7 Southern Ocean, Position Unknown
The tall masts and weathered deckboards creaked as the Nunghal ship swayed in gentle swells. The gray sailcloth sighed and strained as the easterly breeze pushed them along, forcing the helmsman to shift his tack to keep them angling northward. The waves of the open sea rocked the vessel from side to side, rolled it up and down.
Up and down.
Side to side.
Up and down.
Endlessly.
Amidships, gripping the rail with his powerful hands and bunching his arm muscles, Asaddan struggled not to be sick—again. He longed for solid ground that did not lurch and sway under his boots. In the month since their departure from the clan gathering, he had spent more time retching than sleeping.
With a good-natured chuckle, the wiry shipkhan of the vessel, Ruad, came up behind him; he wore no shirt beneath his sharkskin vest. “Cousin, you'll miss the scenery if you spend all your days heaving. We're in waters no man has ever seen.”
“The water looks the same to me.” Asaddan whistled his sibilants through the gap of his missing front tooth; he groaned as his stomach lurched again.
“That's the way I feel about your grassy plains.” Amused, Ruad spread his arms expansively. “It's not even a rough sea.”
“If it was a bad storm, I'd be distracted enough to keep my guts inside me.” Asaddan stared at the endless ripples of water, the shattered yellow reflection of the sun. He fought down another wave of nausea.
With uncharacteristic sympathy, Ruad lowered his voice. “It's just teasing, cousin—my little revenge for how your clans pestered me mercilessly for my clumsiness in riding horses, herding buffalo, and tracking game.” The shipkhan drew a deep breath of the salty air. “Ah, I am glad to be back on deck again, where I belong!”
As punishment for wrecking his ship in a storm, which had cost the lives of most of his crew, Ruad had spent a year exiled from the sea among the nomadic Nunghal-Ari. Now he was a joke among his fellow seafaring Nunghals, but he hoped to regain his clan's respect. “We'll go to those fantastic places on the other side of the Great Desert. If the oceans take us there.”
“They will… but it's the long way around,” Asaddan said. “You've looked at the maps. There can be no other answer.”
After being lost in the sandy wasteland beyond the Nunghal grazing lands, Asaddan had stumbled upon Uraba, a land no Nunghal had ever seen. He had met the soldan-shah, become a sensation at the Olabar court, and eventually convinced his new friends to lead an expedition across the Great Desert. Since that time, Asaddan had made three additional journeys by sand coracle to visit his friends in Uraba.
After hearing Sen Sherufa's theory that a well-provisioned ship could reach Uraba by way of the southern ocean, Asaddan had proposed a scheme. The captain was still considered a great embarrassment to his clan, but if they could complete such a spectacular journey and discover a new route, Ruad's name would be written in gold leaf in all the Nunghal logbooks.
So at the end of the recent clan gathering, Ruad, Asaddan, and a hardy volunteer crew set forth in search of a new route to Uraba. Unaccustomed to long sailing voyages, Asaddan began puking his guts out within the first day. He had never felt so pitiful, not even during his crossing of the Great Desert on foot. Determined to pull his weight as a crewman aboard the Nunghal ship, he had intended to scrub decks, haul nets, even scramble up a swaying cable ladder. Surrounded by the dizzying openness of the deep sea, he prayed to his gods that they would soon reach the distant Uraban city of Lahjar.
Now the wrenching knot in his stomach tightened, and he vomited over the rail. He coughed and spat the foul taste out of his mouth. Though Ruad tried to restrain himself, he couldn't help laughing.
As Asaddan watched the greenish-pink stain disperse, he noticed a metallic glimmer beneath the waves, a sheen of silver scales that went on and on, then disappeared again. His queasiness forgotten, he shouted, “Ruad, look there!”
Off to the port side of the ship, a large serpent rose from the sea. Water sheeted from its armored hide, and a beard of long spines and seaweed hung from its jaws and chin. Dark blue scalloped fins undulated along its fluidly bent neck.
Ruad did not look at all afraid. “Ha, there's something to keep you distracted, cousin! Silver and blue—never seen one like that before. Must be these northerly waters.”
The creature's hinged jaw dropped open, displaying long teeth that could rip a hole in the hide of the largest whale. The serpent emitted a mournful hoot, then a deeper roar; a plume of silvery steam blasted from its blowhole.
“Will it attack?”
“Depends on its mood.” Ruad whistled, and the men on deck rushed to their stations. “Load the port cannons!”
Wiry Nunghals pulled on ropes and opened a pair of gunports in the hull. Crewmen scrambled down the deck ladders and raced to take up positions behind two bronze cylinders that were loaded with firepowder, tamping material, and projectiles.
Asaddan backed away from the rail, wishing he had a longbow, spear, or harpoon. “Looks like it's going to charge.”
“That it does. Light torches and fire those cannons!”
The creature hurled itself forward with a speed that reminded Asaddan of a spotted plains viper slithering off of a hot rock.
The Nunghal crewmen touched their torches to the fuses, and two explosions rocked the ship, sending a shudder like thunder through the decks. One of the heavy balls missed the target, and a splashing plume of water appeared far behind the serpent. The other projectile struck home.
The silvery monster snapped in half like a felled tree, its neck severed just below its bearded jaw. With a series of splattering noises, shredded flesh and scales rained down on the water, some striking close to the ship. The serpent's lifeless head, mouth agape but no longer threatening, floated for a moment then capsized. Slowly, the rest of the silver-scaled creature rose to the surface.
Ruad placed his hands on his narrow hips and studied the chunks of meat floating around the hull. “Leave it for the sharks. I've never been fond of sea-monster meat.” Asaddan continued to stare, but the shipkhan clapped him on the back once more. “Shall we keep sailing northward? It can't be far now.”
Asaddan realized to his surprise that he no longer felt seasick.