Fiction:Waking the Storm

Calyx sighed as the fleeting form of ''Varuna's Grace receded from view. Eager to avoid Loretanian patrols, the hobgoblins had reversed course to brave the deep waters of the Turtle Sea.

The rythmic pulse of Nausicaa's'' hull cutting into the waves took some getting used to, but some had found it lulled them to sleep, preferring the foredeck to their staterooms in nice weather. Circe lay there now, taking a reprieve from her weather watch, and enjoying the hot sun in the way only she could. Calyx's eyes lingered over her glistening flesh, bronzed by her constant exposure, and covered by the most scant of fabrics, wondering just how much of her-

"Captain!" came the voice of Epinora, from the ship's helm. His eyes snapped away to fall upon the smirking face of ''Nausicaa's'' new commander. "Care to take a spin at the wheel? Or do you have...other business to attend to?"

"I'm not a captain anymore," he corrected her, striding swiftly up the steps. The wheel assembly was a bit bigger than he was used to, with a smaller, secondary wheel to the helmsman's right, presumably for manipulating the ship's canting keel. Cleverly, each wheel had a gauge to show the approximate position of the rudder and keel without the need for a spotter--assuming the gauges were kept well-calibrated.

"You may have handed your ship over to a bunch of hairy pirates, but you're still a captain." She averted her eyes as his gaze approached hers, fixing them instead on the seas ahead. She was a sight in a blue surcoat purloined from the previous, beastlier captain, far too large for a slight frame such as hers. It served only to minimally conceal the greatly shortened priestly vestments, haphazardly tailored at daggerpoint to make them more practical for hard overland travel. Similarly, a well-worn tricorn threatened to engulf her entire head, longing rather to sate itself on the ample cranium of a much larger hobgoblin.

"What manner of strange creatures are those hobbers, anyhow? To build a beauty like this, and yet apparently haven't figured out how to make a razor?" He chuckled as he ran a hand along the smooth wood of the wheel.

She smiled as she stepped sideways to give him room. "Actually, I don't think they made it themselves," she explained with a tilted smile.

"No." He gripped the wheel firmly, finding it surprisingly gentle in its resistance. "That they did not do." Seeing the sea flowing toward him at such speed was alarming at first, realize he alone held the power to steer the ship away from any fast-approaching ruin on a sandbar or reef. He tentatively spun the wheel counter-clockwise, and the ship shifted to starboard with a jolt.

"Woah!" Epinora exclaimed, tumbling against him. "Watch it there, tiger. It doesn't take much at these speeds." She righted herself, holding firmly to the railing around the helmsman's station. With one hand, she ratcheted the keel's wheel a few notches counter-clockwise while holding down a pedal with her foot.

"You've got to give it a bit of keel as you head into the wind, or she'll list a little bit. Five cranks starboard!" she hollered at the sailing deck. Without delay, the wood-and-clay monstrosities Hawk had crafted to replace the ship's sailing complement jumped into action, adjusting the masts' rotation just so to capture the wind.

"I don't like those things at all," she said with an untrusting glare in their direction, "but they get the job done." She watched as they heaved against cranks meant for creatures of much greater height and bulk, as comical as watching a handful of children play at sailors, and as surprising as watching them succeed.

At the wheel, Calyx's gaze was firm. His eyes pointed to the horizon, the ship's destination, but saw all around it. No one detail commanded more attention than any other. He perceived the ocean's current, the lapping motion of the waves, the slight fluttering of the sails, the silly, sputtering motion of the "sailors", the lithe, voluptuous form of Circe, and even the sparkling eyes of Epinora as she watched him at work.

Without warning, he gave the wheel another spin, more gently this time, and reached past Epinora to grasp the keel's wheel while depressing the pedal to unlock the clutch. It slipped a little too much, prompting him to grab the spinning wheel with both hands, trapping Epinora, who reached out to steady the rudder's wheel at the same time.

"It's a little...hard," she breathed, edging a foot forward to lock the rudder's wheel in place, "at first. It took me a day and half to work up the courage to run it all myself. It might be easier with...two."

Calyx locked the keel's wheel into place, and returned to the rudder's wheel. "Three cranks starboard!" he shouted to the animated crew, and they complied. "How much is a crank, anyhow?"

"About a degree and a half. Thirty will get you a half-angle to the keel. They can go almost far enough to run into each other, if you ever wanted that for some reason."

He glanced her way, then toward the sails. "This is pretty clever, what without any rigging and all. What happens if one of the sails gets stuck?"

The sails of the wingship were without rigging or stays, and were set entirely by manipulating a complex gear system and driving a capstan, which could furl or unfurl the sails on each yard from around the mast.

"I guess we climb up there and fix it? There are some tools in the forecastle for opening the mast sections, but I'm hoping we don't have to do much with that. And I sure wouldn't want to climb up there at these speeds."

He grinned. "Just how fast can she go?" She gave him a thoughtful shrug. "We'l just have to find out. You stay here, I'll go see if I can't scare up some wind." He left the helm to her care, and made for the foredeck.

"I think you'll find the wind's in no mood to help!" she called after him. With a sigh, she watched him bound toward Circe with an almost giddy step. "Bos'n!" she called down the deck below, where Saranac lay snoozing in the sun. With a few more calls, he opened dreary eyes and tilted his ears toward her. "Get all hands on deck. We're making a speed run."

---

A shadow fell over her face, blocking the orange glow and warming rays of the sun. With a pouting sound, Circe shifted to escape the shadow, but it persisted. There was a familiar scent in the air, a mix of musk and smoke that she knew well, but wasn't in the mood for at the moment.

"Go away," she mumbled, trying to regain her spot in the sun. She had been finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate since those frantic moments in the churning sea, as she chased the falling body of Morrigan, looking for a water orb that wasn't there. She was sure she felt the presence of the orb on the island, a powerful, yet welcoming sensation. Perhaps it was left behind, inexplicably, but she had been quite sure the mad half-dryad had taken it with her. Since that unproductive night, she had found the constant mental strain of concentrating on a stable tailwind quite intolerable. She had a headache, felt kind of sick to her stomach, and generally didn't want to be near-

"You've been lying here all day. You haven't made so much as a puff aboard this ship, and I'm not asking you to get back in the game. I just thought you might like to be part of a little fun we're having." She opened her eyes just so, glaring upward at him through her long eyelashes. As strikingly beautiful as she was, she could be very intimidating when she wanted to be. The added snarl was probably unnecessary, but she just wanted to make sure the message got across.

"Well hey there, missy, no need to get off in a huff. You don't have to do anything you don't wanna do." He took a seat next to her, allowing the sun once again to shed its warmth on her face. She sighed and reclined, stretching her arms above her head. Calyx couldn't help but watch the tiny patches of purple fabric balanced atop her generous breasts wage a desperate battle against an alliance of physical forces. "I only...thought you might enjoy a little bit of recreation, what with all the toil and trouble we've been brewin' of late."

"What I...would enjoy," she slipped between clenches and gasps as she stretched in all directions, writhing back and forth against the pale wooden deck, "is some time alone." She settled face down to sun her back, and motioned toward the tiny clasp on a brass chain, the last hope for reinforcements from the embattled fortresses beneath her ample cushion. Hesitantly, he unclasped it for her, as she rested her head upon folded hands, pausing only to making a shooing motion at him.

"Suit yourself, princess. The goddess knows I need you at your best. You take care now." He righted himself, and began to saunter away. "Boy, won't Epinora be pleased with herself. And here I insisted Circe was no layabout. I ain't never gonna hear the end of it."

Before he'd gotten another ten steps, he felt the cold shudder of air. Grinning to himself, he looked back at her. "What's that now, de-holy Zandar's buttocks!"

Circe had risen, propelled only by the rapid air currents whirling about her. Her eyes were blazing points of golden light, and her expression was well beyond frustration, and into fury. Above, the sky began to whirl and darken, and the sea itself started to resonate with her fury. "Well hey now, I didn't mean nothin' by it! Don't you go and do something you'll regret!"

He watched, transfixed, as she rose above the deck, as the gathering winds threshed the sails like so much grain. Behind him, the bell tolled violently, and the thumping sounds of feet hitting the deck, the crash of the quartercastle doors slamming open, jolted him back into reality. There was no talking his way out of this.

"Man those sails, ye damn misshapen little monsters! There's a storm brewin'!" He rushed to the helm to join Epinora, who was overwhelmed at the forces being levied against the ship. He took the rudder, and with a surge of primal heat, he commanded the ship to his will. As the keel titled, and the sails spun, the ship began to pick up the wind. In short order, she had its speed, and cut through the ever-heightening waves like it was the Dragon Days.

Nausicaa crashed forward, at speeds he'd never imagined even as a bright-eyed boy. Epinora was shouting things, to him, to the other swabs, but it made no difference. The ship was under command. It wasn't his, and it wasn't Circe's...it was both. Like a child grown, Nausicaa made him proud as she soared atop the raging storm.

Behind him, he heard shouts from the tiger. "20...! 25...! 30...!" And, shortly, the tearing sound of rope stretched beyond its limits, of moorings exploding with bestial force as Nausicaa left the chip log in her wake, impossible to gauge, impossible to measure. She flew like eagles ought to fly, like a dragon earning her wings. Like the goddess above the foredeck, she wasn't hindered by the storm--she thrived on it.

Time stood still. No, time didn't stand still, it got the fuck out of the way. There was only one storm, one ship, and one sea, as far as he cared. It wasn't until the ship had finally slowed to a reasonable speed, and the sun had broken through the black clouds to reveal the waterlogged deck that Calyx realized it was over.

Drifting down from between the masts, Circe looked better than ever. She wore a mad grin, and her eyes shone with pure ecstasy. She shouted a primal scream that became a riotous laugh, and landed on the deck, prone. "Ahhhh...that was just what I needed." She stood, with surprising alacrity, and approached Calyx with all the audacity he'd come to expect from her.

"Hey, you brazen little hussy, you could have killed us all!" Epinora threw her hat over Calyx's face to hide Circe's shame from his eyes. Undeterred, the storm witch leaned toward him and planted a kiss on his lips.

"I know," she said with a grin, and promptly bounded away.

He left the hat over his eyes for a few more moments, extending the moment as long as he dared. When it was pulled from his head by an angry Epinora, he saw the rest of the crew, encircling him and looking more than a bit cross. The angry tiger, the waterlogged scholar, the glaring marksman, the indefatigable monk, and one very agitated captain.

"Well?!" she demanded.

"Well what? Rum, that's what! Drink up, me hearties!"