Flashback
Prologue
The Red Sea
480 CE
A sharp crack punctuated the sound of the raging wind and rain. The main mast of the large wooden vessel snapped in half; three men scurried away from the lethal path of falling timber and rigging lines as they crashed to the deck and slid toward the side of the ship. The men groped in desperation at the soaking deck planks, but there was nowhere to go; the timbers swept them over the side into the foamy swells of the Red Sea, their cries lost in the wind.
The captain, lashed to the tiller on the starboard side of the seventy-foot vessel, watched in dismay as his friends and partners vanished into oblivion. He cursed at the gods for sending a sudden and violent storm into the path of their ship. Superstitious by nature, he was convinced the stranger they had brought aboard at Himyar had something to do with their anger.
He loosened the rope and released the tiller; it was useless anyway. Without forward momentum from the wind in her sails, the relentless waves tossed the vessel about, a child’s toy in the hands of a Titan. He lurched like a drunken sailor to the opening which led to the hold of the vessel and, pressing his hands on both sides of the narrow passageway, descended into the darkness below.
The aroma that assaulted his nostrils told him what he already knew; his precious cargo of oil and wine had blended with the invading seawater as the rough tossing of the ship smashed the earthen amphorae like eggshells.
He took a moment to confront the chaos before him and grieved the economic impact of his loss. It yielded to seething anger as he peered into the hold, to a lantern swaying from a support beam. Near the light, the stranger held fast to a rope tied to the support, a lifeline against the certainty of tossing about with the several hundred amphorae around him.
"You!" the captain said. The dull roar from above virtually swallowed the sound of his voice. The stranger seemed not to notice, intent on clinging to his tether. "Damn you. You’ve caused this ruin." The man spat into the gloom as he got closer.
"Don't be ridiculous," the stranger said. "I have nothing to do with this. Shouldn't you be on deck trying to steer? If you need my help, say so. I stayed below on your orders."
The captain tried once more to place the origin of the unfamiliar accent. He had traveled far, but had never encountered one like it.
"You're a fool," he said. "The tiller is useless, the mast has snapped, and my crew gone overboard." The captain was now just feet from the stranger. Despite the fact he was screaming, he had trouble making himself heard. "What have you done that the gods should ruin me to get to you?"
"Tell me you've never encountered a storm at sea before."
"I've sailed this sea since childhood but I’ve never been caught this quickly unaware. I’ve always been able to sense a rising storm and make way to shore first."
"It’s a freak storm then, what do you want from me?"
"Justice," the captain said. "Vengeance." With a hand, he swept his arm about, as if to reveal the devastation at his feet to the stranger with the light hair and blue eyes. "This is the ruin of my family." The captain drew a dagger from inside his tunic. "Perhaps your death will satisfy the gods. I pray they’ll guide my vessel to a soft shoreline."
The stranger's eyes reflected the light from the lantern as it illuminated the partly rusty blade. "You're crazy. Put that away."
The captain was finished talking and lunged at the stranger, grabbing at him. He managed to coil his fingers around the links of a chain hanging from the man’s neck. It pulled taut for a moment, then the clasp gave way, the stranger fell back leaving the gold medallion and chain in the captain’s hand. He gazed at it, staring at the strange writing. Casting the chain aside, it found the hole in a broken jar of oil and sank to the bottom.
In his moment of hesitation, the stranger moved around him. The captain recovered and turned to give chase, feeling murderous. Long years of practice in turbulent seas kept his footing steady as the ship rolled from side to side.
Then the vessel lurched to port, a whole row of neatly lined amphorae shifted and slid across the deck, sweeping the Captain off his feet. He felt more than heard the bone in his leg snap; a searing pain registered like a bolt of lightning before his eyes. Howling in anguish, he tried to pull himself over the bed of broken clay jars.
The hull of the vessel shuddered accompanied by a tearing, scraping sound. The rolling ceased. Fear took hold as understanding cut through his pain. The frames and timbers groaned over the sound of the storm, then a crackling noise as the keel snapped; the wales of the ship pulled apart like pieces of cardboard torn by an unseen giant. Seawater flooded into the hold from both sides.
The captain had but a fleeting moment to realize the ship had landed on a reef, her spine unable to withstand the enormous pressure of the vessel’s full weight. Then the seawater was on him, along with several tons of earthen jars smashing his bones and sherds cutting his flesh to ribbons. The captain looked up and felt a scream rise in his throat as a deck beam broke loose and dropped toward his face.
* * *
The stranger had reached halfway up the steps to the main deck when he heard the scream. He watched helplessly as the heavy wooden timber crushed the captain. He leaped up the two remaining steps knowing there was nothing he could do to help the man, and stood exposed on the deck, peering into the driving sheets of rain. Waves smashed over the sides, a small tidal wave of seawater swept him toward the side of the ship. A flash of lightning illuminated the landscape of an island only a hundred feet from the doomed vessel. As the stern lurched backward, sliding deeper into the water, he pitched over the side into the swells.
Terrified and disoriented, his head broke the surface. He tried to take a breath, but sea-spray filled his mouth. Choking and sputtering, he turned in the water to see the remaining wreckage slipping rapidly beneath the waves. Worse than the churning water, was the fear of smashing onto a rock as the ship had been.
He swam frantically in the direction of the island, but seemed to make no progress. He tried to catch the crest of a wave and ride it, hoping it would carry him toward the shore. The surge lifted and propelled him forward. Then, falling into the trough between waves, his feet touched something hard. He bobbed higher on the next roll, then down again. The noise swirling around him changed. With incredible relief, he recognized the sound of waves crashing on the beach, and offered a prayer he would make it the rest of the way.
Copyright © by Gary Nilsen 2009, 2012
Prologue
The Red Sea
480 CE
A sharp crack punctuated the sound of the raging wind and rain. The main mast of the large wooden vessel snapped in half; three men scurried away from the lethal path of falling timber and rigging lines as they crashed to the deck and slid toward the side of the ship. The men groped in desperation at the soaking deck planks, but there was nowhere to go; the timbers swept them over the side into the foamy swells of the Red Sea, their cries lost in the wind.
The captain, lashed to the tiller on the starboard side of the seventy-foot vessel, watched in dismay as his friends and partners vanished into oblivion. He cursed at the gods for sending a sudden and violent storm into the path of their ship. Superstitious by nature, he was convinced the stranger they had brought aboard at Himyar had something to do with their anger.
He loosened the rope and released the tiller; it was useless anyway. Without forward momentum from the wind in her sails, the relentless waves tossed the vessel about, a child’s toy in the hands of a Titan. He lurched like a drunken sailor to the opening which led to the hold of the vessel and, pressing his hands on both sides of the narrow passageway, descended into the darkness below.
The aroma that assaulted his nostrils told him what he already knew; his precious cargo of oil and wine had blended with the invading seawater as the rough tossing of the ship smashed the earthen amphorae like eggshells.
He took a moment to confront the chaos before him and grieved the economic impact of his loss. It yielded to seething anger as he peered into the hold, to a lantern swaying from a support beam. Near the light, the stranger held fast to a rope tied to the support, a lifeline against the certainty of tossing about with the several hundred amphorae around him.
"You!" the captain said. The dull roar from above virtually swallowed the sound of his voice. The stranger seemed not to notice, intent on clinging to his tether. "Damn you. You’ve caused this ruin." The man spat into the gloom as he got closer.
"Don't be ridiculous," the stranger said. "I have nothing to do with this. Shouldn't you be on deck trying to steer? If you need my help, say so. I stayed below on your orders."
The captain tried once more to place the origin of the unfamiliar accent. He had traveled far, but had never encountered one like it.
"You're a fool," he said. "The tiller is useless, the mast has snapped, and my crew gone overboard." The captain was now just feet from the stranger. Despite the fact he was screaming, he had trouble making himself heard. "What have you done that the gods should ruin me to get to you?"
"Tell me you've never encountered a storm at sea before."
"I've sailed this sea since childhood but I’ve never been caught this quickly unaware. I’ve always been able to sense a rising storm and make way to shore first."
"It’s a freak storm then, what do you want from me?"
"Justice," the captain said. "Vengeance." With a hand, he swept his arm about, as if to reveal the devastation at his feet to the stranger with the light hair and blue eyes. "This is the ruin of my family." The captain drew a dagger from inside his tunic. "Perhaps your death will satisfy the gods. I pray they’ll guide my vessel to a soft shoreline."
The stranger's eyes reflected the light from the lantern as it illuminated the partly rusty blade. "You're crazy. Put that away."
The captain was finished talking and lunged at the stranger, grabbing at him. He managed to coil his fingers around the links of a chain hanging from the man’s neck. It pulled taut for a moment, then the clasp gave way, the stranger fell back leaving the gold medallion and chain in the captain’s hand. He gazed at it, staring at the strange writing. Casting the chain aside, it found the hole in a broken jar of oil and sank to the bottom.
In his moment of hesitation, the stranger moved around him. The captain recovered and turned to give chase, feeling murderous. Long years of practice in turbulent seas kept his footing steady as the ship rolled from side to side.
Then the vessel lurched to port, a whole row of neatly lined amphorae shifted and slid across the deck, sweeping the Captain off his feet. He felt more than heard the bone in his leg snap; a searing pain registered like a bolt of lightning before his eyes. Howling in anguish, he tried to pull himself over the bed of broken clay jars.
The hull of the vessel shuddered accompanied by a tearing, scraping sound. The rolling ceased. Fear took hold as understanding cut through his pain. The frames and timbers groaned over the sound of the storm, then a crackling noise as the keel snapped; the wales of the ship pulled apart like pieces of cardboard torn by an unseen giant. Seawater flooded into the hold from both sides.
The captain had but a fleeting moment to realize the ship had landed on a reef, her spine unable to withstand the enormous pressure of the vessel’s full weight. Then the seawater was on him, along with several tons of earthen jars smashing his bones and sherds cutting his flesh to ribbons. The captain looked up and felt a scream rise in his throat as a deck beam broke loose and dropped toward his face.
* * *
The stranger had reached halfway up the steps to the main deck when he heard the scream. He watched helplessly as the heavy wooden timber crushed the captain. He leaped up the two remaining steps knowing there was nothing he could do to help the man, and stood exposed on the deck, peering into the driving sheets of rain. Waves smashed over the sides, a small tidal wave of seawater swept him toward the side of the ship. A flash of lightning illuminated the landscape of an island only a hundred feet from the doomed vessel. As the stern lurched backward, sliding deeper into the water, he pitched over the side into the swells.
Terrified and disoriented, his head broke the surface. He tried to take a breath, but sea-spray filled his mouth. Choking and sputtering, he turned in the water to see the remaining wreckage slipping rapidly beneath the waves. Worse than the churning water, was the fear of smashing onto a rock as the ship had been.
He swam frantically in the direction of the island, but seemed to make no progress. He tried to catch the crest of a wave and ride it, hoping it would carry him toward the shore. The surge lifted and propelled him forward. Then, falling into the trough between waves, his feet touched something hard. He bobbed higher on the next roll, then down again. The noise swirling around him changed. With incredible relief, he recognized the sound of waves crashing on the beach, and offered a prayer he would make it the rest of the way.
Copyright © by Gary Nilsen 2009, 2012