Dark to the West (Part 2)

"Pray tell, where have we arrived, Aunt?" Allendra inquired, gazing at the daunting cave entrance before them.

"We are in Ogerport, my dear," Lena replied with a tinge of melancholy. "This must be the clandestine gateway to the fabled mountains, the cradle of ogres, trolls, and hill giants. The Black Desert sprawls beyond those peaks, a treacherous expanse inhabited by these brutish creatures you hear grunting."

Allendra's heart pounded in her chest. "We must flee, aunt. We must run away."

Lena chuckled, her voice deepening with amusement. "And where will you run to, my child? We stand in the very lair of the beast. If The Darkest One calls to you, you must answer."

Allendra trembled, her body quaking like a leaf in the wind. "I'm afraid," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can hear the beast calling to her."

"Who is calling whom?" Lena asked, her eyes glinting with confusion. But Allendra had already bolted out of the cabin, leaving Lena alone with her thoughts and fears.

The clamor of a boat being lowered and rowed was scarcely audible amid the cacophony of groans and high-pitched shrieks reverberating off the cavernous walls, enveloping them in a foreboding symphony.

Allendra stepped onto the deck. Although she could discern little, she could discern the myriad creatures perched on the ceiling and ledges, their countless eyes aglow in the twilight, fixated on her. With trepidation, she approached the captain.

"Pray, Captain Barth, let us depart this place," Allendra beseeched him.

"Silence, you witless girl!" Barth barked, his face twisted in fury. "Flee if you wish to evade the savagery of these beasts!"

The half-orc, Hoargh, appeared and yanked Allendra away. "Brothers eat raw. Go," he muttered in his halting dialect.

A volley of spears hurtled towards them, but Hoargh was prepared, deflecting them with his round wooden shield. He escorted Allendra to the cabin, their hearts pounding with fear.

"Far, far, run," Hoargh murmured, his eyes, watery and brimming with apprehension, scanning the gloom.

"I would not have ventured here if not for my aunt," Allendra sighed, resigned to her fate.

They lingered in the cave for what felt like an eternity until, at last, the boat returned. Several more boats followed, ferrying over twenty creatures onto the ship. As Allendra had suspected, the two elves and Bishop had disembarked and returned with twenty orcs and three ogres in tow.

On that day, Allendra happened to eavesdrop on yet another conversation among the group.

"We must lay an ambush," Baaz declared, his voice brimming with determination. "With our superior numbers, we will have the upper hand if they do not bring reinforcements. We must seize this opportunity."

"No! We have discussed this already. The plans have changed," Bishop objected urgently.

Raaz, impatient and eager for action, spoke up. "Can we not spare a few days to engage them in battle? I am itching to test my sword arm."

Bishop let out a weary sigh. "No, we do not have the luxury of time. We must set sail for Pharrah at once. If they continue to pursue us, we can prepare a small surprise for them. But we will not waste any more time engaging with them."

"Your obsession with waking the God of Snakes will get you killed," Baaz commented, his tone almost threatening.

"I am willing to die if it means fulfilling my duty and awakening the God," Bishop replied with unwavering determination.

The group fell into a tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts and doubts, uncertain of what the future held. Allendra had already slipped away from her hiding place, her fear of Baaz overwhelming her.

The Blackened sailed westward once more, hugging the shore as closely as possible. They journeyed on for three days through murky waters until they reached the Burning Sea. For the next six days, they traversed the scorching waters, braving the choking smog billowing from the Phyrnos Volcanoes. Allendra stood on deck, her eyes peeled towards the shore, watching in awe as fiery lava cascaded down the mountains, setting the sea ablaze with hues of red and yellow.

As they passed by Faveran, the final city on the southern coast of the Continent of Fire, The Blackened began to veer westward, straying further from the shoreline. Allendra gazed towards the north, her heart pounding with apprehension as she beheld the ominous clouds of soot rising from the ranks of towering volcanoes in the distance.

After rounding Faveran, they turned northward and sailed on, with the sight of Savaran Island visible in the far-off west. Then came the Swamp Strait, a treacherous waterway separating the Green Continent from the dark realm of Ankyra. This proved to be the most perilous leg of their journey yet.

The stench that greeted them was indescribably foul, a miasma of toxic gas permeating every inch of air. Deepwater geysers occasionally erupted, filling the crew with terror at the prospect of an explosion. The gas was acidic and noxious, causing watering eyes and burning throats among those exposed to it. Scarves were worn by all to mitigate the toxic fumes.

Finger-sized mosquitoes and noisy frogs were the least of their troubles in this putrid and oppressive atmosphere. The ship constantly collided with gigantic leafy plants of varying shades of green, slowly drifting through the mire. Allendra could hardly bear the fetid air and could scarcely imagine how much worse it would get as they continued their voyage.

If they had asked Captain Barth, he would have proudly recounted the feats of navigation that he had accomplished on this perilous route. His cursed ship, the Blackened, had once again proven her worth. Only a captain of his skill and experience could have guided his vessel safely through this dangerous zone.

The Swamp Sea was a treacherous place, and small boats were the only means of transport for the locals. The sight of the Blackened, with her towering masts and imposing figurehead, was a source of astonishment for the people of the region, who regarded the crew's audacity with a mixture of awe and amusement.

But the greatest advantage of the caravel was her strength, which allowed her to withstand the attacks of even the mightiest beasts. Allendra had never seen a creature as fearsome as the giant crocodile that had attacked them, with its green-brown scales and its jaws capable of swallowing the ship whole. But the Blackened was no ordinary vessel, and her crew of orcs and ogres fought valiantly against the beast, hurling arrows and spears at it in a desperate attempt to drive it away. Despite their efforts, it seemed that nothing could penetrate the creature's thick hide. Allendra noticed that It was only when Baaz unleashed his hidden crossbow and sent a tiny arrow piercing into the crocodile's eye that the beast finally turned tail and fled. Bishop cast some dark spells adding to the fear and confusion of the beast. Lena too had contributed to the battle with her limited magic.

As the giant crocodile disappeared beneath the murky waters of the Swamp Sea, the group of painted-faced locals, clad in nothing but leather loincloths, applauded and bowed before the crew in fear and reverence. They were members of an underdeveloped tribe, unfamiliar with such a display of bravery and skill. The shaman of the tribe declared that day the Crocodile Kidnapper Festival, and the people celebrated it from dusk until dawn, marking it as a day of great significance in their history books, which no one else cared about.

The Blackened, with her record of exploits that would never be recorded in any maritime history book, crossed the Marsh Strait in three days, without stopping at Therru Port. Five days later, they arrived at Moralice Port, where they remained for more than half a day, stockpiling provisions and supplies. Four more days of sailing brought them across the warm waters of the Pharrasmar Sea, where they finally stopped offshore on one of the countless beaches of the Pharrah Desert, covered with endless stretches of sand that seemed to go on forever.

On that day, the Captain and the Bishop were overheard in a heated argument, the likes of which had never been witnessed before. The Captain, known to all as Barth, vehemently refused to set sail on the treacherous Sea of Snakes, as he had already been at sea for months and had recently braved the dangerous Swamp Strait in just three days.

"I'll not be putting my cursed ship, Blackened, in harm's way once more," he declared to the Bishop, his voice ringing with defiance. But the Bishop, a man of the cloth with a dark heart, would not take no for an answer. "You will do as I say, you blasted bastard!" he roared, his eyes ablaze with anger.

Undeterred, Barth stood his ground. "I brought you this far. What more can I do?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

But then the Bishop's demeanor changed, and he spoke in a soft, insidious tone. "Perhaps you are right, Captain Barth. It may not be wise to test the Sea of Snakes," he said, his voice dripping with honeyed poison. "But we cannot remain idle. We are being followed. We do not know how powerful our enemies are. We must find a way to avoid them."

Barth's eyes widened in surprise. "Followed? By whom?" he asked.

"That is not important," the Bishop replied, waving his hand dismissively. "What is important is that we must not face them now. If we do, we will be doomed. But your ship, Blackened, can serve as a decoy to stall our pursuers while we make our escape. Do you understand now, Captain?"

Barth nodded slowly. "I understand," he said. "I'll keep them busy for as long as I can. But what about me? What will happen to me?"

The Bishop gave him a sly grin. "If you help us evade our enemies and reach our destination safely, you will be rewarded. You will be freed from your curse, as I promised."

Barth emerged from his cabin in a daze, his mind reeling from the conversation he had just had with the Bishop. He knew that he had just agreed to undertake a dangerous mission, one that could potentially cost him his life. But he also knew that he had no choice. The fate of his crew and his ship lay in his hands, and he would do whatever it took to ensure their safety.

As evening descended, the boats were lowered into the water. A band of twenty orcs, who had boarded the ship at Ogerport and were led by three towering ogres, along with the second group comprising of two elves, a sinister priest, and a little girl of merely six, rode in rowboats.

Lena watched them depart, feeling a sense of hopelessness and anxiety. The witch woman realized, once again, that she was nothing but a mere pawn in her master's schemes. The fear in her niece's eyes was unmistakable, but there was a hidden emotion in those eyes that intrigued the witch woman.

The boats cut through the turquoise waters, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of oars and the gentle lapping of waves, as they made their way towards the sandy beach that glowed with shades of pink and red.