They Come To Feed

Chapter 3

The Osprey drifted upon a temporarily calm sea. She had been underway to the pirate haven of Bartanis since before she was caught unawares by the corsair sea-raiders. Bartanis was the unofficial capital of the aptly named Pirate Isles off the coast of northern Ghand in the Athopos Ocean. The storm struck well before the pirate vessel was in sight of the Isles.
    The Osprey was a hybrid ship, built mostly along the lines of a ballinger and a xebec, capable of sailing under both oar and sail and refitted for piracy. She was a swift vessel, and she could fight. All in all, she was an excellent craft for raiding upon the great rivers and along the coastline. However, she was not a vessel designed for deep water sailing upon the high seas.
    Unfortunately, the storm had been a large one and it had blown the Osprey far from her intended course;  now she drifted well out into the Athopos. The Osprey was still shorthanded. She carried booty from several earlier raids, on both merchants and pirates alike, but her shipboard supplies were dwindling, and now she was also badly damaged by the storm. Worse yet, an even greater storm lurked on the southern horizon like the black hand of Hades.

    "I'll tell ye this if I've told ye a thousand times, 'tis bad luck to bring a woman aboard ship," hissed Pellus to Labos the Oparian. "First those damned corsairs, then that blasted storm that's got us lost at sea, and now the evilest storm I ever did set eyes upon loomin' o'er head." They did not hear Grimm's stealthy tread as he approached them from behind, with the cat-like footfalls of a born hunter.
    "I've a mind to throw the wench overboard, before she sends us sailing straight down to Hell itself," added Pellus.
    "Speak ill of the woman again and your shade will dine in Hell this night, Arcadian swine!" came Grimm's fierce growl from behind. The two seamen turned, and Pellus's hand sought the hilt of his poignard. Grimm's cutlass slid from its scabbard, but he felt a warm hand softly restrain his sword arm. It was Freyja, her own tread unnoticed even by Grimm's keen ears.
    Freyja stepped forward, her hazel eyes glaring into the eyes of Pellus like a serpent sizing up a rabbit.
    "Well, rat-face, do you wish to cross steel with me?" Freyja challenged. A look of fear crossed Pellus's pockmarked face, then his features contorted with anger. She looked at his poignard, drew her own dagger and sent her cutlass clattering to the deck.
    Just then, Tristero's booming voice came from the aft deck, "Yo ho you two! We have few enough hands aboard already. Sheath your blade Pellus, and thank me for saving your worthless hide, before Lieutenant Freyja sheathes her dagger in you, you dunghill rat."
    A black look crossed Pellus's ugly visage, and he slunk away muttering. Labos looked relieved, he did not care much for the Arcadian, and had grown weary of his incessant conspiratorial whisperings. Labos gave Grimm and Freyja a plaintive look and excused himself as Tristero came striding up.
    "I take it that's been brewing for a while. Arcadian sailors are a superstitious lot, but we Eberoseans do not share in such folly," said Tristero, adding, "I'll throw that blasted fool to the sharks myself, if he's not careful."
    With that, Tristero asked the two Thuleans to meet him in his quarters within the hour, and walked off to attend to his duties.
    "Thank you, Grimm," Freyja said in dulcet tones, and pressed her lips to his in a brief but fierce kiss.

   "The storm will be upon us soon," Tristero assessed, "we cannot hope to reach either the mainland nor the port of Bartanis, before it overtakes us. There is damned little chance the Osprey can weather this storm, but I see no other choice but to try." The five officers sat around the little table again, pressed close in the cramped quarters. "It will take a fortnight to make the Osprey seaworthy again," Tristero added glumly.
    "I spotted a cluster of several islands just this morning a bit northeast of our current position. They were mostly rocky cliffs straight to the ocean, but the largest one looked to have a small natural harbor and forests," mentioned Grimm, adding "Can we not ride out the storm there, and seek for supplies in the forest?"
    "Those islands are called the Devil's Teeth by sailors, a place of ill luck. I'd almost rather take my chances with the storm," remarked Cartenio. Marula, who had been sitting quietly, nodded emphatically in agreement. Rumour counted for much amongst sailing men. Freyja merely listened.
    "Bah! Sailors' superstition," roared the captain. "Set sail for the Devil's Teeth, hearties." And with that, the captain bid them go to their duties.