Story #185 - The Pride Of Sylvan

The Pride of Sylvan

The ship beat steadily westward across the Aran Sea, toward the realms of Free Men and their kings. Around it dark water churned, and salt-slick spray coated its sails and mast, baptizing it in the rough. From a distance, the ship was one of hundreds that made the trip through the Pinch, the only safe crossing on the Sea. From a distance, it was nothing more than another merchant or pirate, bound for ports unknown in the service of one unnamed.

From a distance.

On the deck, no crewmen stirred – no boards were swabbed, no sails were raised. At the wheel, no sailor stood, and yet the ship found its course, slipped the narrow path of the Pinch with the grace and delicacy of one born on the waters.

In the captain's quarters, a meal was set but uneaten. Fine clothing was laid on the large bed, a treasure of silks from the Heated Wastes, but there was no captain to fill them, no man to slip them on.

Save for the piling wind and pounding surf, there was silence on the ship, still and unbroken. The words of men had not floated over its decks for a generation, and it had not been seen by mortal eyes in nearly as long.

The Pride of Sylvan beat westward, across the Aran Sea, toward the realms of Free Men and their kings, but no alarm was raised. No man alive knew of its coming.

***

Liss Palver heaved another create over his shoulder and did his best not to stagger under the weight. He'd been a dockhand for the better part of thirty years, but his seniority hadn't garnered him anything except a bad back and disdain from those who were younger. Liss had never been one to lead other men, and though the company's Lordling had offered him the foreman's job several times, he'd always turned it down.

As far as Liss was concerned, a man could only tell himself what to do. Trying to force other men to follow his rules or the rules handed down to him by those with more power wasn't how he wanted to spend his days, even if the pay was better. The headaches he'd have, coupled with the fact that he'd be the one the company would come looking to blame meant that hauling gear and getting a hard time from the other dockers was his best option.

He'd never considered another life. Father and grandfather before him had worked the docks, both solid men who had provided for their families until the day the Sister took them home. Kind men, too, for their station, who beat Liss and his brothers half as much as other boys on the street, but to double the effect. His father especially had a way with words rather than whallops, and Liss had always felt a closeness to the older Palver, and a desire to make the other man proud.

Triss Palver told him he'd accomplished as much before the old docker died last winter, and Liss still felt a heady glow whenever he thought about his father's words. What the fools on the dock thought of him and his age was irrelevant; his father had been proud.

“Palver!” That was Hassan, the dock boss. He was the dumbest of the lot of them, which explained why he'd taken the position. Even at a distance of thirty feet, Liss could hear Hassan as if the ugly man were standing right beside him, and he could also see the scars that ran along the dock boss's neck. Hassan had been beaten a time or two for the failings of his men, something that always made Liss smile. He'd been smart enough to say no.

“Drop that crate where it is, Palver. The Watch says we've got a new ship comin' in.”

Liss let the crate straps go gently; though Hassan would take the brunt of the beating if he destroyed the cargo, he'd get a lick or two as well is the dock boss saw him drop it. Best to be safe.

“Get over to pier two and give 'em whatever help they need. Take Kranny with you.”

Liss frowned. Kranny was the weakest of the lot of them, but Hassan seemed to delight in putting he and the tall northerner together. Liss didn't care enough to ask why a Northman would end up in a Westport, but did care when the other man couldn't perform. He hoped whatever the crew of this new ship was bringing in was light and easy to move.

***

Standing impatiently at the edge of the dock, Liss shot a look at the help Hassan had given him. Kranny was sitting on the edge of the wooden planking, dangling his feet in the water with his chin in his hands. He was thin almost to the point of being frightening, and Liss had never seen him take a bite of food.

A horn from above pulled his attention from the Northman and he looked out to sea, toward the single entry point for the Westport docks. A ship was just rounding the Hill, one unlike any that Liss had ever seen. Black flags whipped from each of its sailtops, and there was something odd about the way it moved – it seemed almost as though the water around it was trying to retreat, trying to get as far from the hull of the boat as possible.

Kranny rose, drawing in a sharp breath, and then ran down the dock toward the shoreline as if the Brother himself was on his heels. He was screaming something, but Liss couldn't make it out over the rest of the noise on the dock.

He shrugged; the Northman would get what was coming to him, and there was work to be done.

Liss was stunned to find the boat slapping against the dock's edge when he turned back. No ship should be able to move that fast, even with a trailing wind. Men from other dock crews moved forward across the gangplank that had been run out, but he paused for a moment to read the marker on the ship's fore. Liss was one of the few on the docks that could read, and made a point to use the skill every time he could.

Faded red lettering made it hard to see, but after a moment, his mind pieced the name of the ship together.

“The Pride of Sylvan”.

The dock planking thumped hard under his feet as he ran, charging back toward shore. Kranny had been right to flee; the minions of the Brother had arrived to take them all.

- D