The Gardens of Ryepar
Danel stood rigid against the rain, a solitary sentinel. The ship’s deck undulated beneath him. The pelting rain coalesced with the sea’s salt-laden spray and hid his tears. He unconsciously shook his head from side to side. The rain was his constant companion, a leaden tempest for over a month now. Nothing changed, the same endless waters circled the ship, the same endless tempest. He maintained his post and dared the dark, the wind, and the rain to strip away his grief. Any remaining tears merged with the storm. Here his thoughts were his only companion.
No land…hope fading. His grief was new, raw—a persistent shroud, ever-present. His mother Helene, and most of the crew were now gone, struck down by illness and the storm. Tears from heaven. That’s what she called the deluge. Now it seemed so much more. The skies bellowed with wrath. She had known something bad was coming. That is why Helene had begged Turel to let them come along on this simple trading mission. At first, he refused but then relented under his wife’s stubborn persistence. Maybe, she wanted to show Turel her son was worthy or perhaps she wanted her family to be together.
All he wanted to do was hide, here alone on the deck at least he felt needed. The captain had welcomed his help, but now the master was gone as was most of the crew. Four were left. Before the old mariner had died, he had taught him about the sea, wind, and the ship. Since their voyage started, Danel had spent the majority of his time on deck. Danel was captain now, reluctantly commissioned by Turel, his stepfather. At nineteen, he was the youngest. He shivered in his drenched clothing. A premonition of danger rose in his gut. A too-close flash of lightning made him flinch; he tensed in anticipation of the answer. The expected thunder cracked immediately—betraying its proximity with the pungent sweet smell of ozone. His eyes readjusted to the darkness. Nothing had changed. The sea around the ship swirled in a never-ending mass of waves and foam. The premonition remained.
Once they put out to sea, the deluge hit. Turel had called off the mission and tried to return home. That had failed. The storm clouds obscured the stars and the ship wandered, blind.
A distant flash of lightning revealed several irregular-shaped clouds. Danel stared forward, as the darkness quickly returned, not sure of what he saw. Were they clouds? Land? Were his eyes just tired? He strained to look ahead and hoped for another flash to pierce the darkness. He maintained his vigil, focused ahead—waiting. His patience was rewarded with an enormous blue-white burst of light. He instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes. As the intensity waned, the shapes in the distance resolved into distinct masses. They weren’t clouds! Was it land? His eyes alone were unable to confirm his suspicions. He adjusted their course towards the possibility.
Amidst the drone of the dark angry sea, he heard something, a distant sound. As the ship continued its course, the sound became clearer. The distinctive crash of breakers. Had they found land? A reef? How far?
“Rocks ahead!” he bellowed to his shipmates below. A minute passed. He was about to yell again when Turel stormed onto the deck.
“Rocks? Where boy?” Turel grunted.
“Listen,” Danel answered pointing ahead.
“I hear nothing,” Turel frowned.
“Try again.”
Turel backhanded Danel sending him tumbling to the deck. “I hear nothing. You’re wrong!”
Danel stood up, rubbed his face, and stared defiantly at Turel pointing to where he had heard the sound.
Turel looked out over the dark waves where Danel pointed and listened. Turel was imposing—a full head and a half taller than Danel. His step-father’s people were larger and stronger than his own. The roar of the wind abated for a brief moment. Turel’s eyes opened wide. “Breakers, large ones,” he slapped Danel on his back. “Get your brother and sister up here, now,” he commanded, relieving Danel of his post.
Danel made his way to the hatch, only to meet Tavel as he climbed out onto the deck.
“What’s going on?” Tavel yawned and stretched, grimacing at the rain.
“Breakers… big ones off the bow,” Danel answered.
“Are you sure?” Ana smirked at Danel, as she hauled herself through the hatch.
“Listen,” interrupted her older brother. He broke into a grin, “Breakers, land at last!”
Ana searched for the sound, unconvinced at first, then smiled and nodded. “How close are we?” The lightning ahead answered as it revealed fast-approaching towering cliffs of gray rock. The thunder merged with the angry breakers as they dashed against the rock face. “That close,” she muttered.
“Turn,” ordered Turel, as he motioned Danel and Tavel to take the wheel. “Find somewhere we can land.” The crew jumped into action. With Tavel’s help, Danel struggled to steer the heavy ship away from the rocks.
Ana went for the weighted knotted cord to measure the depth of the water. She pulled it from the storage locker, then staggered to the bow to await further orders.
The treacherous current drove the craft towards the cliffs. Tavel and Danel tried to compensate, as they kept the bow away from the land. That slowed the ship’s eventual destruction, but the ship’s fate was certain. Danel looked to Turel for help. The man’s defeated look told him that he had resigned himself to this fact. They only needed to choose the place where they would try to make land. What was their best chance for survival? They had already lost so much—the crew, friends, family—soon the ship. All that remained were his stepfather, stepbrother, and stepsister. No more death! He needed to find a beach, a cove, anywhere where they might land.
A faint glow signaled the start of sunrise. At least they would be able to see where they would land. Danel heard Turel’s command, “Start the cord.”
Ana threw the knotted cord to measure the depth of the water. She watched it sink and let out the line until ten knots had passed. She then began coiling up the cord and called out, “Ten plus.”
Through the haze, Danel saw three tall dark spires of rock jutting out of the water ahead. The current relentlessly drove them towards the rocks and catastrophe.
“We can’t go around,” Danel yelled through the wind to Turel. “Our only chance is to go between them.”
“Nine,” called Ana.
The older man’s brow furrowed in thought. He glanced over to his oldest, who simply nodded, Tavel’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the railing. “May the gods keep us safe,” Turel said slowly.
Danel surveyed their position, the three large spires lay directly ahead. To the left, smaller rocks jutted toward steep cliffs, cutting off that route. To the far right, the last spire of the three was too far out to circumvent. That left one impossible option. Danel then adjusted their course towards the middle spire. Turel shot him a questioning look. “We’ll head toward the center rock. At the last moment, we veer into the gap between the first and second. The current itself will hopefully give us the speed to pass through.”
“Seven.”
Danel looked at Turel whose brow knotted in a forced smile, “I’d like to see that.”
So would I, thought Danel, as he adjusted their course to aim right of the center spire. He judged the current and looked up. The one last unshredded sail, strained, filled with too much wind. If it failed, they were dead. The wind drove the ship and gave him control. If they held course, they would wreck on the rocks. At the proper moment, he would alter course to catch the current scooting through the narrow gap. The tricky part of the plan was the timing. He maintained his course and with his step-brother’s added help, fought the current.
Thirty yards from the rock, he altered the ship’s course to catch the changing wind. The ship’s speed increased. They were committed. Ahead the current divided. The smaller part, his path, bubbled angrily as it sliced through the two rocks. The remainder bled toward the gray cliff and destruction. The challenge lay before him, skill and luck, his tools.
“Six.”
Danel adjusted the course again as they drew closer to the rock. Their vessel’s draft was four. Only with luck could they pass. “We need to ride the proper current,” he explained to Turel. “Get ready, it’ll be rough,” he told the rest.
“Ready,” grunted his step-brother, the cords in his neck strained.
“F…five.”
“On my command,” said Danel as he leaned forward to judge the course. He tensed as he waited for the perfect moment. “Now!” he yelled pulling the nose around. The ship fought the turn, he and his brother strained at the tiller. The ship creaked and grumbled against the sea, as it fought its way into the narrow channel.
“Four.”
Danel’s stomach soured. The ship’s keel screamed as it scraped against the rocks below. The surge lifted the ship, then retreated smashing the craft on the hidden rocks. The last sail ripped free. He cringed. Their progress slowed. The swell and current played with the ship. They bounced forward through the narrow passage. The timbers of the ship cracked with abuse. The surge continued to lift, then dropped the boat on the rocks below. He was sure water was breaching the hull.
“Five.”
The vessel felt sluggish, weary with added seawater but they were through.
“There.” Turel pointed to a flat area framed by a promontory of dangerous rocks.
Danel nodded and with Tavel’s help tried to set a course to beach their craft. With no sails left, it was useless. The ship responded like a drunken sponge. “She’s taking on too much water. We won’t make it.”
Turel barked, “You three start bailing, I’ll take the tiller.” He then relieved Danel and Tavel, who joined Ana to grab buckets. They formed a brigade. Below deck, Ana filled the buckets and lifted them to her brother. Tavel passed them on to Danel, who emptied then passed them back. Turel did his best to maintain their course. The ship continued to flounder. No matter how much water they bailed, more continued to pour in. The current continued to push them off course towards the rocks. Doomed to wreck on the rocks, Danel watched the old man resign himself to his only option. They would have to abandon the doomed ship and swim for it. They needed to get closer. Danel knew Tavel and Ana weren’t strong swimmers and wasn’t sure about Turel.
“Stop the buckets. Come here,” Turel said, shoulders slumped. As they gathered around, he took a deep breath, straightened up and spoke, “Our ship has brought us this far, but her destiny is the rocks. We lost our small boat, so we will have to swim to survive.”
“It’s t… too far,” stuttered Ana her gaze fixed on the distant shore.
“I can make it,” Tavel said his face flushed with fear, “but I’m not sure the runt can.”
“I’m fine,” answered Danel. “If we can find something that floats, we could kick our way to shore. Our strength would last longer,”
Tavel and Ana softened with relief when they heard this. Their father grunted, “Do it.” The group began a frantic search for anything that would float.
Danel grabbed the cord Ana had used to measure the water’s depth and found a stout beam of wood. He found the others waiting for him. “We need to jump as far away from the ship as we can. Grab hold of the rope, stick together.”
Turel nodded as Danel wrapped the end of the cord around his hand and passed the rest to Tavel. He did the same, as did Ana and Turel. Chained together the group took two steps back. On Turel’s signal, they rushed forward and jumped into the water. The choppy sea greeted them. A large swell broke over their heads and disoriented them. The water was cool, but not cold. As the next wave rose, Danel rose with it. The others were with him. He was able to see their target and started to push the beam and angled away from the shore, to let the current keep them on course. The small group fought their way towards safety.
After an hour, they had covered half the distance, and Danel felt more confident. He did his best to conserve his strength, but he noticed Tavel and Ana begin to falter. Danel looked to his stepdad and then nodded with concern to the other two. By Turel’s expression, he had also noticed their lack of progress.
“Stop and regroup,” Turel barked. He looked at Tavel and Ana, then Danel to judge their respective conditions. The quartet huddled together to rest. Danel also evaluated the group. Turel still looked strong, but the other two’s vacant eyes betrayed their massive fatigue. They would not last much longer. A sound of splintering wood drew their eyes to the rocks, where their ship was being ripped apart. They watched, relieved they were not on board to share its fate.
Danel dodged a wave, “We’re half-way there.” He looked to Turel then to the other two and back again.
Turel shared a look of concern, and Danel nodded back. He would watch over his siblings.
“Signal if you need to rest,” added Turel.
They resumed, the eldest and youngest flanked the weaker swimmers. The group continued to kick slowly towards the shore. Tavel lost hold of the beam and cord and began to sink. Danel quickly came to his aid as he reached down into the sea and pulled him back up. As he broke the surface, Tavel began to cough. Danel re-wrapped the cord around Tavel’s wrist. Tavel smiled, nodded, and settled back into kicking his legs with the rest of the group. After that, they rested more often. Turel directed them to swim closer to each other to ensure no one was out of reach.
Danel himself was drained and began searching for the bottom whenever they paused. A hundred yards from shore he finally felt it. “I can feel the bottom,” he announced. Turel stood, his feet unsteady, grabbed Ana, and fought his way to the beach. Danel started to help his stepbrother to shore but Tavel pushed him away. He was relieved when Turel came back to Tavel’s aid. He and Turel then began to slosh through the last few yards to the shore as they pulled Tavel to safety. They were ashore, alive. Exhaustion and darkness took him.