Obviously it’s been quite a while since I wrote anything. The hacking of my website was a trainwreck that distracted me from my already-scattered attempt at working on this online novel. As such, I never wrote anymore content after November of 2011. Honestly, by the time I finally came up with a name for the story and set up the website, I’d already managed to forget most of the plot points of the tale. After another couple of years, it’s pretty much a complete blank. I’m tempted to just take the whole thing down, as I doubt it’ll ever amount to anything. I apologize to anyone who might have cared, though.
There was some hackery involved on my website. Sadly, I don’t think I needed to wipe everything and start over, but that’s what I did. That’ll teach me to panic. (I’ll know for the next time this happens again without my knowing why.)
Anyway, it’s not like there was a wealth of content to be replaced, so I’ve got the novel back up and hopefully someone will actually return to read it.
Sorry for any inconvenience.
They had their weapons drawn and ready, bodies taut in anticipation of imminent danger, when he said it.
“This place is deserted.”
While Calce appreciated that Fica was actually paying attention and would concede that it was indeed surprisingly quiet in the village, he knew that it wasn’t actually deserted and hoped to head off the usual round of absurd speculations that would come after one of the men would rattle off a paranoid observation. One “it’s too quiet” or “I think we’re not alone” could easily spin out of control into a full-on brawl or a shrieking disagreement that would give their position away to everyone within a two hour’s ride.
Calce Asino stared out across the blue waters of the bay. It was indeed blue, except for the bits that were more green, and there was a lot of it. As far as knowledge of the sea went, that was about the extent of his expertise.
Well, he also knew that he needed a boat. There had been the occasion that required him to float and, while his buoyancy was not in question, he somehow doubted his ability to bob the thousands of miles back to Terebintina or, in the opposite direction, on to the New Land. No, he was definitely going to need a boat. And not just the scarred and rough-looking rowboat that his men had dragged ashore and were unloading their gear from. No, a real ship, like the one that was currently at the bottom of the bay, part of its crew and cargo drifting placidly across those previously-mentioned blue waters. Something big, with sails and a crew that wasn’t currently dead or drowning. That would be their only ticket off of this gods-forsaken nugget of rock in the middle of the vast, definitely-blue ocean.
The ship was on fire. It hadn’t always been on fire. Oh, no, there were good times on the Fahla, when the decks hadn’t been ablaze and men weren’t careening off the sides, burning, as they fell into the dark blue waters of the cove below. Those had been good times.
Perhaps they had just seemed good, as Calce Asino was a passenger and his past two weeks at sea hadn’t consisted of back-breaking labor, spent baking in the sun, or violent waves nearly throwing him over the railing to his doom in the endless abyss. They also hadn’t been spent being burned alive, as Calce was so currently thankful for. No, he and his companions had mainly been below deck, whiling away the time by complaining, playing cards, and wishing they’d never accepted the task of crossing the oceans to the New Land.