Killian awoke in a cold sweat. It took a moment to recall exactly where he was in the pitch black, and another for his eyes to adjust well enough again to even see an inch in front of his face. He steadied his breathing so as to not call any unwanted attention to himself. As he clasped his hands together in front of him, it took a concentrated effort to stop them from shaking. A rhythmic breathing to his right told him that Sharroc too had fallen asleep.
As Killian tried to calm his frayed nerves, the rocking ship and deafening silence mercilessly dragged him back into the memory of his dream until he could no longer stand it. Casting his fears aside, he silently rose from the bench on trembling legs and made his way towards the stairs, nearly tripping in the dark on the legs of an Orc who had passed out on the bench. Grasping the railing tightly in one hand and taking a deep breath, he began his ascent towards the blue light of the night sky. Having his sights locked firmly on his shoes with each step, Killian nearly ran into the red-bearded dwarf from earlier. Rulger gave Killian a narrow-eyed glare as they came face-to-face, which Killian matched with one of steadfast defiance.
With a grunt, Rulger shoved past the bard and continued on his way down below. Killian let go of the breath he was holding. He was certain that he would be told to return into the bowels of the slaver, though he was grateful that was not the case. He continued up until he reached the main deck. He gasped as he rose into the night, screwing his eyes tightly shut as the sea air caressed his cheeks. It took many minutes for Killian to work up the courage to open them. Carefully, he stepped to the railing that separated him from the endless ocean.
There was little that separated the sky from the waters, save the churning black waves that rippled like freshly spilled ink. Killian found it more of a comfort to gaze upward at the sea of endless stars. He hadn't spent more than a moment in this rare tranquility than his peace was interrupted by footsteps.
"Shouldn't be above decks. If Durgan spots you it'll be fire and ash."
"What is it he'll do exactly?" Killian sighed, "Throw me overboard?"
He turned to face his nephew, who held himself upright against his mop with both hands, a grey wool cap pulled tightly over his ears and shock of blonde hair.
"What is it you're doing at this time of night, anyhow?"
Thorian looked away sullenly. "Captain wasn't pleased with my tardiness earlier, or about…" He looked back at Killian and shrugged. "Not that I mind the night crew. It's quiet and calm, gives a lot of time for thought. Though the air is a bit heavy tonight."
Killian nodded absentmindedly, hoping for an end to the conversation.
"You shouldn't anger Durgan. We're still a ways from Grimstone, with many desolate shoals and skerries in between to be marooned on."
"I'll make it to the Eye, one way or another." Killian mumbled, still caught in the dreamy absence of thought as he studied the night sky.
"Why are you going to Skjarandell, Uncle?" Thorian whispered with a shake of his head, "What is there in the Misty Islands for you?"
Killian slowly came awake. About to speak, the words caught in his throat. Carefully, he posed his question.
"Did Aldred or Mira ever read to you from Frugar's Fables?" Killian asked, his voice low.
Thorian nodded in response, clearly recalling the children's book and many similar ones that were familiar to the youth of the Dracticos Isles.
"Frugar the Giant, sure - he walked across the sea from the North, lived in a mountain, right?" Thorian smiled and gave his Uncle a queer look.
"Do you remember the story of Frugar and Flagi?"
Thorian scanned his memory for all the tales of the friendly giant until the one in question dawned on him.
"That's the one where Flagi the Valkyrie visits the Misty Islands and plays a melody outside Frugar's cave. Frugar asks the Valkyrie to teach him to play but Flagi laughs and tells him he's too big, so Frugar goes and carves up a whole tree before…" Suddenly Thorian's heart dropped and his voice caught in his throat as he began to catch on, "...oh Uncle, you can't mean that you're actually searching for the Titanstrum…"
Killian nodded slowly but with firm conviction.
"B-but it's just a myth! A children's story!" Thorian cried out, unable to hide his exasperation.
"Don't expect an answer from me the next time you ask your prying little questions." Killian turned with a snap that he thought would effectively cow his nephew. He couldn't stand it when others went blissfully unaware of their proper place. Strangely enough, Thorian felt unwilling to back down.
"If grandpa Gresham was of a mind to know this is where you'd gone to after leaving Cantelcross, he'd never have permitted it."
Killian barked a hideous and bitter laugh. "I could not exactly say if he was worse of a father before or after he'd lost his wits... I'd rather have rotted in Flotsam the rest of my years than spent a second more in Cantelcross bleeding my damned fingers for… ash TAKE him!"
Thorian stood aghast at Killian's curse as he slammed his fist down on the railing, shifting uneasily but at the very least grateful that he hadn't been on the receiving end of his Uncle's fury. Killian regained control of his senses, not wishing to cause large enough of a scene to be condemned back amongst the slaves. After a pause, he recalled what Ghuzul had told him earlier and quickly scanned the deck, only to find that the burlap bundle had vanished.
"Take care of it, did you?" Killian asked sourly, a scornful glint in his eyes.
Thorian nodded somberly. "Have to wait until we're far enough at sea, so they don't wash up on shore…locals don't care for that very much - won't let us bury them either."
"I'm certain it's the most cost-effective method." Said Killian.
"I did the best I could for Shura," Thorian said defensively, "when she came down with the Bite, I spent what I could afford on medicine, brought clean water and the least rotten food, it just wasn't enough."
A look of gloom overtook his fair, young face. "What do you care for it anyhow?"
Killian shrugged off the question, not entirely knowing the answer himself. He did not care for the Orcs, not really. Business was business, regardless of how unsavory that business might be. It was to be expected that such trades would suffer losses.
"Just thinking of the things Gresham would and wouldn't approve of, since you seemed keen on the topic." Killian sneered. A steady drizzle had formed from the cold night air, working up to a full shower.
"Not all of us can make a living chasing fables," Thorian responded sadly, "You'd best be getting back, Uncle."
For once Killian chose not to protest, as his tunic was already growing heavy with water. He nodded and braced himself to return below. Thorian watched Killian's back without another word spoken. As he blindly navigated the stairway, Killian once again passed Rulger, who held a knotted leather strap tightly in one hand. He gave Killian no more than a passing glance as he moved swiftly to the main deck.
As his eyes once again adjusted to the hold, Killian saw several heads nervously turn towards him. An Orc - one that had fallen asleep - had been badly beaten, and was covered in massive welts and gashes that blotched the majority of his bare body. He trembled and whimpered as Killian wordlessly passed to reclaim his seat. Sharroc, who had awoken in the time Killian was gone, now turned to him as he sat. Tired eyes matched his haggard voice.
"Grumshall," He murmured, "will you play song?"
Killian was on the verge of refusing before he considered his options. He sighed, and, nodding slowly, carefully pulled his lute from its case.
Nearly six roats since my last free performance, ah, well…
He thought to himself as he strummed a quiet melody into the night.