The boat moved forward, Pikoll paddling with steady strokes. He held the wooden handles tightly, his eyes shining. "Captain, remember Fubham? This feels just like when we landed there. I was nervous at first, dreading the climb. These shores look almost the same. But luck was on our side then," Pikoll said, showing the large left tooth in his crooked grin. The others stared at the jagged steps ahead, their eyes full of curiosity.
"I feel uneasy right now, tired even," said Kelan to the ravenous laughs of his crew. They know what's ahead of them, and they understand his words. Such an endeavor for a captain of his rank in the army of their kingdom. As the wind rustled through his hair, Kelan felt a nagging fear gnawing at him, a fear that always accompanied the memories of their Fubham venture. Yet, unlike Fubham, this mission held a different weight. Deep inside, he feared the possibility of failure and what it might cost him, and a silent hope flickered within him that this journey might redeem some of the missteps he took in his earlier days, making them whole again.
When the laughter died down, he went on, "Fubham wasn't easy at first, but all we had to do was sell our big fish to the rich people there. Here, Pikoll, we're facing a whole army that deals with the worst prisoners in the kingdom every day."
"Hmm, indeed," commented Ursti.
The boat draws at last to the waves at the bottom of the heightened shore. The faces of the guards above study them with discerning eyes. "Climb now, you have a brief moment, so be quick and get on with it," shouted Plarutin from the open post above. The other guards had already left the place; now they stood directly at the top of the steps waiting to inspect the men when they arrived on the surface.
Their feet slapped against the rocks, stumbling as if drunk, each man teetering on the edge of a fall. Every step was a search for a rough surface to hold, hands grasping for safety. As they climbed, the icy spray from the merciless waves chilled their hot skin. The air carried a sharp, iron tang, mingling with the salt in the breeze, making each breath an effort. The climb was wild and pathless, shaped by centuries of Ikomzil's restless tides. The stone bore scars, each one a warning of the dangers ahead.
This is the worst shore I've ever seen," Pikoll grumbled. "Fubham was like strolling on warm river sand next to this misery." He paused mid-climb, his face hardening with the weight of his task.
While the men navigated the harsh climb, the two women on the ship slipped quietly into the shadows of the vessel, disappearing from view.
"Where did those ladies go?" asked the short guard with the large head, a hand on his belt under him. "To where? Below deck to mourn the imprisonment of these fools," exclaimed the guard to his left, who had first seen the ship earlier. The three laughed so loud and hard that they were gasping for air.
"Let them laugh now and cry later," whispered Trognol to his fellows.He is the last man at the bottom, so that his words don't get to the happy guards' overhead.
On the ship, Ifuna and Weana walk at a fast pace along the hallway,"What is with hunger, Ifuna?" Weana asked.
"Lack of sleep. We had rations last night and woke up too early. My sleep was minimal because I was just imagining how it would feel to meet my father again," she retorted.
The two women stopped at the front of a large room. "They are on the island," announced Ifuna. "Perfect. Time to begin" a voice, resonant as darkness altered from the room.
After a shuffling noise echoed, men's feet pounced from the room. They began to appear at the door. The two ladies stood at the other end of the hall, but the men said nothing to them. They walked as if to battle. None wore outfits like the crew on the island. Instead, they wore segmented armor.
The five men matched deeper into the hall.
The ladies turned to face the direction they had come. "Hopefully Kelan hasn't sent the signal," stated Weana amidst the silence around them. "Ah, they barely got to the surface when we came down. They will still settle in first," replied Ifuna.
"You boys, a straight line now," said Plarutin with his arm stretched towards the crew who had successfully reached the surface of Ikomzil.
"A quick inspection, and you can sit around here for your bread breaking and what else you need land for," he added with a face filled with anger.
The guards stepped forward and began to search the men before them.
"Nothing," one said, "light as a leaf," another relayed. These words continued until all nine of them were thoroughly inspected. They stood still at first, and Kelan observed the faces of his men. "Let me speak with them quickly," he said in a low tone.
Kelan walked forward and called out, "My good masters, allow me to show a little appreciation, please?" he put his hands together in a calm gesture.
Plarutin tilted his head to the right, as if observing what stood before him, his eyes hard but not unkind.
"Kelan," he rumbled in a jarring voice. "You and your men understand this is not usual, aye?"
"We do, Chief," Kelan replied, offering a respectful nod. He reached into his pouch, withdrawing a handful of shimmering silver. "A token of our gratitude for allowing us to dock. The lads appreciate the safe harbor."
Plarutin accepted the coins with a calloused hand, his gaze unwavering.
"Ikomzil's shore isn't known for its hospitality. See that your crew keeps to themselves. We have enough…guests…as it is."
Kelan swallowed, the air suddenly thick with the weight of the prison. "Of course, Chief. They understand. We just… we were hoping for a small favor, if it's within your power."
Plarutin raised a sharp eyebrow. "A favor? From Ikomzil? That's a rare request indeed. Speak your mind, Kelan."
Kelan took a deep breath. "The journey has been long, and the men are weary. We'd be willing to pay for a lodge just for a few hours. A chance to rest our bones, perhaps share a meal that isn't salted fish, before we head back to sea. Nothing more, I promise."
"A room… within Ikomzil's walls?" he finally said, a hint of something unreadable in his voice. "That is… unusual."
Plarutin was silent for a long moment, his gaze sweeping over Kelan, assessing his sincerity. The wind howled around them, carrying the faint, chilling sound of cries and screams from distant halls.
Plarutin eventually broke the silence. "I will see what can be arranged, Kelan. But do not think this is a common occurrence. Ensure your crew behaves. Ikomzil has little patience for disturbances." He turned and strode back towards the imposing gates of the prison, leaving the crew on the black sand, the sound of the ocean a constant reminder of the unforgiving nature of their situation.