The Darkwater Sea

            

                                      Prologue

         On the third day at sea, the wind priest from the south countries went over the side and disappeared into the cold waters. Later, the sailors who witnessed it would swear that there was something strange about the way he leaned over the rail and then so easily toppled forward and out of sight. It was if he had wanted to go.      

         The priest had been a young man brought on board at the Port of Rains to fill the sails with wind once the Wolfbride had gone beyond the sutra driven currents of the ocean that men called, the Trade Routes.

         To the far south of the world, the acolyte priests of Air and Water sat in mandala style groups beneath the open sky of their massive Temple Takidakana, and layered harmonies that encouraged the oceans of the Empire to flow in such ways that all of the five kingdoms were joined together for the sake of rule and commerce. These sutras had been chanted uninterrupted for hundreds upon thousands of seasons.

         It was fairly common for priests or priestesses to break away from their Orders to look for work and lives. Those who did were not looked down upon, there were far too many for that, nor were they given special position in society because again, there were far too many. 
         The ones who struck out on their own were usually not the best or most powerful of their calling, but they did not have to be to find work that paid.

         Air priests in particular did fairly well aboard ships like the Wolfbride, their only responsibility being to fill the sails when the crew found themselves in patches of weak weather. 
         It is said that a ship is only as fast as its priest.
         And it is also said that a ship can only ever be as strong as its captain.

         

                                        I

         The captain of the Wolfbride was a tall, thin bear of a man with a great brown beard and a mane of thick hair; still strong for all of his sixty and four sets. He stood at the spot where the Air priest had fallen over, and gripped the rails to lean out to peer into the waters. The captain winced.

         Not because the priest had vanished, but because in the end this would only serve to delay them.

         Stupid and careless boy, he thought.

         He was not necessarily a hard or cruel man, simply stern and practical, and he knew this about himself. Captain Run-tan Osaka had built his character on these two principles.

         Captain Osaka looked across the face of the ocean, bound on all sides by a vast and empty sky which pressed heavily upon it. To him, both sky and sea seemed engaged in some silent conversation that they did not wish for him to hear. 
          He knew that once they made port, he would need to file a report about losing the priest. Who would mourn him, he thought, does he have parents who will weep for him? Without realizing it, his mind wandered to his own parents and his thoughts immediately soured. 

          The drunkard and the whore.

          In the small waves on the surface of the sea, he could almost see them again.  Could see his father giving him a beating while his mother watched impassively, lost in whatever cheap narcotics she happened to be on. 
        Run-tan must have been around seven then.   It was also about that time that he came to the realization that if he was ever going to have anything out of this life, he would need to get it for himself. Not long after, he had run off, working for scraps of food and odd places to sleep.

         This is how he came to be a wharf rat. Finding himself employed and beneath the roof of a shipwright and his wife until he was old enough to be taken on as an apprentice sailor by the powerful Trades Guild from the northern Rain Kingdom called, the Company.

         The Company became his father and the sea his new mother. He devoted his life to them. His logical and systematic approach to all things was encouraged and his natural will made him strong, propelling him through one promotion after the other.

         The minimum age for a Captain is forty and six sets of seasons, and on the very day he reached his forty and six, he was honored with rank and this vessel to command, the Wolfbride.

         Some ten sets before rising to Captain, Run-tan had surprised himself and everyone around him by falling in love with a pretty young woman named, Katsuko. She loved him in return with a quiet devotion and never protested whenever he received summons to take to sea. Shortly thereafter, she gave him two sons; each born a set of seasons apart, and before he knew it, they had grown into men.

         They loved their father and respected him, but they knew him as well. They understood that their father had another family - the Wolfbride and her crew.

         The Wolfbride may not have been a famous or exceptional vessel, but she was sturdy, and Run-tan had the reputation for delivering freight safely and on time. The crew themselves were damn good at sailing, he would tell you, and the only thing they did better was drinking.

         They may have come from different walks of life, but they were Company men, and their paths had led them to the Wolfbride.  Some of them, his first mate for example, had served under him from the beginning. 

         Everyone except for this priest; a solemn young man of nineteen or so, dressed plainly and in the manner of no kingdom, younger even than his own two sons.

         This was his first voyage and he rarely spoke to anyone except the captain, and this, the crew approved of. A quiet natured priest was rare, for they usually came with a list of demands and an overwhelming sense of self-importance. This young man however, seemed to be nursing some private pain; but then, the captain thought, who at sea wasn't.    

          That night, while the men were below decks, playing at tiles and doing the only thing they did better than sailing; Captain Run-tan Osaka and his first mate, Yon-no-Akana, were in his cabin going over maps. 
         “This is going to put us back by a good week and a half if we are fortunate,” the captain murmured.

         “What are the chances of a Rain or Stone Kingdom patrol finding us?” his first mate asked.

         “Rhetorically or actually?”

         “Actually.”

         “Slim in this late of autumn. Most of the shipping on this route will be over until spring.” he looked up at him, “What says your mind?”

         Yon sat down on a zabutan at the low table. “We could give them a message to drop at one of the Ports, letting the Company know that we have not decided to run off with their freight. They could tell your families that we are not lost as well.”

         “Not a poor idea. Still, they will know something has happened beyond our fate and surely not blame it on a sudden sense to thieve.” 
         The captain stood to stretch, then walked to a window.

         “It still bothers me about this monk, Yon. Could he not summon a wind to save himself? And why didn’t anyone see him in the water afterwards?”

         Yon took a drink of hot wine and thought a moment, “I am not sure, Captain. Something tells me that he was ready to die.”

         “Hmph. He could have had the courtesy to wait until we landed and not to curse us with this nonsense,” Run-tan replied.

         “As long as we stay on this current and ration our stores, we should be fine,” Yon replied.

        The orange light of a cold sunset spilled through the window and onto the cabin floor. Run-tan turned his head and smiled roughly through his dark beard.       

         “Hai,” he said, “The sun ends in red; and tomorrow, my friend, we will fill our own damned sails.”

        The next morning, they woke to a flat ocean and a sky the color of fire. Run-tan paced the decks yelling orders to take down sails and to lash into place anything that could move.

         Blood twilight, blood for morn; he thought, the wind has fled and a storm is born.
         He grimaced.

         “It is as if a phoenix rises in the east,” Yon remarked as he walked beside the captain along the upper deck. Both men were dressed in sealskin over robes, cut in the style of Rain Mariners.

         Run-tan gave the smaller man a withering look and gestured to the sunrise, “Hells keep your phoenix, Yon-no-Akana. It is the clouds come in attendance that concerns me. Fifty and two sets of seasons I’ve been on the water and I have never seen anything like it. Without a wind to take us out, we will be eaten alive.”

         “Perhaps we will give it indigestion,”  Yon smiled.

         Run-tan looked at him and grimaced once more.

         The men knew what lay ahead for them. Run-tan could see it written in the way they moved. They finished their strapping and bolting, and gathered onto the main deck where he addressed them.

         “I have known all of you men and looked after you for many sets. I will continue to, have no doubt.

         The Wolfbride is made of ironwood, culled from the forest that bears its name. No storm will destroy her, not even the dark armed bitch headed towards us. Tie yourself to the rings and ride it out – that is the best we may do.

         ‘Remember your honor and remember your training.’

         These are the Company’s words and they are our words.”

         He could see looks of sympathy and admiration cross their faces and he said loudly, “Do not feel sorry for me! This is my honor as well. If I cannot survive some storm while being strapped into my own cabin, I do not deserve the right to command this ship. 
         If for some reason I am defeated, Yon-no-Akana-san will become your captain. I trust you to see him and the Wolfbride safely to the Stone Port. Be sure to prioritize the delivery of my cloak to my wife or else you will have my shade to contend with.

        You may call on your gods if you wish, but I think we may be beyond their reach.

         And no matter what may come to pass - remember your honor, remember your training.”

         The men on the main deck brought their hands together in temple fashion, raised them to their foreheads and in unison said, “Gassho”.

         He returned their salute, and as if by some unseen cue, cold feathers of wind began to tug at them; and all at once, Run-tan felt very old and very tired.

         “Below decks!” he roared, and the men moved toward the hatches.

         He turned to his first mate and said, “Watch over them, Yon.”

         In the custom of the Rain Kingdom, Yon curled his right fist, placed it over his heart, and bowed. “And will it be the gods who watch over you, my captain?”

         Rain began to fall on them.

        “Not likely,” Run-tan replied. He gave his first mate a coarse smile and returned the salute. Run-tan strode to his cabin on the top deck, slammed the door behind him and turned the caster to seal it.

         Though the Wolfbride would never float in a beauty parade, she was incredibly well built. All of the ships in the Company’s fleet were modified or created to make sure that everything could be battened down, locked up, or covered quickly in case of bad weather. Even the tall glass windows were crafted from steelsand and designed to withstand terrific forces.

         He looked out to the ocean that was so still they might as well have been grounded. The sky to the east was a wall of black clouds, tumbling and unfolding on itself. Sheet lightning ripped through the surface at intervals and Run-tan watched with a hard face as it rushed silently towards them.

         Hurricane. 

         Storms were not uncommon beyond the Trade Routes and prevented most people from sailing beyond them, and certainly not without an Air priest. Some in the Empire even contested that manipulating winds and water on a world scale created worse weather for those who lived outside the Emperor’s realm and that the practice should be stopped.

        Run-tan did not have an opinion on it, except to say that he was grateful for swift voyages that took him from one port to the next and then safely home with money in his purse.

         Taking off his sealskin, he walked across the room to a chest bolted to the floor. He knelt before it and removed a harness. He also removed a bottle of pale amber and pulled its plug to take a long draw as the first big wave collided with the Wolfbride.  Run-tan took out a painted portrait of his family to look at and began singing a wordless song he had made up for his boys when they were little.   

         Carefully, he folded his sealskin and put it into the chest, then commenced putting on the harness with its many straps and clasps. 

         He had another pull from the bottle, wrapped it with a piece of cloth, and placed it back into the chest. He held the picture up before him and smiled. He was tempted to put it in his robe, but he knew that if there was anything loose in the cabin, it could fly about and possibly kill him.
         He returned it to its spot.

         Once the chest was locked, Run-tan sat with his back to the rear of the cabin and connected the clasps of his harness to the rings mounted on the wall and floor. The floor-to-ceiling windows before him were designed so the person in this position could see the ocean in front of him and to both sides.

         He saw very well that the sea and the sky had come together to create a boiling darkness the color of charcoal and smoke. It excited and terrified him. 

         A giant wave lifted the Wolfbride and dropped her down in one smooth, sickening motion.

         He had weathered two hurricanes in his time, both while voyaging the warm oceans of the south, but never a cold-water hurricane. He had heard that on the other side of the world, people used storms like these to wage battles against each other, but it was never a thing he thought about or cared to believe.

         Another wave slammed into the ship. His thoughts went to the crew below and he knew that they must be strapped down by now and that most of them were already in deep meditation as they were trained to do.

         He assumed lotus position and after taking one long full look at the hurricane racing towards them, Captain Run-tan Osaka closed his eyes and thought of his wife.

         “Katsuko,” he whispered. 


                                       II

            “Captain Osaka. It is time to wake up,” a voice said.

         Run-tan came out of his meditation slowly, his mind a feather falling to the earth from a high place. His joints were stiff and he was hungry, but his thoughts came back sharp and present. A man he had never seen before stood in the cabin looking out of a window with his arms folded behind his back. He wore a simple tunic of tan, belted in the middle, and orange trousers cuffed at the knee.

         “Who are you and what are you doing on board my ship?” Run-tan asked brusquely, unclasping the harness from the wall and rising to his feet.

         The man smoothly turned on his heels and smiled. He had wavy, white hair and a full goatee.

         “I am called Ojiisan, and I am here to return a favor.”

         “What favor is that?” Run-tan asked. He stopped short and looked out of the windows. The hurricane was all around them and spinning furiously, though the ship only lazily rocked side to side.      
         They were in its center.

         “You saved my life once, good captain,” the old man said, returning to gaze out of the window.

         “I do not remember having ever laid eyes on you, let alone saving your life. What dark wonder is this?” Run-tan said.

         “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have, but that is to be expected. This hurricane however, it is as you say, a dark wonder. It is called the Northern Eye and it is a thing escaped. Even now, the Witches of the Green Isles are attempting to call it back.”

         “The Wolfbride can outlast any storm, sama. She will not capsize,” the captain said, keeping his distance.

         “Well made, these Company ships are. But right now, at this very moment, there are things in the water chewing through its hull. You see, the great Northern Eye is also a prison.”

         Run-tan moved to the window and pressed his hands against it. Dark shapes flapped against the port side as the ship gently swayed back and forth with their movement.

         The old man continued, “You are taking on water, however that is only part of your problem.”

         “My crew is down there!” the captain started.

         “Quiet now, lest they take an interest in you and I. Your men are fine for the time being. I am going to open a way through the storm and pull the ship through, but you will have to navigate a straight course, do you understand?”

         “I cannot go out there with whatever those are!” he protested.

         “They are called the Nightwolves, and yes, you will. Your steerage helm with the wheel, it is constructed of grainwood I take it?” the old man asked.

         “Hai, in case of lightning strikes,” Run-tan replied.

         “Most excellent. When you see me at the prow, make for your steerage as fast as you may. I will distract them long enough for us to safely exit the Eye.”

         “I do not know which of the gods you are, but I thank you, sama,” Run-tan said and bowed.

         “I am no god, Captain Osaka, just a fellow traveller. There is something you must do however,” the old man said.

         “Anything,” the captain nodded.

         “Very good. You must choose between the cloak of your ship and the cloak of your family. You will need to think carefully on this,” the old man said gravely.

         Run-tan seemed perplexed, “I do not take your meaning, sama.”

         “That is all right,” he said, “I simply ask that you do not forget. Oh, and one more thing. For both of our sakes, do not forget to look below before you leave. I may say no more.

         Now we must go, Captain.”

         Run-tan ran to the cabin door and spun the caster. He stood to the side for his visitor to leave, but when he turned back, his visitor was gone.

         He stepped out and looked to the prow to see the strange old man in lotus position and hovering just above it. A pale gold nimbus of light radiated from him.

         Run-tan ran for the large wheel set above the cabin. Hail littered the decks and in his haste, he slipped and fell on his back. He jumped up and felt pain shoot from his elbow through his wrist. As soon as he laid his hands on the cold handles of the steerage, a crack of lightning split the air and struck the main mast of the Wolfbride.

         The ship beneath his feet thrummed with life and the Wolfbride lurched forward. The skin of his body tingled from the energy in the air, and he saw thin, blue veins of raw electricity arcing everywhere but where he stood. The below decks were lined with grainwood for just the same reasons, and Captain Osaka thought of his crew in their meditations and could only hope that they would be all right.

         The beasts clinging to the sides cried out and fell into the waters. From his vantage, he could see that there were many more than he had thought. They were grotesque, with bodies like large muscular dogs, sleek and black. Their misshapen heads sat on short necks and they wore the faces of men with glassy black eyes set above wide mouths of teeth such as those of sharks.

         From the backs of the Nightwolves, sprouted leathery wings that folded around themselves in the manner of bats as they plunged and fell into the waters.

         The lightning subsided and the captain maintained course as the Wolfbride plowed forward at speeds she had never known. Run-tan was accustomed to the movement of being propelled by current and wind, but never this new force of being pulled, as if some mammoth vacuum were being generated directly in front of the ship.

         The inner wall of the hurricane loomed before them and Run-tan knew that once they hit it, he would be torn from the ship and cast into the ocean.

          He grit his teeth and hunched over the wheel. High-pitched screams cut through the roar of the great Northern Eye and he whipped his head back to see the shapes of Nightwolves taking to the air and beating after them. The faster the ship moved, the faster the Nightwolves flew, and he could see them closing the gap. He looked ahead and saw the old man at the prow glowing brighter, and somehow serene.

        The captain white-knuckled the steerage and prepared for his final seconds of life as they approached the spinning hulk of wind and black water.

         I apologize, Katsuko; he thought, I would have chosen you.

         Just as the Wolfbride made contact, the wall parted as smoothly as a silk curtain, opening a way before them. Run-tan twisted around as the Nightwolves caught up to them. Almost instantly, the way behind the ship closed, sending the stream of Nightwolves up and into the clutches of the Eye.

         The Wolfbride became enveloped in a large pocket of air, moving swiftly and lit by the old man’s aura. There were shapes in the hurricane around them, ghastly spirits who saw them and clawed against the surface of their escape. Pieces of ships and cities and people long dead, careened past. Though terrible to look at, Captain Run-tan could not help but watch in a sort of hellish fascination.

         Time seemed not to exist in this part of the Eye, and at certain points, Run-tan felt himself on the verge of going mad by the things that he saw. He could not tell if the scenes playing out around them were real or in his mind alone. Finally, a space before them began to lighten and he could see faint distortions of sun and the smear of dark blue waters.

         He held Wolfbride’s course, and as they exited the storm, the old man eclipsed the sun and disappeared. Run-tan looked behind him and could see that the sky to the east was a stormy disaster many leagues in the distance and retreating farther with every passing moment.

                                              

                                      III

         Yon–no-Akana was not a fool, even if he sometimes appeared to be. Something was terribly wrong with Captain Osaka, and for Yon, it was both frustrating and heartbreaking that the captain should not confide in him what had come to pass.

         All people of the five kingdoms knew some style of meditation, and of these there are countless forms. Company sailors in particular were trained in styles that would allow them to fall asleep as drunk as lords and wake a few hours later, refreshed and clear. Another form could align their equilibrium for smooth transitions from sea to land and back again. And yet another would let them become light enough to hop wind currents for short distances so that they practically flew through the rigging.

         These are just a few, yet perhaps the most important is the form of the silent, which allows them to shut their bodies down for up to eight days without food or water and with the ability to withstand massive turbulence until roused by their captain. If their captain should not come, their bodies would wake naturally and of their own accord.

         In the case of the Wolfbride passing through a hurricane while crossing the ocean from the Port of Rains to the Stone Port, it was on the afternoon of the seventh day that Yon was roused by his captain.

         Once he saw his old friend he knew something terrible had happened. Run-tan’s hair, all of it, had turned completely white. He had become haggard and wild looking. There was also a sort of spiritual gauntness about him, as if the taller man’s awareness had been stretched too thin over some large and difficult experience.

         Whatever had happened, the captain was now withdrawn except to give commands. The men had been ordered to repair great rends in the hull that the captain explained as the ship scraping against a hidden reef.

         The men had seen reef tearing before, yet reefs did not rip apart ironwood vessels, nor did ocean reefs come calling with tooth and claw.

         They repaired it as best they could with ill-cut grainwood and tar, but true repair required the arts of a Fire priest and of those, the Wolfbride was in short supply. Now, on top of their regular duties, the sailors took turns forming a pass line to bucket seawater from below decks, up and over the railing.

         To add to all of this, first mate Yon knew that they were lost somewhere beyond the Ocean of the Sun, and most likely on the tides of the Darkwater Sea.

         The position of the stars told him that they were forty and one days off course, yet this did not make sense as it had only been two days since the wind priest had disappeared.

         Run-tan had lied to his men, and though they accepted his words while in his presence, not a one of them believed him. Some had come to fear him. They told each other that the storm had stolen their captain and left a different man in his place. Yon scolded them for their superstition, but secretly, he too had begun to doubt.

         For two days after the storm, the fragile winds carried them north and west on the bluish-black waters. The third day after, what wind there was had abandoned them and they were set to drift.

         That night, beneath the stars, the crewmen of the Wolfbride made a decision. They chose not to fear. Instead, they gathered on the main deck and sat in a circle linked by open palms.

         Akiko the Whale, as he was called, the wide bodied man who claimed to have been born on the open waters; led the crew in chanting sutras to the ocean itself, asking for protection and guidance. Yon watched but did not participate.

         He believed in gods and the variety of far folk who dwelled in distant lands that were not men, but behaved like them; yet he prided himself on choosing logic over superstition. And if, he told himself, he were to call on the spirit of the ocean, the spirit of the Darkwater was not one he would have chosen. Although truth be told, none of them could be quite sure where they were, for the knowledge of what lay beyond the realms of the Empire and the boundaries of civilized men was murky at best.

        Yon stood on deck watching them when the light of a lamp shone through the furthest hatch in the rear of the ship. The captain clamored out and extinguished the light, muttering to himself and walking to his cabin with its tall windows.

         The first mate became curious and followed him. He gave a brief knock to the door and walked in. Yon found the captain in a dark blue formal cloak that he had donned and not removed since the storm; a gift from the captain’s wife, if he remembered correctly. The cabin was in complete disarray, which was very unlike the captain he knew, who demanded that all things be in order and at all times.

         Yon walked over to him and grabbed his arm.

         “Run-tan, my captain,” he pleaded, “what are you looking for?”

         The captain stared into his eyes for a moment with his mouth hanging open and said at last, “He told me to look below.”

         This triggered an alarm in Yon and did his best to conceal it.     

         “Who told you, Captain?” he asked.

         “The old man, Ojiisan. He told me to look below before I left, but I have been down there over and over, and I see nothing different,” he whispered.

         “Captain, Ojiisan is a faerie story, an Immortal from children’s tales,” Yon told him. Then he asked gently, “What did you see during the storm, sama?”

         The captain collapsed to his knees and began to fight back sobs. In all the time they had known each other; Yon had never seen his captain, this man he admired, behave in such a way.

         “There were hounds in the water. They had the faces of men.. with teeth. The winds were full of spirits of the dead. I did not know what to believe, Yon. I thought that all of you had most likely perished. I was sure that I was going to die, but the old man said he was saving my life.”

         Yon put an arm around his friend and led him to his sleeping mat. After a while, Run-tan seemed to sleep, and Yon rose and cleaned the cabin then descended the decks to his own quarters.

         He lay there in the dark, unable to sleep and listening to the sounds of the Wolfbride – thinking. 

         The next day land was spotted.

         The call was shouted from the top of the mast and the men went wild with excitement. The ocean had heard them after all.

         They said it was the big continent, the northern coast that the Rain Kingdom was situated on; only hundreds, perhaps thousands of leagues west. If they could confirm the shore, they need only to follow the coastline east until they found their way home. They would be able to find small ports along the way to buy food from or perhaps row ashore to hunt. As they moved closer, a tight breeze had caught up to them and guided the Wolfbride to shore.

         They saw a dense forest, and through a lens-hollow, Yon made out thin columns of smoke further inland.

         Perhaps it was a city with people.

         In his gut, Yon did not like it, and the captain said nothing at all, choosing instead to remain inside his cabin.

         The first mate had taken over the duties of captain; and the men, out of respect, did as they were ordered and did not question his command.

         Hopefully, they would go ashore and find a local Fire priest to come back with them to stitch-weld the wounds of the Wolfbride.

         Around mid-afternoon, they approached as close as they could and made anchor. A long oar boat was dropped into the water and of the twenty and seven men on board, fourteen rowed to shore - one to remain with the oar boat, two to scout, five to hunt, and six to form the envoy that would call upon the locals for assistance.

         It fell on the first mate to lead the envoy as it was the duty of the captain to remain with the ship at all possible costs. However, Yon decided to stay on board even though he was not officially captain, and sent the Whale in his stead.

         And they waited.

         At dusk, Yon went to the lookout at the top of the mast and scanned the shore. He could hear drums coming from the forest and when he looked for Bana, the wiry man charged with staying by the oar boat, he was nowhere to be seen.

         It was well past midnight and none of the crew on board could sleep. The incessant rhythm of drums still beat from the forest. From the coastline they heard shouts, and the men raced to the rail to see.

         Through the dark, two men could be seen shoving the oar boat into the water and leaping in after it. They began to row desperately, and the forest seemed to quiver as the shapes of people poured out and onto the stony beach. They were moaning and shouting in a tongue that Yon did not recognize.

         The crewmen threw over the four lines with hooks for the rowers to attach to the oar boat, and they began to haul with effort and the aid of pulleys.

         The two men scrambled out and fell onto the deck, stinking of rot and smoke. It was the Whale, Akika; and Teru, the Knot-binder.

         Akika flopped to the deck and began shuddering as if he were freezing. Teru ran for the anchor wench and started to shout at them, “Go! Now! We must raise anchor! Help me!”

         The men left Akika with Yon and hastened to haul the anchor with Teru, who was gibbering and shaking at them. Yon went to the rail and peered through his lens-hollow. The figures on shore seemed to mill about and continued to shout in strange and furious voices.

         There was no mistaking that Akika and Teru had escaped, but from what, he thought.

         Yon went to the Whale and knelt beside him. He was burning with fever and sweating as if it were the height of summer. He grabbed the front of Yon’s robe and said frantically, “She has snakes where her arms should be! Their master has the head of a spider! He drank them! They watched and he drank them!”

         Akika began to froth from his mouth and his legs thrashed as if he wished to run, then his body ratcheted with seizure and stiffened. Slowly, he released Yon’s robe and fell to the deck.

         “We have only traded one hell for another,” the captain said.

         Yon looked up to see Run-tan standing in his doorway. The captain nodded sadly to his first mate and then turned and went back into the cabin, shutting the door behind him.

         “Wrap Akika and take him below. And get Teru to his mat,” Yon commanded the crew.

         A cold wind blew to the north and they adjusted the sails to catch it. Yon-no-Akana wearily made his way to the helm and took the wheel. He followed the coastline north, maintaining a good distance from the shore. He looked to the small platform directly in front of him where the Air priest should be seated, chanting sutras and pushing their sails with a powerful and constant wind, taking them wherever they should need to go.

         “Bastard.” he said.

         Yon-no-Akana had fallen asleep at the wheel and was roughly being awakened by one of his crew.

         “Yon! Come to!” it was Aitarou the Sail Rigger.

         The sun was a pale disc high above them and a chill breeze stole across the deck.

         The first mate shook his head to clear it and Aitarou helped him to his feet.

         “What is happening?” he asked the sail rigger.

         Aitarou led him to the top rail and pointed to the anchor chain stretching into the black water. A pale tentacle as thick as a man’s arm was carefully creeping its way up along the chain like a vine.

         “We dropped anchor to rest,” Aitarou explained, “then that thing started to climb up. What should we do?” 

         “Gather torches, quickly!” he turned to the rest of the remaining crew, “Bring up the anchor!”

         They lit the torches and worked the wench, which strained from the thing grasping it. Once the creature’s tendril was within reach, Yon drove a burning torch into it; searing the flesh, which was as white as that of a corpse.

         The tentacle released the anchor chain and giant bubbles of air rushed to the surface, causing the air to sour.

         Yon gagged and shouted to the men, “Faster!”

         The anchor came up smoothly now and the ship rocked with the movement of the unseen beast below. The winds or gods or whatever were with them and the sails filled with a cold gust and pushed them north. Yon was exhausted, yet he sprinted to the steerage and grasped the wheel.

         He refused to look back at the Wolfbride’s wake. If that thing caught up to them, they would perish, he told himself; and if he should glance back and see whatever it might be, he may very well lose his mind. He rubbed a hand across his grizzled jaw and focused on the sea ahead.

         Later, they inspected the ship and Yon felt more hopeless than ever. They were taking on water and by this time the following day, the Wolfbride would list and be unable to continue. 
         Eventually, she would sink.

         To add to the nightmare, the body of Akika had become a liquefied mess, as if some acid had eaten his form away; and in the past hour, the Knot-binder, Teru, had succumbed to fever and died.

         All the while, Captain Osaka stayed locked in his cabin and refused to acknowledge their pounding on the door and windows. He sat wrapped in his cloak with his back to them, staring at a portrait of his family.

        The men were terrified and so was first mate Yon, but he refused to show it. He knew from training that if they had any chance of surviving, it would be because he had stayed in control.

         They sailed all that day and into the night.

         The sky was black and without stars. He did not know where they were sailing and only followed the wind. He meditated briefly to give strength to his body, but his mind begged for sleep. It was then that a long beam of light cut through the darkness and disappeared, only to return a few seconds later.

         It came again.

         “Lighthouse!” someone shouted.

         Yon did not trust it - could not trust it. But right now, he thought, he could barely bring himself to trust anything. He needed to make a decision.

         All lighthouses followed a code of safe harbor.

         A lighthouse was bound to feed, clothe, and shelter any ship and crew that came to call, even if they were enemies in time of war.

         Perhaps it was all a trick. He couldn’t be sure. The men came to him and asked what he commanded. He looked at them carefully and thought to himself that they either took their chances at the lighthouse or they died at sea.

         Finally, he said to them, “Make for the Lighthouse and chant for your gods.”

         They quietly guided the Wolfbride to a dock that stretched itself from the rocky base of the structure. It looked uncared for, but it would do.

         The captain came out of his cabin and approached Yon, carrying his Company cloak of slate grey, which marked the one who wore it as Captain. He himself still wore his formal dark blue.

         “I have failed you, my friend, and I cry your forgiveness,” Run-tan told him, “You are Captain of the Wolfbride now. It would seem I have been defeated after all.”

         Yon felt sadness well inside of him as he accepted the cloak and bowed. “I am honored, but mind you that this is temporary. All will be set right, you will see.”

         “Hai, perhaps it will,” Run-tan replied, “I will stay with the ship. The men need you now and if we can find our way to tomorrow, we will make our plans then.”

         He grasped Yon’s arm and looked into his eyes for a moment then turned and strode towards his cabin, locking it after him.

         Aitarou ran at the gap between them and the dock and safely landed on the other side, where the men threw him the moorage to tie off to a battered post. Captain Yon-no-Akana slung the cloak around his shoulders as they laid out the ramp, and then he led the men onto the dock and towards the lighthouse.

         They hammered against the great wood and iron door set into the thick, rough stone of the tower. Above them, the light continued to revolve into the darkness.

         Minutes passed and it seemed like hours.

         At last, the door swung inwards and a man of forty or so sets greeted them. He was thin and well dressed in supple leathers and a cape of rich purple. His clothes were strangely styled; but then, Yon thought, this was a strange place. He carried a staff with a glass lantern, lit and fixed to the top.

         “You are most welcome, travellers. Please come in,” the keeper said to them, bowing.

         Yon stepped forward and bowed without taking his eyes off of him. “Thank you, sama. I am Captain Yon-no-Akana of the Company vessel, Wolfbride. These are my men.”

         “Ah, I am Kyuichi the Keeper and I tend this Lighthouse. Your crew is small; Captain Akana-san, and these islands are unsafe. Please, come in and up to the fire. You may then wish to tell me of your adventures. I have not had visitors in some time and I am eager to hear of the world beyond the Darkwater.”

         Yon forced a smile then turned to his crew, “Let us enter.”

         They followed the man up a spiral staircase cut into the round walls and stopped at the halfway point of the tower. A trap door in the ceiling folded back to a large and open room. There was a fireplace set into the wall, blazing merrily. It also contained a kitchen and dining area of sorts, with a wide, low table. The furniture and trim were simply carved and scrubbed clean.

         From a closet, Kyuichi produced a tall stack of zabutans and placed them around the low table. He said to them, “Please be seated as I prepare a supper.”

         All twelve men sank down onto the cushions as the Lighthouse Keeper filled a large pot with water and busied himself with vegetables and meats.

         Kyuichi had a gentle manner about him and a kind speech. While still on guard, Yon found himself able to relax somewhat.

         “I insist that you bathe yourselves thoroughly, gentlemen,” Kyuichi said, tapping a keg of barley wine, “I mean no disrespect you see, however you absolutely reek of brine and filth. You will find clean linens as well as warm water on the level above us.    

           Now, I would be honored if you shared my wine. You may fill a bowl and take it with you upstairs.”

         Again, the crewmen were grateful and after each accepting a bowl of sweet smelling wine, they filed up to the next level to begin their washing.

         Yon stayed behind to speak with the keeper. He began by asking him, “You said these are islands, which may they be?”

         “These are the Etchu Islands, Captain Akana. Do you know of them?”

         “By the gods,” Yon swore, taking a deep drink of the wine, “This seems to be the age of children’s tales. The Etchu Islands are not real.”

         Kyuichi laughed softly, “I am afraid they are very real and beyond the reach of your gods. What do you know of the islands?”

         Yon thought a moment. “They are the Hell Islands as they house the gates to the Eleven Hells. There are Onmyojis, wizards, who dwell here, Yin-Yang diviners who work dark wonders. I seem to remember a place called the City of Corpses where people are raised from the dead and put into service of the demon lord, King Emma. But this cannot be.”

         “Close. It is those things and more,” the keeper said, “There are people here same as you and I. Bred and raised to be sacrificed then brought back as undead things. There is a war being waged, you see, and has been for almost three hundred sets. The demon host of King Emma, battle the legions of the undead, who themselves are under the sway of the diviners ruling the City of Corpses. They struggle for control of the Eleven Gates, as if either side will know what to do with them once they are claimed.”   

         Kyuichi brought the large stew he was making to a simmer and placed a lid over it. He poured a bowl of wine for himself and sat down onto a zabutan and continued, “And I tell you this, whatever lays on the other side of those torii gates is more terrible than both armies combined.”

         “What would they hope to do if they could command them?” Yon asked. The wine was going to his head now and he knew that he should not become drunk.

         “I could not rightly conjecture, yet if I had to, I would say that they would hope to take dominion of the world.”

         “Hmm,” Yon replied, “I do not believe that they would travel farther than the Ocean of the Sun. The gods still walk the world, and it was they who created the gates to bind the shattered Darkness to the eleven realms; that is if I remember the story correctly. They could do it again I imagine, it is said that the gods only grow stronger with each passing season.”

         “I am sure that you are right,” Kyuichi agreed.

         “Will you honor me by telling me how you came to be keeper here, Kyuichi-san?”  Yon asked.

         “Hai, of course,” he stood and went to the stew to stir it. “You see captain, I myself was born and raised in the City of Corpses, but escaped before I could be killed.”

         “Astonishing. Especially if half of what I recollect of these islands are true.”

         “Indeed. I tell you, fortune was with me at every turn. Eventually, I found this place and I have been safe here ever since. Once in a great while, I will receive visitors and I am able to offer them my hospitality,” Kyuichi brought out large bowls and began to set them on the low table. 
         “Now, Captain; will you not tell me how you came to be at my door?”

         Yon began his tale - the priest going into the sea, the hurricane, losing most of his crew the day before, and the pale-fleshed beast in the shallows. Some things he left out, such as Captain Run-tan’s ordeal and then apparently going mad; and he

left out what Run-tan had said about great hounds ripping into the Wolfbride, maintaining the fiction that a reef caused them damage.

         Kyuichi would nod sympathetically as Yon would tell of this or that.

         He felt that kind faced Kyuichi was worthy of his trust, but still he did not wish to reveal all of his tiles, perhaps this came from years of gambling.

         By the time the men had marched down to join them, Yon had finished and the keeper had begun to ladle thick, savory smelling stew into their bowls.

         The men were in high spirits and looked refreshed in the clean clothing and with good wine in them. This was of great relief  to the first mate turned captain, and Yon found himself filled with gratitude for their host.

         After their supper, the keeper produced several wooden pipes and a box of fine smelling brown leaf for smoking. The men were beside themselves at this generosity and thanked him.

         “It is my pleasure, gentlemen,” he told them, “You see, it is a gift left over from previous guests.”

         After more wine and a second round of excellent smoke, the keeper led them to the third level, which contained sleeping mats. On the curved walls hung large leather tapestries, pieced together and embroidered with strange and exotic geometry.

         “I am afraid I do not have any blankets to speak of and it can get quite drafty up here once the fire dies down, however you will find in that closet against the wall, a fine collection of cloaks you may choose from that will keep you warm throughout the night,” Kyuichi said, “Now if you will excuse me, I will retire to my room on the next level.”

         “A thousand gratitudes, good Keeper Kyuichi-san,” Yon said, bowing; “I, however, will sleep in my cloak as captain.”

         The keeper smiled and stared at him for a moment, then bowed. “Indeed, Captain Akana.”

         Kyuichi turned and began his ascent up the stairs.

         As he found a mat and lay down onto it, Yon cursed silently to himself for being disrespectful to their host. No, he thought, my duty first is to my position, and a captain must always wear his mantle when off ship unless while on leave.

         The men were pleased to select from the red or blue capes of thick, soft velvet they found in the closet. They reasoned that these too must have been gifts from the last group to stay in the lighthouse. They talked amongst themselves about what they should bring up from the ship in the morning to honor their host with.

         For the first time since before the hurricane, Yon permitted himself a genuine smile at seeing the crew in good form and safe. After everything they had suffered, they deserved this much at least. He almost got up to pick a cape to sleep beneath for extra warmth, but he was so tired and comfortable that before he could make up his mind, he had already drifted into sleep.

           That night, Yon had a strange and terrible dream.

         When he was a young man, he had had a daughter. She died before her third set of summers and afterwards; his wife, in her grief, had left him for another man. It was then that he had decided to join the Company as a deckhand, and in his grief, left the memories of them both for the sea.

         It was the cries of his little girl, O’ Aya, that he heard now. He found himself on an ocean of black ink, perfectly smooth and devoid of any wind. The ship he was on wasn’t even a ship, but a wooden tub that he barely fit into.

         The sky was laden with stars, but they shone weakly as if the whole affair had been heavily lacquered, save for the Center Star. It appeared as a bright and baleful eye, slowly blinking – no, it was revolving.

         It became the lighthouse and all around him the sounds of his daughter’s cries grew louder, though he could not tell from which direction they came. Then screams began to gradually fade in. At first he thought it was the screams of animals; but as he strained to comprehend, he could tell they were the screams of men, and they joined the cries of O’ Aya. It was as if the entire universe was one deafening chorus of heartache and pain.

         He began to think that the awful sound was coming from the ocean around him; but as he leaned closer to hear, he realized that the cries and screams were the ocean itself and just like the Air priest from the Port of Rains, he tumbled into the water.

           He sat up awake and in a heavy sweat. The screams were real and all around him. The room was dark.

         Yon bolted for the door that led down to the kitchen and threw it open, stumbling down the stairs and landing on the floor at the bottom.

         In the light of the fireplace, he saw Kyuichi casually walk down the stairs behind him, wiping his bloodied hands on a piece of rough spun linen. The screams of his men had ceased.

         Yon backed away from him and Kyuichi stopped at the foot of the stairs and only stared at him.

         After a moment he said, “There is no need to worry, Captain Akana, you are quite safe. You were wise to keep your own cloak, and because of that, I may not harm you.”

         “How could you?” Yon started, “There are rules – you are a Keeper!”

         “Hai,” Kyuichi replied mildly, “I am a keeper of skin. You see, I require it for the wonders I work. You may keep yours, however. You may keep your rules as well. They do not apply here on the Islands of Etchu.”

         From behind the keeper, a figure moved from the shadows and Yon witnessed a blade slide smoothly from the chest of Kyuichi and twist. Kyuichi frowned and looked down at the sword protruding from the front of him. He opened his mouth to say something and only black blood came. He choked and fell forward to the floor. Standing behind him was Run-tan, looking down at the keeper and shaking his head.

         “Dishonorable,” he said.

         “Kyuichi the Keeper, I would like for you to meet Captain Run-tan Osaka, also of the Company vessel, Wolfbride,” Yon said.

         “He is no true Keeper, Captain Yon-no-Akana. A real steward would never shut off his tower light, which is what this creature has done. I am grateful however, for this is how I knew you were in danger,” then he turned to Kyuichi who was struggling on the floor, “My crew deserved to die at better hands than yours.”

         He withdrew his blade and brought it down in an arc, separating Kyuichi’s head from its body.

         They found the keeper’s lantern staff in the kitchen and lit it to see what lay up above.

         All eleven men were dead.

         Two of them had selected blue velvet capes and were found strangled until their faces were of the same color.

         Those who had chosen the capes of red had the skin on their backs, from neck to heel, cleanly removed.

         The level above them was the keeper’s sleeping quarters and there they found the fresh skins of their men stretched to dry on racks. The skins of previous visitors to the lighthouse were strewn about in various stages of having hideous mandalas embroidered on them in different colored threads.

         It was gruesome business, yet the two captains gathered the skins and bodies of their crewmen, matching one to the other so their spirits would know peace. They wrapped these in linen and carried them downstairs for ceremony.

         Run-tan and Yon gathered what supplies they could and packed them aboard the Wolfbride. They broke open cask after cask of lamp oil, soaking the inside of the lighthouse. Then they took the remaining casks and set them outside for later.

         The two men were about to set the whole thing to a torch when Run-tan cursed and shouted to stop. He dragged Yon back inside and made him help to look for a door that might lead them beneath the structure.

         They quickly discovered a hatch covered by rushes that led down to a single cell. Neither of them had taken a light for fear of catching the oil afire prematurely, so Yon followed while Run-tan felt around in the dark until he found what he had been looking for.

         “Help me with him!” Run-tan whispered urgently.

         To Yon’s surprise, they carried a living, though unconscious man up into daylight and safely aboard the Wolfbride. He was covered in dust and all of his clothes were practically rotted off of him. His white hair was wavy and filthy, the same for his goatee. His only ornament was a strange medallion in the shape of a conch that hung about his neck.

         They cut loose the Wolfbride from the dock and let her drift a ways before anchoring her. Using the oar boat, they rowed to the dock and laid their crew out on to it. The two men emptied the last of the oil onto the dock and made their way to the tower and set it to flame. As the lighthouse cast light one last time, they climbed into the oar boat; and passing the dock, turned it into a pyre.

         Back on the ship, they watched the dock become an inferno and then collapse into the water. After saying their farewells, they set about to make a choice. They must find a way to repair the ship, or load what they could into the oar boat and cast their fates to the will of the ocean.

         Neither choice seemed hopeful.

         Run-tan was convinced that the old man they had rescued was Ojiisan, an Immortal from legend who had saved the Wolfbride from the hurricane; and that if they could wake him, he might be able to save them once more.

         Yon’s sense of logic sparked a protest inside of him, but after the last couple of days he found himself open to the possibility that Run-tan might be in the right.

         After a few minutes or so of trying to rouse him without success, Yon simply reached over and pulled the medallion he was wearing off. Run-tan made to stop him, but held back.

         The old man’s eyes began to flutter and his breathing went from virtually nonexistent to regular, then to fits of coughing.

         “Fool that I am! I cannot believe I fell for this damned thing,” the old man snatched up the amulet off of the deck and threw it as far as he could into the water.

         He was starting to regain his bearings though he still seemed agitated.

         “Who are you and what am I doing on board this ship?” he demanded.

         Run-tan squatted down beside him and stared at him with thin trails of tears coursing down his cheeks.

         “I am called Run-tan, sama; and I am returning a favor.”

                               Epilogue

        

         “We do not doubt you, Yon-no-Akana-san,” the Company Investigator said, escorting him to a desk in the center of the room and then taking the seat across from him, “You are honorable in your actions and loyal to your position.”

         Yon nodded without taking his eyes off of Investigator Tsugu.

         Tsugu went on, “As you know, we have retired Captain Osaka-san with full pension and now he has the rest of his life to spend with his family. He is taken care of.”

         “What of the Wolfbride?” Yon asked.

         “The Wolfbride is no more. The Company has disassembled the ship and melted it down.”

         “If I may ask– why?”

         “The Company believes that it would be.. unlucky to continue its journeys.”

         “Superstition,” Yon muttered.

         “Personally,” the investigator said, “I agree. However, I do not make these decisions nor do they concern me. You concern me, sama. Your captain, crewmates, and voyage; these things concern me as well. We will require you to sign a disclosure stating that you will not speak of what happened while on the Darkwater Sea, and most importantly, that you will not mention this person who claimed to be Ojiisan, the Immortal Man.”

         “Of course I will sign. The more time that passes the more unlikely it all seems. Sometimes, I think that I would happily forget all of it if I could, although I would never wish to forget the men whom I served with. They deserve better than that.”

         “Again, I agree. The men who had families have had their pensions turned over to them; the Company honors those who have lost their lives in service. Now the question remains, what do you wish to do?”

         Yon had been on land for twenty and one days now, making up his mind to that very question.

         “I feel that my years at sea have made me a good sailor, and I mean not to boast, but an excellent sailor. It has made me who I am,” Yon took a drink of water. He continued, “I think that to walk away from the sea at this point would to be turning my back on the memories of my crewmates, it would mean never seeing my friend, Run-tan; but ultimately, I would be running away from my life and I will not do that again.

         With the Company’s grace, I wish to return to the sea.”

         Tsugu looked at him a moment and nodded.

         “We had hoped that this would be your decision. You are informally granted title of Captain and will be given your cloak with ceremony once you reach forty and six in the spring,” he stood and bowed to Yon, “A new ship awaits your inspection when you are ready, Captain Akana-san.”

         Yon rose and returned the bow.

         “What is the name of my ship?” Yon asked.

         “Ah, I think you will approve. It is called Neversink.”

         Yon smiled.

         After signing the parchments set before him, Captain Yon-no-Akana of the Company vessel, Neversink; left the tall building on Canal Avenue and made his way to the harbor to see about his ship.