. His hair was colored as his beard, but swept back in waves as if buffeted by a sea wind for a long time. His cheeks were red and billowed out like sails in a high wind. He knelt down by Tomon, leaving his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Tell me the kind of man your father was," he said firmly.

Tomon was tongue-tied for a moment. He couldn't stop himself from looking into those blue eyes. At the raise of one massive dark eyebrow, he remembered what he'd been asked. "My father." The fisherman nodded patiently. Tomon's eyes turned to look out to the sea. The trail of the ship's wake stretched out behind them.

"Strong," Tomon started. "A good man. A good man, they said." Tomon recalled standing next to his father when they met townsfolk. When they met soldiers, merchants, bakers, important people and normal people, they knew his father.

"They?" the fisherman asked.

"Everyone," Tomon replied. Looking back to him, Tomon saw eyes searching, questioning. "The blacksmith, the storekeeper, the guards," Tomon paused. "He was the captain of the guards."

The fisherman waited. "And?" he finally said.

Tomon wasn't sure what else to say. Did he need more people? More names? What else was he looking for? Why was he even asking?

"People smiled when they saw him," he finally said. "I think they liked him. They said I was his spitting image. That I should work to make him proud." The fisherman nodded. Tomon asked before he knew it: "Will I see him again?"

The blue eyes of the fisherman looked into his. For a long moment he said nothing. He let out a long breath and finally said, "I don't know, Tomon. There's a lot of folks on this ship that are wondering if they'll see someone they love again. For now, if you want to make your father proud, we need to do what we can to help this ship get to where we are going. That would make your father proud, wouldn't it?"

Tomon nodded. It wasn't the answer he had wanted to hear. He wanted to start crying again. But the fisherman kept looking into his eyes and kept him from looking away. The fisherman held out his hand. Tomon reached out to put his small hand into the big one of the fisherman. "Let's get to work and make your father proud. My name is Winsul. Work hard and find me at midday meal. I could use your help with a task the Captain has given me. Agreed?"

Tomon smiled and nodded. "Agreed, sir."

Winsul nodded. "Run along, boy, before the dwarf has another reason to grumble."

Tomon jumped to his feet and hurried toward the stairs down to the main deck. He decided he liked Winsul.