White Sea

Five years of light, then home again, that's all it was.  Voyages like that don't tend to be the greatest fun a crew can have, but every half-decade one of the great island-ships of Kakrecoon sets out from port in the tropical bay the city-state calls home to venture the two-thousand mile journey to relieve the last ship stationed at the top of the world, that desolate sea barren of all life but the ships that weigh anchor there.  Nothing in the line of storms to rock the boats, nor any change in the light that beams down, taunting the sailors.

To have served at the top of the world is said to be an honor, a privilege, and some of the fanatics who come from Kakrecoon truly believe it.  A few less each voyage back, but the church has persisted for generation upon generation.  The long ivory bones that serve as scaffolding for the great cathedral in Kakrecoon came from somewhere, came on that prophet's boat so long ago.

Keil Kinsblood heard the tales beforehand, knew a few men never came back from the voyage, but it was only a handful out of the hundreds needed to man one of the island-ships, nothing out of the ordinary for a nautical voyage.  He signed up for the pay, which was descent, and the prestige around town.  All the important men in the city had served there, and all the men who came back had a hard glint in their eyes that the city noticed.  If he ever wanted to set up a permanent shop in the bazaar, he needed to make this trip.  He needed the eighteen hundred days of cold sunlight, the chill of the calm water, the days of boredom.

Even if the days passed uneventfully, there was still the glimmer of hope that the god-egg would hatch deep down beneath the waves, barely visible even through the clear waters that filled that patch of sea.  It must be gigantic, sitting so far down yet visible.  A few dissenters said it was naught but a giant rock from all they could tell.

Still, the next day the ship would reach that empty sea, join up with the vessel that sat there, waiting, and take it's turn.  The crystal lady made good time for one of the island-ships.  Keil was still getting used to the lack of night though, so if he wanted to see it rise above the horizon, he needed to get to sleep, somehow.

The flotsam and jetsam that lay in the water the next day signaled a new period of life for the whole seacoast as much as it did for Kiel, but for now he slept with troubled dreams.  Dreams of a giant red sea-beast descending upon his small rowboat, alone with nothing but a silver harpoon to defend himself.