No-one who hadn't been to sea could imagine the storms that battered ships out there. Hundred mile-an-hour winds whipped the seas into a screaming frenzy and the waves towered over the ship. Crowe didn't think there was anyone aboard the Belle who hadn't spent the whole week throwing up. Even the most experienced hands were losing every meal they ate.
That was bad enough, but then a few days later the ship passed by the Sarcre Islands and approached the Stormwall. This was an impassable barrier, according to every sailor on board. Margrave himself was of the same opinion, but the Brotherhood man, Farran, merely smiled infuriatingly whenever the subject came up. Now that they were actually here, however, he had no choice but to give his counsel on the matter.
He did this by summoning his two silent companions. They had been sequestered in the hold and everyone aboard had heard the chanting and smelled the strange scents that emerged from there. Powerful magic was being worked in the hold.
"My friends," Farran began, "you are about to make history. This ship will be the first ever to pass through the Stormwall." He ignored the disdainful laughter that was stifled all around. "You have each been given a set of words," he went on, and Crowe looked at the slate he had been given. The syllables on it were random as far as he could tell. "When my colleagues begin their great work, you must all recite the words, over and over until we are through. My colleagues are depending on your concentration to help power the spell."
The crew had been excited in a way, to be a part of the workings of a real spell. As strange and acrid vapours began to rise from the hold and sweep around the ship, the crew began to chant the strange words.
"Ha rey soon-pa," they began, repeating it over and over.
As the air around the ship began to thicken, the sea began to behave strangely. It was coagulating and then shaking itself apart, until it was like sand bouncing on a drum skin.
"Change words," Farran called, as the two hooded magicians floated across the deck to each end of the ship.
"Toh da che," the crew began to intone, "Ta che doh."
As they chanted, the magicians pulled at the threads of power and used grand gestures to guide them. Ahead of the ship, the sea began to fall away, as if it had been scooped out. Soon, a tunnel, large enough to let the ship flow through, curved down under the furious but now impotent Stormwall.
The noise inside the tunnel of water was unbelievable, both because of the sound of moving water itself, the chanting and the screaming of the clouds and lightning of the Stormwall. Men screamed too, certain that the ship was sinking, or being crushed to matchwood by the Stormwall. The more men began to scream, the less they chanted and the ship began to rise as the tunnel began to implode.
Finally, the ship was excreted from the tunnel before it collapsed utterly. The sea surged back into the space, now astern, where the tunnel had been. It slammed shut with an enormous booming crash.
They were beyond the Stormwall.
When the storms eventually subsided, and the Fat Sea settled as Kerberos continued its own voyage across the skies, life on board ship returned to something resembling normality; hard work and cramped conditions, but open skies and plenty of fresh air. Crowe was beginning to enjoy it and wondered whether a life at sea was something he could really settle down to, at least for a year or two.
A few days later, he was helping the Belle's carpenter shape some replacement belaying pins when the call floated down from the crow's nest.
"Land ho!"
The men rushed to the rails and Crowe found himself beside Margrave, both men shading their eyes with their hands. Sure enough, something was shining on the horizon. Crowe didn't trust himself to speak. Beside him, Margrave was almost hyperventilating. "It's true," he kept repeating. "It's true. It's true…"
"The Isle of the Star." Crowe managed to say.
"An island made of diamond."
Farran joined them at rail. "Incredible. You've obviously heard the legends, of course, but I assume you never expected to really see it."
"You never said this was what you were looking for," Crowe pointed out.
"How long do you think, until we reach it?" Farran said to the Captain.
"Tomorrow morning with any luck."
Feet were thumping on wood all around as Crowe sat up with a start. Men were grabbing belaying pins, knives and anything else that could be used as a weapon. Crowe leapt to his feet, snatching up his sword.
"What's the panic?" he called.
"Search me mate," someone shouted back. "An attack, maybe."
"Oh well done, I'd never have thought of that," Crowe muttered, scrambling up on deck. Kerberos was floating overhead, almost the entire sky choked with its azure glow. Men were darting everywhere, while Margrave tolled the ship's bell. Margrave's nightshirt was open at the throat and he looked half asleep.
"What's happening? I don't see any ships." Crowe said.
Margrave looked sick. "If there were ships, we'd have fewer problems." He nodded towards the rail. "Look at the water."
Crowe took a few steps and looked down.
The water heaving against the hull was black, but what made the breath catch in Crowe's throat were the sickly green lights, like distant lanterns in fog, that were converging on the ship. "What in the pits? What are they?"
"Sea devils, I suppose."
"There's no such thing!"
"Tell them that." Crowe left his longsword where it was and grabbed a shorter cutlass, which had a nice solid hand guard to punch with, and a fairly wide blade like that of a machete. On a ship, nasty brutish and short was the best type of weapon. He didn't want to get the end of the longsword stuck in a plank or beam somewhere and thus leave himself open to being gutted.
"We should stop them boarding," Farran snapped.
"How do you suggest we do that?" Margrave asked icily.
"Prepare to repel boarders!"
It was too late anyway; the first webbed arms were appearing over the sides. The creatures were covered in repulsively slimy green scales, with spines rippling down their backs. The huge heads were split by a wide maw filled with needle-sharp teeth. Fist-sized inscrutable black eyes gazed out at the crew.
Nobody waited for the creatures to co-ordinate their attack. Crowe drew his short, machete-like cutlass and grabbed a belaying pin and leapt at them. Margrave was lunging forward right next to him, stabbing at one creature, while Crowe backhanded another in the face with the belaying pin and stabbed it in the armpit.
Its anatomy must have been different from a man's, as this didn't stop it. It leaped forward, slobbering, and Crowe sliced some of the spines from its back and kicked it in the guts. It staggered back and Crowe punched the dagger up through its jaw. It dropped at last, but another creature turned and offered him more spines, by shooting them from its back. He dropped behind some barrels just in time.
He rose again to see Farran raise his hands abruptly, the fingers curling into claws. Crowe realised what was about to happen and dove to the side just in time. A ball of crackling ice flew past his head and slammed into the nearest creature. Its scales froze and exploded into glass-like shards as it took its next step. It swung round, bleeding from a crater in its side and lunged for Margrave. The Captain fell, but Crowe intercepted the creature before it could deliver a finishing blow, his cutlass biting into the inside of its upper arm.
It fell back, screaming, and Crowe brought a fatal blow down into its neck.
The deck of the Belle was a mass of struggling bodies, but the sailors were definitely pushing the creatures back into the sea. Crowe managed to pick up another cutlass from a fallen sailor and took off a webbed and clawed hand that was slashing towards him, before slashing the creature's throat.