Episode XXIII – On the Salt Road: 14th to 15th Halane, 720TR
Open sea... the salt road. By midday the strong tail wind has dragged dark clouds over the sky above the two ships. At the end of the fourth watch the winds are reaching gale force, and in the dark heart of the storm behind them lightning cracks and flashes. Ulfarr decides to run with the wind and try to outpace the worst of the weather. With the Sea Cow bobbing along behind, Ologi turns south south west, aligning their course with the whipping streamers of the silver weather vein. Over the howling wind Ulfarr yells instructions across to Eilif Rodestugg, chief pilot of the Sea Cow:
“Run with the wind, we must escape Njehu’s tempest – he’s in a foul mood this day. If we’re separated, head straight for Chelemby, we’ll look for you in the port. All hands on watch, I want everything on this ship lashed tight!”
Throughout the long dark evening the weather grows worse and worse. The Sea Cow’s storm lanterns disappear into the murk. The men beseech Thorim to make an offering to assuage Njehu’s anger. He casts a handful of the Witch Queens amber into the gnashing wind.
With the 'unnatural' weather causing much fear and desperate prayers the ship starts taking on water. With the sea around her churning with dead and dying fish, the companions dump most of Ologi’s ballast and cargo, and begin (amidst the howling gale) to discuss which of the thralls they like least as disaster strikes. The ship founders on a jagged reef, as the captain and several of the crew were hurled from her deck and into the sea.
As the first men choke awake in the wane morning light they find themselves cast up on a steep shingle beach. As Ologi flounders in the boiling surf Ulfarr takes stock of the situation. Four of the crew members remain missing and the ship carries a grievous breach in her hull. The weary companions drag Ologi high up the beach. Great jagged reefs arc around the bay they find themselves in, and thousands of gulls flock and dive from the flanking cliffs to gorge on the multitude of dead fish which litter the water.
Some scouting along the beach and into the high dunes reveals that they are on quite a substantial landmass. They soon find Thorim and one of the other lost sailors at one end of the beach. Big Hrafn and one of the boat thralls remain missing. As the sun begins to burn off the morning fog the scouts can see at least half a league inland, and also spot the shattered hull of a large dak further around the jagged coast, it appears to be the ship they saw floundering in the storm the previous night. It is noted by the astute companions that the wreck could provide both seasoned timbers to repair their heavily damaged ship, and the possibility of salvage/booty, but events intrude. Within moments the skies empty of seabirds and the horrified companions observe near a score of huge wing'd creatures gliding towards the wreck. It is the melderyni scholar Telen who, in fearful tone, identifies these monstrous beasts as Yelgri: harnic harpies. They fall on the wrecked dak and retrieve a couple of bodies over which they bicker and squabble as gruesomely dismembering them.
As the scouts hurry back to Ologi the yelgri spot them and a fearful chase ensues as the huntsman of the companions, the half-breed Vermunder, does dreadful slaughter on the fiends with his great bow. When the scouts reach the safety of the companion’s hastily assembled shield wall the yelgri swoop, hurling dung, body parts (from the dak) and shrieks. The well tested shield wall holds firm, and with shots from a couple of the bowmen to support them, the companions soon drive off the beasts with fire and steel.
With the yelgri are driven off the companions decide to send a small band of men on a scouting mission inland, to assess any possible threats and determine the extent of the landmass. The captain, Thorim, takes Vermunder the huntsman and his bedraggled wolfhound Falki, the four sailors Vermunder has trained as bowmen, and the melderyni scholar Telen, on what is expected to be a half day foray inland. The remaining twelve men are left working under Ulfarr the shipwright, to effect what repairs they can.
Leaving the shingle beach behind, the scouts push inland, and soon enter lightly wooded territory. There is little sign of game, but while crossing a marshy water course the keen eyed Vermunder spots a crumpled piece of white material, poorly 'concealed' in a muddy ditch. Further investigation reveals both tracks (medium sized but deep prints indicate a heavily built, or encumbered man, who weighs in excess of eighteen stone) and that the white material is (according to Telen the scholar) silk. The garment appears to be some kind of coif, or mantle, with a finely wrought gold mesh face cover. Intrigued, the scouts decide to push on further and track the owner of this odd clothing, who they suppose is a shipwreck victim like themselves and most likely a wealthy noble or merchant prince from some exotic and far off land.
Half a day later they find themselves entering a more heavily wooded area in a broad shallow vale. Ground mist still clings to boggy pockets of water amongst the patchy ferns and birch. A further piece of silk is discovered, this time more carefully 'hidden' in one of the small boggy puddles. It appears to be the bottom eighteen inches of a robe, roughly torn off. The captain and Vermunder attempt to tear this wondrous material themselves, only doing so with great difficulty, and making them wonder at the strength of the person they are 'rescuing'. A few minutes later, as the scouts push further up the vale, they hear a distant horn dirge, a different note than any horn possessed by their ship mates. The sudden silence that follows unnerves even the bold captain, and in an instant, angry bees shoot past him and strike both the wolfhound Falki, and the bowmen Skjold. The dog lets out a yelp of pain and the man crumples dead to the mossy ground, a crossbow quarrel of blackened steel buried deep in his gut.
The scouts break out into a skirmish line, as Vermunder desperately scans the ground ahead for the ambusher’s position. More shafts fly as the scouts go to ground and Snourri catches one in the hip, going down shrieking. Enraged, Thorim dashes towards a cluster of moss and ivy covered rocks ahead. Guided by Vermunder’s hastily loosed shafts he flanks the position, and erupts into the midst of two heavily built warriors, both no more than five feet tall, garbed in blackened mail from head to knee, and bearing long armed cross bows. A desperate melee ensues, with Thorim (Sarajin smiling upon him) stabbing one through the neck and, as Vermunder closes and grapples the other from behind, wrenching off the man’s helm and holding him at sword point. A brief and nasty interrogation ends with Thorim thrusting his sword through the 'murderer’s' mouth. He dies choking, his last words still ringing in the enraged captains ears:
"I know nothing of the treasure ship, you yellow haired sister f***er!"