Book 2 Ch 22: Wailing Wood

A journey to the elven isles has been considered. Supposedly it is where they hailed from to begin with. It was decided against though. It would be better to wait until they grow new forests of elfwood before we consider pursuit.

• Admiral Strixen in a letter to General Thrugood

Solomon’s mind roiled and reeled as his mana oscillated wildly. He felt as if the ship he was on was being tossed on waves even though it had not yet left the dock. His skull screamed in agony as it was being pierced by a pick. He made his way to the pot in the corner, preparing to vomit, and braced himself with his bare hand against the wood of the wall. That’s when he heard the wailing.

Crying filled his ears and consumed his senses as his hand touched the elfwood of the wall. His mana resonated with it, bubbling and boiling as the cries built up within his mind. He yanked his hand from the ship wall to grip the pot with both hands and vomit. This continued until his stomach was completely empty.

Eventually Edmure arrived and helped him to the hammock which would be his bed. He managed to offer some excuse about seasickness as his consciousness blurred. He was unsure of how much time had passed after that. He would close his eyes and open them to find himself standing in the midst of a great and beautiful forest, then he’d blink to find himself standing in a gray and desolate waste covered in tree stumps, then he’d blink again and be staring up at the cabin ceiling.

He had vague memories of Edmure spooning broth into his mouth, helping him to sip water, and giving him some medicine. His conscious experiences began to blend with the many days he’d spent sick in bed as a child at the Morrow estate. Memories of a red-haired woman running her fingers through his hair as he was sweating with fever. His mother, he thought, in a rare expression of care for him. At some point the ship had begun moving, though how far they’d gone, Solomon had no clue.

He awoke unsure of the time, his location, or much of anything. It was dark in the cabin. His mana seemed to have finally calmed, and the fever its tumult had given him had broken. He laid in the hammock, trying to focus his mana further to bring it under control. He’d left his uncle’s walking stick behind, afraid that the mana he channeled through it would be easy to detect, but he felt at that moment that the risk would’ve been well worth it.

After staring at the ceiling for some time, feeling the hammock move from side to side, he decided to try to stand. He managed it, but his legs felt weak and uncertain below him. He made his way to the wall, and held a hand up to it, hesitating for just a moment before he placed his palm against it.

As before he heard the wailing of dozens of voices. It was quieter though, and he heard a soft song being sung in the background of it, though he couldn’t quite make out the words. He kept his hand there for a few moments.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered in elvish. “Be calm.” The words were hollow comforts, he knew, but he felt he should offer them something.

There was a kind of acceptance to what he’d offered, and the cries quieted and softened a bit. He repeated a few more base platitudes, doing his best to provide what comfort he could.

He hadn’t anticipated that his mana would react so strongly to the elfwood ship, but it made sense. It had been that of an elven god originally. He’d heard before that the elves had claimed their woods were sacred, that they acted as a resting place for the dead. It appeared that was truly the case, though he’d only ever heard it dismissed as the weakness of empathy for a conquered enemy. It was likely the union and church knew. He supposed to them it was unimportant.

With his mana feeling more calm he made his way back to his hammock, climbing in and closing his eyes. He presumed that Edmure had claimed seasickness to the others. What other excuse could there be?

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Eventually the rocking of the hammock caused him to drift off to sleep. A peaceful, dreamless sleep.

…

Solomon awoke one morning to the light coming through his porthole. He slowly pushed himself out of his hammock. He still felt weak, but his mana was in a much better state and his mind felt much clearer. He walked carefully over to the porthole. It was bright, and he had to squint for a few moments for his eyes to adjust, but once they did he saw an endless expanse of blue ocean and sky, broken up only by a smattering of clouds or their reflections.

He was standing there staring when Edmure entered the cabin.

“Lord! It is good to see you up.”

Solomon turned to him. “It is good to be up.” he left the porthole and walked over to where a desk and chair were bolted, sitting. “I hope that the Captain didn’t take offense to my confinement.”

Edmure shook his head. “Quite the contrary. He’s mentioned that you’re perhaps his favorite passenger yet.”

Solomon thought back to his introduction to the man. “I’d believe that. How far along are we?”

“We’re roughly a week underway. The third mate informed me that we were having slow going most of the week, but today he mentioned that things seem to have sped up significantly.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Would you be able to eat something lord?” he asked, a touch of concern in his voice.

“Yes. Please bring me something solid.”

Edmure nodded and left swiftly, likely heading straight for the galley. He returned shortly after with bread, cheese, and a cup of soup. Solomon ate it carefully, letting his stomach slowly reacclimate to having more than just some broth. After he was done he found he needed to lay down a bit longer to digest the food, but after an hour he was well enough to get dressed and make his way onto the deck. In addition to his purple suit, he donned a short, wide brimmed flat hat to block out the sun.

He stepped carefully out on the deck, careful of his gait as the ship moved beneath him. He was buffeted by a cool breeze and needed to grab onto his hat to steady it. He could see a number of navy men working all across the deck. They were climbing the rigging, cleaning the deck, or hauling crates and barrels across it. The reasons for each of these actions were beyond Solomon, but they looked quite important and impressive.

Solomon made sure that he wouldn't be underfoot and carefully made his way to the edge of the ship, looking out over the massive expanse of water that surrounded him. There was something uniquely soothing to it. The sun, the sky, the waves, watching them for some time made him feel as if he had some greater understanding of the universe. It was a false feeling, but a pleasant one.

As he stood there he started to hear singing. It was the same tune he’d heard when he’d touched the bare wood of the ship in the earliest black hours of the day.

“The trees they dance,

The deer they prance,

The elves they run,

From moon to sun,

Peace we shall find,

Where the two are entwined”

The words were in elvish, and several of the lower ranking sailors were singing it lightly at the same time. Their tone was almost soothing, as if they were reciting poetry rather than singing.

Third officer Alanse, who’d been approaching them, noticed his curious expression.

“It calms the ship,” he said as he approached. “At least that’s what many sailors believe.”

Alanse had dark hair and eyes and his skin was tan from the sun.

“And what do you believe?” asked Solomon.

“I thought it a superstition for some time, but I’ve served on ships where the men were not allowed this superstition and things always seemed to go wrong more often on them. Some even complained of having nightmares if they don’t sing them.”

“Do this many men know elvish?”

He shrugged. “A few might know some words. I think most just memorized a few songs they heard other sailors sing.”

Solomon nodded. That explained why the wails of the souls within the ship had calmed and why his own mana had been able to calm in response. He felt that his mana would’ve come under control on its own eventually, but he didn’t want to be trapped delirious in his cabin for the entirety of their two month trip.

“It is good to see you out and about. There was great concern over you. I have not heard of such a severe case of seasickness.”

“Me neither, or I may have foregone the trip,” said Solomon with a light smile.

The sailor chuckled. “Would you care to join the officers for dinner?”

Solomon thought, realizing what day it was as he looked up at the faint outline of the moon in the morning sky. He had a meeting of the Arcana that evening.

“I’m afraid I must decline tonight. Even just this walk to the deck has me at my limits.”

“Of course, Lord,” replied Alanse with a slight bow.

With that Solomon made his way back down to his cabin. He needed to prepare.