Ian's Quest

The dawn was cloudy on the eastern shores of the new land. Ian looked through his glass and saw a boat at anchor: a larger ship than his, with white sails and flying no ensign to identify itself. His first mate, Kimodo, scratched his scruffy beard and spat. "Don't like it, cap. Looks like some sort of pirate to me."

"Aye," Ian replied. "We'll make that assumption until something else is proven. But we don't know its armament, and it can put up more sail than we can. Probably a larger crew as well, we'd be outnumbered. Looks like it wouldn't maneuver well, so if we try to out sail her, it should be against the wind. We'd probably win a tacking duel."

"Aye, cap." Kimodo replied. "How do you want to play this?"

Ian scratched his beard and thought. "Let's heave to and see what happens. We've sailed off the maps on this continent, so we have no idea what these waters close to shore are like. The wind's from the southwest, away from shore, so if we have to run we can stay ahead of her until dark. Might not be a pirate for all we know, so let's sit still and wait. There's no port near here, or village on the coast, so they must be away from their base as well. It they don't make any kind of signal or send a launch over, let's consider sending our launch after midday."

"Aye, cap, makes sense to me. Do you want me to call 'all hands'?"

"No. Not until we see a hostile move, or we send a launch. Let the guys off duty rest for now. We'll keep a sharp eye out, and our boys can rally quickly."

"Well said, cap. I'll take a nap myself since we're doing nothing."

"Good. Go below."

Kimodo saluted and left. He was a middle aged man, relatively short, with weathered skin and slanting eyes common of the people of the Far Continent. He'd signed on with Ian's boat three years earlier, and rose through the ranks to second in command. Ian trusted him with his life. His journey in foreign waters had taught him much, and his crew had developed well as Ian learned the ways of leadership. They made most of the living catching pirates, and prospered from the cargoes they'd recovered. They'd gone up to the cold North and down below the equator, but the maps they'd acquired stopped at the Southern mid latitudes. A rumor lead Ian there: the Pearl of Oncona was said to be off the southern end of the map.

The stranger was sitting at anchor, nothing stirred on deck. A deckhand brought Ian a plate of stew, and he ate it pensively, wondering what was going on. They were far away from any port he knew; most ships would try to make contact, to get the recent news if nothing else.

A melody floated across the water to him, a minor tune that was haunting and unforgettable, but the other men on deck stopped everything to listen to it. Ian reached out through Kadosh, and after a short time, made contact with his grandfather Eliezer.

"I see you, my grandchild, but you are at the boundary of my perception. What would you know?"

"I would know of this coast and the inhabitants of this area. A song came across the waters that distracted my crew"

"Nothing I have heard, it is beyond the stories I've heard. There are tales of sirens, singers who can enthrall the unaware, but they exist in the legends of our side of the ocean as well. If your men can stop their ears, they will be unaffected by the song. If you can't, then remember who you are and what your quest is, these are things that can undo any siren's song."

"What of ships who fly no pennants and seem to have no crews?"

"I cannot tell you. Be careful, but you know that already. Caution is the best course, unless you want to leave now."

"No. There could be another explanation, and I need to allow for that."

"Good lad. Patience is a virtue. Fare well."

The morning passed with little action. Ian had learned how to be a good captain, knowing when to push his crew and when to let up. His pilots guided him well, and he learned the ways of commanding men without cruelty. Everyone in the last port they visited, Fingot of the Alarim, warned him about the southern waters, but eager for maps and reports of the area. Rarely did a ship from there venture this far.

After midday, there was a stirring on deck, but no aggressive action, so Ian sent Kimodo across in a launch with eight of his crew. He called the rest to duty, standing ready to sail, fight or move closer at a moment's notice.

Kimodo shouted through a speaking trumpet at them, with no response. More figures appeared on deck, climbing into the rigging to set the sails. Ian waited with his hand on the wheel, looking through his glass eagerly. His launch about twenty feet off the bow of the stranger, still trying to talk, but coming no closer without a reply.

Then, the boom of thunder came from the side of the boat, and the launch was splintered. All went into the water as their craft disintegrated, although Kimodo seemed to be felled with a blow to the chest.

"Canone! Canone!" his second mate Wilbling shouted. "They have canone, they can fire large metal balls at us to cripple our ship! I've heard of this, there is no answer by speed and distance."

Jurividico, the third mate, looked up at Ian. "We need to help them! They're in trouble!"

"We're out weaponed," Ian shouted back. "We have nothing to strike them from a distance. First, we get out of here. They're close enough to shore, we must trust them to swim to safety. Raise sails, course South West tack!"

"Aye, aye," they responded and in a minute sails were set. The large ship got underway quickly, quicker than Ian through they would, but their headway against the wind wasn't greater. When they turned in the wind for the starboard tack, the other ship fired a volley at them that landed well short. At the port tack, it was clear Ian was right, and they were able to switch directions quicker than their adversary. Another volley came across the waters, falling shorter. After the next tack, there was no more hostile fire.

Ian watched the progress closely, putting more distance between himself and his adversary, but the men on the other deck seemed to be moving at half speed. A few wisps of sounds reached his ears, but didn't affect him; a couple of the crew heard and stood transfixed, but a quick command brought them back to attention.

Through the day, Ian put space between him and his opponent, and he let his crew take the evening meal in shifts since they seemed to be making good distance. A mate brought a plate of stew up to him at the wheel, and he pondered his next move.

Kadosh came to his hand, and he detected magic he'd never seen before. It didn't feel like battle magic: his crew encountered that many times in their cruise through alien waters, and it wasn't protection, either. He decided he could take the other ship with good maneuvering and a well timed attack, but he would need to wait until dusk to try it.

In the last hour of daylight, he brought his ship in a large circle, moving between his enemy and its home coast. No more volleys rang out from their canone, the captain was sharp enough to realize the angle was wrong for bombardment, and Ian stayed out of the range he's witnessed earlier. Kadosh became a great bow, and he called for his quiver. "Prepare for boarding," he ordered his crew, "we can take them if we time it right. When you go in, go in hard and don't stop."

As the other ship grew closer, they were able to turn enough to shoot, and a round tore through wood, rigging and sail alike. Ian started to doubt himself, since his ship was crippled badly by the one round of fire, but no one seemed to be hurt and all were ready to board. When Ian came in range, he felled the other captain with one shot, but the other crew returned fire with smaller versions of the canone, and Ian knew he'd have to take the ship by hand to hand combat.

Finally, his starboard bow came into contact with the stern of the enemy ship and he ordered the attack. His crew was experienced in boarding operations, having subdued many pirate ships over time, and once they boarded the conflict was over quickly. But none of the other crew surrendered; they fought until they were cut down.

The sun was down over the horizon when they cleared the opposing deck of their adversaries, who fought slowly and without energy. They seemed like zombies, and were cut down easily. Ian's ship drifted across the opponent's bow and another blast from the canone crippled it badly. His crew stormed below decks and reported shortly all below were dead, but his ship was sinking and Ian had to order it's abandonment. They barely got their supplies across before they had to cut it loose to sink forever beneath the waves.

Looking around the new ship, Ian found no stores of food and drink, only lockers for ammunition and powder. "We have everything we need to learn these new weapons," Wilbling said. "I know a little, and after a few drills, we should be able to sail this tub. We may need the new weapons as we move south."

Ian looked through the captain's quarters, and found no new maps or other documents detailing the ship's story or past voyages. No logs existed; nothing indicated where it was built or launched. "It's strange," Jurividico said, "There's no history of this boat."

"Let's go back and see if we can find our mates," Ian said. "The survivors must have made it to the coast, and be waiting for us there. We can't let them spend any more time than necessary exposed."

"Aye, aye, sir," his mates responded, and when the moon rose, they sailed back, waiting until daylight to search for their lost mates.

The morning broke over the strange coast with ripples of harmony coming across the water. Ian gripped Kadosh hard, but there were no indications his enemies from his homeland were active in this land. The crew were all on deck, their nerves on edge, and several strained to hear the song floating over the waves toward them.

The ocean surface rippled, and a woman came over the rail. She was average height, with pure white skin, a diaphanous shift clinging to her wet body, bald, with eyes that held only a pupil, no iris, giving them a strange appearance. They were a little taller than usual, and as they boarded, they sang a song of such incomparable beauty, the men stopped to listen, going rigid.

Ian could still move, and tried to intimidate the boarders with Kadosh, but they danced away from his strokes, laughing and singing at him more intensely. His crew tried to resist with their short swords and daggers, but one by one they gave up, threw their weapons down, and succumbed to the sirens. Seven came over the rail, and they had seven sailors flat on their backs, riding them until they were spent, then overcoming another crewman to seduce them.

Two were trying to entice Ian, but he resisted. "I am Ian, and I would set the world Right," he said time and time again, and he was able to hold them at bay. Soon he was the only one left standing and all the women were singing at him, holding out their arms to lure him into their embrace, but he stood firm, swinging Kadosh to keep them at a distance. For a few moments, it was a standoff, the waves of haunting melody wafting into his ears, but he did not submit to their song.

Then She came over the rail, floating over as if she had wings. Her body and her shift were pure white, and her head was creased by a finger length swath of blue hair that started from her forehead and flowed straight back to her neck. Her song was different: sweeter, sadder, full of joy and woe, lilting and profound, light as the air and solid as granite. Ian held his staff directly out in front of him, but his arms would no longer move it, and she walked up to him to claim him with a kiss on the cheek.

"I am Ian, and I would set the world Right," he chanted time and time again as he lost control of his body. The blue-haired siren didn't try to force him down; she lay on her back and her song drew him downward until he pulled out his cock and thrust it deep inside her in a single stroke. Making love was like riding a tornado, a cascade of water, a swirling vortex of passion and intoxication. Ian kept up his mantra, and she dug her fingernails into his back, trying to break his concentration and force him to submit completely to the emotions and passions running through his body. Time seemed to stop and all there was, was a thrusting, a piston cranking madly, a drive to push himself deeper, deeper into her body as if he wanted the end of his cock to emerge from her mouth.

The moment of climax arrived, and still he screamed his mantra, clinging to his last bit of sanity as his body discharged its flood of passion into the siren's body. Her song stopped, and her mouth moved soundlessly for several moments, lost in her own bliss and her body's reaction to his violation of her.

Ian stood up, and the sirens looked at him strangely. A tentative melody questioned him, but only received silence for an answer. The blue-haired siren lay on the deck, sated, for what seemed like an eternity, her mouth moving convulsively and the fingers of her left hand quivering.

At last, she bounced to her feet and looked at him. "So, you take me and do not submit to my song? What kind of magic saves you? I have taken many magicians in my time, but yours is the first magic I could not overcome."

"I've said who I am and what my quest is. That's all I can say, I do not know what other magic you may have faced over the years."

She put her palm to the side of his head and looked deeply into his eyes. "Ah, yes, I see now. I knew you would come some day. There is nothing I can do to aid your quest, no power I can grant you. The Pearl of Oncona you seek is south of here, a day's sail away, guarded by a demon of fire. But I sense he will be no problem for you. When you have gained it, you may sail back to your homeland and continue your quest."

"What about my crew?"

"There is nothing you can do for them. They are our thralls, and will stay that way even if we are destroyed. You must leave them."

"But..."

'This is life: there are successes and there are failures. You regret losing them, and that is no evil. The best way you can honor their loss is learn from it."

He shook his head, and the blue-haired siren looked at him, her eyes sad. "I can give you a small boat, a one man vessel, to return to the port of Fingot, where you can find a new ship and a new crew. Your experience will show you how to make it to your destination without this happening again. We remain as we always have and always will."

"Can you help me if I summon you?"

"No. Unlike the Goat King, and the rulers of the Far coast you've dealt with, there is no way we can cross the ocean to assist you in your Last Battle. Learn what we have taught you, and that will be our contribution. Whether you win or lose, our fate is to be here, until the world is broken."

Night had fallen, and the blue-haired siren took him to a small boat with a sail. The southwest wind was still blowing, and it took him around the northern headland and back to Fingot at dusk of the next day.

Ian had built a reputation as a captain on the Far Coast, and a new crew signed with him by noon the next day. A merchant was happy to loan him a ship, provided he returned with a cargo, for a new voyage. After two days getting used to the new vessel and training the crew, Ian was ready to head out. He was cautious, sailing trade routes north on the the Far Continent to build up his operation, his hoard, and buy his boat from its owner. His crew was good for the most part, and after two years he was ready to sail around siren infested waters in search of treasure.

The lesson of the sirens was easy: Ian was able to reconstruct the coast he'd seen and use the stars to steer wide of it until he was below that latitude before heading coastward again. The city of Chantrice allowed him to dock and he was able to fill his hold easily from the money its owner advanced him for trade. The cave was a hidden one, a hour's sail south, and Ian insisted on entering alone as night fell.

The demon wasn't happy to see him. When he breathed fire and found it was no use, his spirits sank and Ian subdued him easily. The Pearl of Oncona was behind a lava pit.

The crew stayed on for more voyages, and it was three years before Ian earned enough to buy the boat for his journey across the ocean. They stayed with him for the crossing, eager for new adventure, and it was the beginning of summer when he returned to his home port of Cashawm. They trip made a huge profit, and after depositing his wealth with trusted bankers, he sold his ship to a trader eager to cross the ocean on a regular basis. The crew wanted to return home, tiring of new lands quickly.

When he returned, he purchased yet another boat and hired another crew, sailing the trade routes south to hear new stories about the Deathless Emperor and his mother, Lady Melanthalia. However in the journeys of the next three years, he was always a little sad, for all he could think about where the men who left there, never to return, and those who threw their lot in with him, willing to give their lives in his service, and would spend the rest of their days as mindless slaves of the sirens.