"RETURN TO THE SHRINE"

ANCIENT LEGEND #15.

The estuarial ebb carried the departing fleet to it’s sparkling dawn mouth, Cheeid accompanying two coast hugging vessels southward. The three sturdier newly decorated ships heading North East towards Skaelperstraendum. Each of the five carried a small contingent of Hengelts. Just a few of the Whitten remained at the Hollow Hill. Morgatn and Svelka stood at the Carved forespit, his attention switching from one to the other flanking crews busy with raising their sails, standing their oars vertically in readiness. Fascinating indeed for no Hengelt had needed to venture beyond the mouth since the terrors of the Great Vloede. Glancing back at the mere hint of the shore left behind, he nervously asked Svelka how she knew the direction in which they must head “Easy, we sail by the starmarks above” “But they ever change, and hide by day !?” “Why yes, we follow the teaching of Kenna Warreid as given by Asterigh av Navani” “Kenna Warried is of our creed too, but what or who is Esterigh av…. ?” “Nay my friend, Who Was She ! well she was a companion of Wijken av Viskerbij, they were the Oracles for the two tribes of Goerthelant, we shall visit their shrine in on arrival” “Aha, I see…”

Over the previous cycle Morgatn had learned much of Wijken and Skandar, how they had survived the Vloede, how Moeder av Dreyfuss had not. Svelke continued “According to Asterigh there is but one starmark by day, Old Abala” with which she pointed at the quarter risen Sun. “What ! You mean Zalto is a starmark too, yet greater in size the the rest together ?” “It is of the same size, yet closer” “This Esterigh of yours spoke strange wisdoms, and from where ?” “It is taught that the Navani were seeded here, by those stars” “Enough ! Enough !! This I must ponder in silence” “Then go to Stinn, our steersman and observe the skill of our travel”

Barely coping with the movement of the sea, Morgatn made his way along the raised centredeck, between the wary and grinning crew, then sat quietly, queasily watching at the rear, until Zalto rose high and hot above those friendly blustery clouds. Feeling a little weak he inquired of the steersman how long must this discomfort last before seeing land beyond this rippling wilderness. “That is not known, we have never left landsight before” Alarmed at the answer, in spite of it’s gentle delivery, Morgatn groaned, turned about, gifting a colourful sour yawn to an eager fish and bird patrol.

By nightfall the cheerful breeze dropped, down came the sails, half the crew set about rowing the night. Come dawnlight the breeze returned, but from the opposite direction. Time for the other half of the crew to relieve their fellows. By day the rowers pulled hard, driven by rhythmic chants, by night a little slower, in utter silence. Morgatn queried of Svelka as to how this may affect the journey time. “We need a wind in favour, that we may rest awhile, for this one that faces us could flex it’s muscles, prevent our progress” “What then is to be done ?” “We can bring aboard a pair of oarsmen from each of our other ships, who would progress in our lee, but that could bring danger of collision” “Or you could learn to steer, whilst I and Stinn join the rowers”

And so it went, with the spray from wind and oar, caking his eyes red for some nights and days with little respite, the small fleet pushed on. As the skins of brackish water gradually emptied, the ration diminished. “What now Svelke ?” “The remains of the fish we catch, we lay on the centredeck, as bait for birds instead of fish. We drink the blood of birds” “We will need many birds” “Jaiwah, Warreid ! We must be careful of many savage beaks, but it can be done, we will live” Two days later they became becalmed long enough to row with ease, pausing a while to gather many fish. The day after one oarsman took a nasty slash to his face from a heavy sharpbill. Svelke treated the wound with salt and herbs, but to no avail, the man died in agony. Morgatn took his place, his oar.

A wind of favour blew once more bringing cold refreshing rain to fill the skins, as they pressed on, and on. A Long half moon passed, when Svelke at the spit espied a small craft in the near distance. The three crews doubled manned the oars to speedily encircle the stranger. It’s occupants spoke a tongue that was impenetrable for the Hengelts, yet similar enough for Svelke’s Whitten to engage with. The good news was that in another day they would reach the coast, and perhaps two more to Skaelperstrandum. The commander of the heroes took a great deal of satisfaction from her people’s compliments on her Navigation skills. Completing the arduous voyage had Morgatn’s party in total Awe. They had survived…..

Once beached at the first island they rested and rejoiced with their ancient bretheren. Meanwhile a fast moving narrow sailboat carried away a M’Hernucus Maratoni to bring the tidings to Viskerbij and Annavisker.

Visiting the capital Harbour they were much impressed by the wood carvings, one in particular caught Morgatn’s attention. An exceptionally old and well cared for image of a wild haired woman, a small child in her arms, an ornate winged band encircling each head. One of the hosts explained that this was from a pair of ships that had established the community here. The figures were the only remains of one of those ships, now adapted as a Totem in honour of Wijken av Viskerbij, the first Edtwanna, Oracle to the Visker Goethenlanten. The child being Achana, one of her nephews. Once the visitors reached Annavisker, they would find another, his brother Aahno.

But first they would be escorted to the Shrine itself, where Totems of all the Historical Forebears of the Tribe could be seen and honoured. Then, and only then could they make the short coastal trip to the Great Oval Hall at Viskerbij. There they would be introduced to the Learned Elders, their Illuminatii, the History of the Long Trek from Alanadorus, the mystery of the vanished tribes, and the Fullness of Kenna Warreid. As Morgatn profusely thanked his host, he knew that he would not leave this New World for many cycles yet.

The Fleet of Five arrived at the shrine’s busy harbour, the seafarers joining thronging mainland pilgrims. Marvelling first at the piles of shells and stones being worked into ZiggerZaags and other tools, then at the singing log cutters. Commenting to Svelka on the similarities with the seamen’s singing, she she smiled “Why yes they have a common origin” More marvels at the woodcarving workshops, the hundreds of images in wood and on animal skins, along several walkways up to the shrine. Where a small circle of rocks had once stood was now a broader oval, timber roofed atop a surprisingly high stone wall. Near the entrance, a group of several massive totems, in the middle of which stood a massive live human, who walked toward Svelke and Morgatn greeting them by name, in the Witten Dialect. “Welcome friends, I am Toraka, descendant of Skandar and Gutenora, Guardian and bearer to the Elders here. They have instructed me to feed your companions by darkfall. Tomorrow I shall row with you to meet our elders at Viskerbij. But for now I will introduce you to our Totems”.

One does not argue with a smile that beams down from an arms length above your head.

To Be Continued.

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Thankyou All for you time, likes, comments and interest, you inspire me to continue. Peace, Maurice…