Prologue: A Sailor's Story

The sun shone brightly above the galleon as Lorn paced the deck. He didn't understand why the sun brought him such comfort but watching the shadows dance away from the light always seemed to settle his nerves.

They were only a week away from making land off the coast of Vokria, at least that's what Darilus, the ship's captain had promised.

Should the Savior see it happen, thought Lorn, left hand clutching the 9-pointed star hanging around his neck.

He had more wealth and power than most men could ever want yet the rusted Savior's star remained his most valuable possession. That and his blade of course, and the winter coat his wife Lyra had gotten him.

Lorn's heart began to ache when he thought of her, the woman who taught a member of the Templars what love meant. 

"Should the Savior see it happen," muttered Lorn thinking of Lyra's health.

"You Templars do nothin' but pray eh?"

Lorn turned to look at Darilus, the portly captain appeared to be several drinks deep and the sun was still high.

"Prayer is what gives us our strength" replied Lorn.

"Aye, prayer and those nasty blades the each of ya carries."

Lorn would have laughed if they hadn't had the same exchange the last three days.

"You have news for me captain?" he asked

"Nothin important commander," Darilus replied, "Some uh the men are playing shoots in the dining hall, does a commander good to show he cares for his men."

"You think I don't care for them?" Lorn asked.

"Nae, I think you're awful at showin it."

Lorn sighed and fidgeted with the sleeves on his shirt, it was true but to hear the words from a second-rate merchant hurt.

"Very well, however, there will be no betting on the game. To profit off the loss of another is one of the 9 wrongs."

"Yes, sir commander!" Darilus shouted as he made a mocking salute.

The two of them were nearly at the dining hall when Lorn heard the raucous laughter reverberating from the room. To most such sounds would be inviting but to Lorn they were a reminder of the life he would never live.

Darilus must have noticed his apprehension and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You walk in with a face like that and you'll scare the fun right out of 'em. Smile aye."

How easy it must be for him Lorn thought, looking at the smile that always remained plastered to Darilus' face.

"Well damn, I was just messin' with ya, if looks could kill I'd be in paradise right now." the captain laughed.

"Sorry, I was just… thinking about stuff," Lorn finished awkwardly.

"Don't sweat it, get some drinks in ya and you'll come right outta that shell. I'm sure."

The drunk faces of his men and a few sailors greeted Lorn when he stepped into the hall. A dozen or so men sat around the wooden table holding the wood cubes used in shoots.

"Sir!" His men saluted, though more than one tripped over themself as they tried to stand.

"At your leisure," replied Lorn, "I heard there was a game of shoots, I'm not too bad myself."

"No need to be humble," laughed Darilus, "You just told me you could beat these shits blindfolded didn't ya?"

"Did I?"

"Aye, ye did."

The men laughed and handed Lorn one of the cubes. 

"What are the rules?" whispered Lorn to Nesin, one of his youngest men.

"I thought you said you'd played?" the young shot back.

Lorn shrugged, "A commander must keep up appearances, now what are the rules?"

"It's just shoots, every player has a cube with one side marked you see," 

Lorn looked down at the wood piece in his hand with a crudely carved letter on one of the sides.

"each player takes a turn tossing their cube and hoping to land on the marked side. If a player yells shoot while the cube is in the air and it lands on the marked side they claim the pot, if it lands on another side the caller is out." 

"What?" Lorn looked shocked, "It's nothing but luck then. What fool would play this child's game?"

"Let me finish commander." said Nesin, "If no one calls shoot the tosser automatically wins their own round."

"Don't forget our house rules." added one of the sailors, "losers drink." 

Only right for a game of fools, thought Lorn.

"Alright, alright, I think I've understood it. Let me try a round"

Lorn watched closely as Nesin tossed his cube in the air with more focus than he'd ever seen the young Shyra display.

"Shoot!" yelled two of the men.

"Fuck!"

"I thought I had it!"

Dumbfounded Lorn watched as Nesin collected the buy-in pot and the two losers skulked to the back of the room. How could such a mindless game be popular? Was he the strange one for not throwing money away on such pointless events?

"Come on commander it's your turn."

Snapped from his thought Lorn tossed the cube above the table. 

"Shoot!" yelled a voice from behind Lorn.

Against the odds, the cube landed on the marked side.

"Heh, I still got it," said Darilus with a foolish grin.

"Hey, he's not even in the game." protested Lorn.

"House rules." laughed Darilus, "This means I take your spot by the way."

"Damn better luck next time Commander," said Nesin in an attempt at consolation. 

Lorn sighed as he gave up his seat, a good commander always keeps his cool, he thought, suppressing his irritation.

Walking by the makeshift bar he poured himself a drink and turned to watch the game. The Templars were a group of soldiers but in moments like this one wouldn't be able to tell.

The men played shoots long into the night yet the smile left many of their faces. Darilus had won his 7th hand in a row rounding out an already dominant performance.

"It's gotta be cheating," said Riltae, one of the many noble scions under Lorn's watch.

"Ain't no one cheating." laughed Darilus.

"Then how'd we see it happen, huh?"

"The captains got a knack for things like dis, isn't that right men?" boasted one of the sailors.

"Aye, swear he uses some magic or something of the sort."

"Captain Darilus, a Mage?" said Nesin, "That's like callin a horse a carriage, or a Rahasi whore a lady."

All the men except Lorn laughed.

"You know, they'd be allowed to kill ya for that quip down in Rahas right?" said Darilus grinning at Nesin.

"You've been?" interjected Lorn, "I thought you only sailed the great sea crossing?"

"Now, I only sail the great sea crossing, back in my youth I sailed wherever the winds would take me."

"You been to Norkuss?" asked Riltae.

"Aye."

"What about the Spicelands?"

"Aye, twice" 

"Tell 'em a story captain!" shouted one of the sailors.

"Aye!"

"A story!"

The sailors' chants slowly rose to a crescendo until it seemed the room was shaking. Slowly rising to his feet Darilus cleared his throat.

"Ahem, it seems another of my signature stories is due"

All eyes were on him now, the room silent as Darilus stood still, a reminiscent look on his face. The sailors looked at their captain expectantly and the Shyra stared as though their gaze would pierce his thoughts.

Finally, Lorn saw the usual smile return to his face but something about it struck him as odd. It was similar to the smile Lorn made when he waved Lyra goodbye as the ship parted from the dock. 

"This story," began Darilus, "is one I heard when I lived in a city called Ellugashju in a land far far away. You see this city was in the heart of a vast swamp, larger than the largest empire you can imagine."

"In this land, the people worshipped a Serpent as their god. It's said that this was a divine serpent whose scales flourished with vibrant blues and purples and whose eyes were darker than night. The serpent's name was Ellugashju, the grinning serpent, Ellu meaning serpent, and Gashju meaning sees the divine."

The people lived in harmony under the Serpent's protection, the only rule was that they must never enter his cave. And so the people of the swamp thrived, with guidance from such an ancient creature they built monuments of stone that reached the sky and sang songs that would make grown men weep. But alas all good things are bound to ruin.

Darilus paused, a somber look passed through his eyes as he stuck out his hand.

"A drink if ya please."

Lorn handed him a mug.

"You Templars really can't brew an ale to save ya miserable lives can ye? Where was I?"

"But alas all good things are bound to ruin," spoke Lorn.

"Right. But alas all good things are bound to ruin. One of the townspeople, a little girl noticed something odd about their guardian, the serpent was growing, the townspeople laughed and explained to the foolish girl that a divine creature doesn't follow the laws of mortals."

"But what does it eat, asked the girl to which the townspeople found they could not answer. They asked the town elder however she did not know either, so they traveled to another clan and asked what their valiant protect, ate. How does the serpent continue to grow? And once again there was no answer, and so clan after clan they asked until the only person left to hear their question was the serpent itself."

"The clan elders got on their knees and shouted, oh glorious protector, Ellugashju, patron of the swamp, how is it that you continue to grow in size? We fear that you are devouring the world outside of our swamp."

Ellugashju raised his scaled head and looked down at the subjects prostrating themselves at his feet, is that truly the question you wish to pose? I do not believe you care about the actions I have taken but rather that you fear what I may do. I am Ellugashju, the guardian serpent, my existence shall devour the world itself, but take solace for I will fulfill my duty as patron of the swamp and devour you last. And so they lived happily ever after."

A long silence passed over the bar, the sailors chuckling at the absurdity of it all and the Templars disappointed in the abrupt ending. 

"I don't think I understand the point," said Nesin.

"I doubt any of us do," spoke Riltae, 

"None of captain's stories got points, that's why they're fun." laughed one of the sailors.

Slowly the men trickled out of the room, Lorn as well made his way to the solitude of his room. They would make land soon but Lorn could pay that no mind, his memory was transfixed on Darilus. The Captain had stared at him as he told the story, and watched him with eyes as dark as night itself.