User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 100

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4th Era 171, 7th of Second Seed, Abecean Sea
A voice rang out, incredulous, like the speaker didn't understand why they were seeing him, of all people.

"You?" the person asked, boots ringing on the boards of the deck as they came closer.

He spun to face the speaker, trying to be ready for whatever might happen as the boots halted. Through his haze of fear, he managed to muster himself enough that he took a good look at the man who'd spoken. The Altmer wore middling-priced red and orange clothes and a Redguard-style blue turban over his head. His short, blond beard had a three inch long braid on each side of his mouth, and they were clamped on the ends with small, gold clasps. A very sharp looking scimitar hung from a scabbard on the man's belt. To his fresh horror, there was a small splash of blood on the front of the man's left boot, near the sole. The man in question turned his attention to the Maormer still behind him.

"This is the one?" he asked, as if to comfirm something.

He knew he was going to die today. The only question was when.

The Maormer answered. "Yes."

The man's attention turned back to him. He tried his best to not show his fear, though that was getting harder and harder. He thought he saw familiarity in the man's eyes, though at this moment they were narrowing, starting to show the first signs of suspicion.

Akadil's heart sped up. Perhaps he could beg for his life, he thought timidly. It never worked in the horror books he'd heard about or the same genre plays he'd gone to (it was the only thing playing at the theatre at the time), but there was nothing for not trying. However...there was something not right here. But...but...what was it?

"You don't remember me, do you?" the man asked, staring at him.

"Uh..." he began, well aware of the fear-induced tremble in his voice. Then, suddenly, that little voice in the back of his mind reemerged again, saying once more that his fear was uncalled for. "You know him," the little voice said, calmly, through his inner maelstrom of terror. "Try to remember. You know him." He cleared his throat as the man in question cocked an eyebrow. "I..." he cleared his throat again. "I, uh, I seem to a little, but...could you drop a hint or two?" he managed, trying to speak as calmy as possible. "I need something to jog my memory."

The man had a "very well" look on his face. "I am Captain Kael, and this is my ship, the Seagull's Catch. You were a passenger aboard my vessel going on 60 years ago." He cocked an eyebrow again. "That should be more than enough to jog that memory, and wipe that fear off your face. It is uncalled for."

So, he had failed in keeping his face mostly straight. Then the other words hit him. Indignation swelled in his heart. The nerve! Telling him what he should feel! He blurted it out, before he could stop himself.

"How could you?! How dare you! The nerve! Trying to tell me what I should or shouldn't feel! That is my own right, not yours!"

To his surprise, a grim smile curved the man's lips. He looked over his shoulder to where the Maormer still stood, completely silent. "Was he this much trouble for you?" he asked him, the same grim humor in his voice.

"Worse," came the Sea Elf's reply, shot through with sarcastic humor. "He tried to run away. Let's get out of here before he gets any bright ideas to jump overboard."

He'd already thought of that, but it would be better if he didn't let them become aware of it.

"Indeed," the Captain agreed, nodding once. The same smile was still on his mouth. "We have who we came for." He raised his voice to the assembled crew: "Stations, everyone! Anchor up! We're leaving this place!"

As the crew scrambled around, he looked back at the Sea Elf, who still had not moved. "When the anchor's up and the ship's ready, you'll take us elsewhere?"

"Yes."

As Akadil stood there with the crew rushing around him, he tried to remember the man who called himself Captain. Captain Kael...that had a certain...ring...to it. If he truly had been a passenger aboard this ship in the past - which was maybe why it seemed so familiar - he likely would have had it in his papers on the mainland, but those were inacessible now. They, in all likelyhood, were scattered around the entire city, if they were not burned or crushed, first. No, he couldn't rely on them.

Just as he was wracking his rusty memory, the "Captain" gave a shout: "All's ready!"

He felt more than saw - he was still behind him, for the moment - the Maormer nod before moving from behind him to stand in the exact middle of the boat, near the main mast. He then reached out on both sides, arms out wide, and clutched at the air. It looked like the same thing he'd done when he lifted him up in his basement, only with both arms now. The man's head dropped back on his shoulders and he began to glow, growing brighter and brighter until the light extended to the boat, as well. To his amazement, the crew and Captain also began to emit the same glow in that moment, and a glance down revealed that he was glowing, too. Before he could be blinded by the intense, white glow, there was an even more brilliant flash, and then all was darkness.