WAVEBREAKER CHAPTER 4: LOOK DOWN
Merrick had laughed.
“Raiding a pirate island?” He had said. “No, it’s just our first stop on the way south.”
“ONE!” The rowing captain shouted. Energy tickled as it crawled up my arms and I heaved back.
This time I wasn’t sweating at least.
“TWO!”
Our pace was sedate through the day, rotating between four shifts to maintain a constant heading. The wind only blew towards major island chains, which meant smaller islands or distant lands could only be reached with rowing teams. My shift would be over soon.
The deck smelled like sweat and salt and the hanging iron of fishblood
Before it could finish I heard a crack above on the main deck, the sound booming through the entire ship.
“Don’t relax now! Rowers, push! Both columns, ONE!” The magister commanded again. The columns shouted as we pushed the boat forward. Already, I could feel the wind pick up. We had gotten close enough that the tiny, localized air currents pulled the ship inward.
After only a few more minutes, the magister called out again.
“Rowers, release. Your shift is over.”
People in both columns nearly collapsed, some staggering into their rows or falling back into their benches. I stood. After three consecutive trips, the ache in my muscles was little more than a good work out.
We weren’t headed to the flooded grail to raid it.
Hires from the Steel Archipelago didn’t participate in piracy for foreign nations. But those who lived on the pirated islands that had floated far from civilization? They would kill for coin.
I pushed through to the top deck, having to elbow and shove my way through the other rowers who were climbing to the top of the boat. The crew was slowly coming back to life, the murmur of the crowded boat growing into a roar by the moment.
The last few days had been placid.
Not many had try to flee the ship, and those that did met a swift death.
The crew pressed to the side of the Shelly, the ship we were on. Some stared at the colossus that towered over the rest of the fleet; others stared at the distant pirate island. I climbed the stairs to the next deck up; then the next. I could hear myself think there; the murmuring of the crew was reduced to a distant hush.
A fog hung low to the water, concealing the distant island. Unlike the Steel Archipelago, this island was alone. Not every nation had the resources to commission fleets to hunt the steel leviathans that ruled the ocean, and without them, it was impossible to build new islands.
The Flooded Grail was unlike any place I had ever seen. It had been broken and patched back together. I drank in the details as we approached.
Though from a farther distance it had appeared whole, from closer I could see the discoloration where new metal had replaced the old. The discolored metal was the size and shape of a dozen ships arranged together; it took me a moment to realize what I was seeing was the imprint left behind from a leviathan’s jaw.
All of humanity lived on steel islands buoyed in the waves and yet monsters long enough to swallow them lived below.
Wooden stilts and machinery littered the side of the island, but what I was seeing didn’t quite make sense; the metal of the island rose high above the water. Its opposite side was covered in barnacles and hanging algae that sunk into the water. It had been tilted, I realized. From here I could see a winding path that led deep into the hollow center of the Flooded Grail.
A floating series of docks spread out in a confusing and crisscrossing pattern; huge nets hung from them. They bobbed in the waves, the half dozen ships in the water bobbing with them, and there must have been hundreds of people pushing and shoving to keep their positions them. The smell of salt and moss warred with each other even from where I was, so far away.
Ships left their docks and began to row away at our fleets approach.
The colossus sped forward, mages shifting the wind and waves to push it faster than any other ship. With speed and practiced ease it began to anchor itself to the docks in minutes. Our ship wasn’t far behind. When we approached the dock, the crowd on it grew more frantic, shoving harder and fighting for positions, yelling and shouting and fighting for the first position to be a killer for hire. A single ramp up the ship opened, the ships guards shoving and poking people into an orderly line below me, while boats approached to take us to shore.
I took the first ship I could, eager to stretch my legs on land.
The dirt and moss aboard the Steel Archipelago was perfectly controlled and managed, the structures of the islands upright and undamaged. Here, I took my first step off the pier into muddy water and solid salt. The staircase I walked up creaked with every step, the solid steel of the island sucking the heat from the air. Ivy and barnacle warred for control over the side of the surface, gouging my hands as I leaned on them for balance. I was fortunate to have callouses.
The staircase stopped at the top where the proper island began. Houses grew from the side of what should have been the floor. There was even a semblance of order; the structures rose like a staircase against the slope of the island.
I got my first look at the mechanisms on the island here. A towering contraptions of ropes and pulleys lifted huge buckets that sloshed with saltwater. Birds flew down and pecked at the sides of them. Some were in disrepair, slowly draining water out the side. They sloped down and away from the wall before turning sideways, dumping the water into the sea. They returned with fresh water, hauling it back.
They were pulling the water from somewhere deeper into the island. The metal had been long peeled away in a spot that allowed the buckets to dip into the island, the warping visible where the steel had been damaged.
The crowd shoved around me, pushing me forward slightly as my eyes wandered the staircase like construction of buildings rising from the side of the island.
I ran a hand over my backpack, assuring it was still there, before climbing the steps to a shop. The towering side of the island cast the outer city into shade despite there being plenty of light filtering through the clouds.
This led to a strange contrast in the shop I approached; glass covered the walls nearly from floor to ceiling, with metal bars protecting them. The display cases and shelves along the windows were packed with junk; books piled in one corner, rusted weapons in another. A pile of foreign currency took a prominent display; unknown metal artifacts with plaques warred for their own places. Oil lamps cast orange light over all of it.
I pulled the door open, feeling a swell of heat rush out from in the building, and pulling it shut behind me, before stopping to look around. The amount of stock was overwhelming. The man behind the counter looked up from a water damaged book before shaking his head and looking back down.
I explored the shop.
The extra pay from this trip meant I would have a little extra left over. Hires from the Steel Archipelago weren’t expected to fight. But every night I thought of all the ways this trip could go so horribly wrong so quickly, and I resolved to find a way to defend myself.
Scraps of bleached leather contained information on the goods lining the shelves and their prices in a half dozen languages. My eyes flew over swords and scraps of armor, often rusted. Probably stolen or dispossessed from dead owners who sat at the bottom of the sea. Armor was far too expensive and a sword would do me no good; I had neither the class nor training to use one. I’d sooner injure myself than fight with one.
I stopped and stared at a guard in the center of a store. He stared back at me, eyes sharp, expression dangerous, hand on his sword. I had no idea why until I looked past him.
There was a column in the center of the shop. It was made of glass and steel. It glowed a horrible red, a gemstone the size of my fist sitting in the center on a plaque.
“Is that — that’s a Leviathan’s heart.” I said, turning back to the shop owner. He was a tiny man, wind worn and beaten down, and he looked back to his book without answering me. It was obvious enough what it was.
A Leviathan’s heart — it was a core component to creating a Colossus, the flag ships that dominated modern warfare and mankinds subjugation of the ocean both. They were somehow also used in the construction of islands.
That much was public knowledge, along with what they looked like.
“Is it real?” I asked, walking as close to the column as I dared. The guard leaned forward dangerously.
“Can’t afford it.” The shopkeeper said. He wasn’t wrong.
I was setting my ambitions far too high by even looking at it. With a sigh, I turned and examined the rest of the shop. The guard followed me, looping around the column; it seemed the most valuable goods were stored here. Books with a slight glow sat on these shelves alongside swords that were rust free and retained a sharp edge despite their scabbards being marked with barnacles.
And then there was a stick of gnarled wood.
I almost reached out to touch it before stopping myself; I needed both of my arms and the guard seemed bored enough to go for it. Reading the leather scrip to the side instead, I realized why it was here.
Druid Staff; Adonsia. 2 Gold
There was a half dozen notes on the currency cost for other currencies. I skimmed to the bottom where the description of the staff continued.
Unlocks Druid skill enabling manipulation of living wood
That would be incredible if my druid class was useful at all. I kept browsing the shelves. The bell ringed as another customer entered the shop. There were a few daggers that were the right size for me; I found one with a handle, unenchanted, and bought it and a file with a few silver.
That staff alone would’ve cost me as much as a small ship. Instead I had to make due with a small dagger.
With the scabbard on my belt I stepped away from the surface. The shops here were covered in fine paints and tall glass windows, stuffed with stolen goods and rich foods. The world was falling into darkness, shadows spreading quick over the Grail. I walked down the wooden stair ways that grew out of salt piles, diving into the core of the island. Buildings were stacked on top of each other. A support framework of steel beams and pillars criss crossed to create a flat ground covered with iron gridding.
Far below, below where the city leaned haphazardly against the wall, was a massive pool of water. Hundreds of lights were reflected on its surface like a night sky. Boats trawled across the bottom.
This was where the Flooded Grail got its name. The great chain of buckets lifted water out and dumped it away while more water was added from the sea. There was a rythmic splash, splash, splash, like the sound of waves assaulting the shore, echoing constantly in the cavern. I let the crowd carry me forward and followed my nose to the scent of food.
I found myself in a motley tavern filled with a half dozen accents and cigarette smoke. When I pushed the door open, a man with an eyepatch caught my eye, smiling with rows of sharpened teeth. A furry animal danced two legged on his table.
I pushed through the tavern to the bar, coughing back cigarette smoke. One table held a card game and was covered in silver coins. At another, a group of some caste of priests poured over books while smoking. After ordering food and drink I picked an empty table in the back and pulled free my knife, scraping at the rust on it.
“You from the Steel Isles?” A man on my right leaned over to ask.
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