Disclaimer: Don’t own it.  Never have, never will.

 

Classification: Adventure/Romance: M&S, F&OC.  Romantic bits slow in coming.

 

Summary:  The crew of the Nomad is forced to go ashore on a mysterious island.  Evil wizards, kidnappings, mysterious strangers abound.  Maybe they should have taken their chances at sea? 

 

DETOUR

By Ucchan

 

            The crew of the Nomad, with its famed and courageous captain, had faced many evils in their months at sea.  They battled wizards, demons, madmen, fierce storms, and on occasion, each other.  They had been shot at, beat up, beat down, taunted, tortured, keelhauled, rocked and rolled.  They had always come out on top, through use of skill, magic, science or sheer desperate effort.  The famed and courageous captain of the Nomad refused to believe they would be cowed by something as mundane as a windless day.  But it was not just one windless day.  It was twenty-two windless days.

            Three weeks.

Three cursed, endless weeks.  And not a breeze in sight.  Twenty-one days ago, the dawn had broken to reveal a bright, clear, surprisingly windless day.  No one had thought much of it.  It was a sailor’s lot in life to be at the mercy of the elements.  Better a windless day than gales and a raging sea. 

As dawn broke on the twenty-second day, Sinbad, Captain of the Nomad stood on the prow of his listless ship, wondering if this day would prove different than the last twenty-one.  It certainly looked the same as every other day.  Sailors lazing about, nothing to do but sit around and lament their misfortune.  That and speculate on how much longer their provisions would last.  A few of the crew remained below decks, probably not wishing to come up and face the reality of another stagnant, windless day.  The Celtic witch, Maeve sat at the bow of ship, poring over a magic text in the relative coolness of the early morning.  The dead air made each warm day into a trial by fire.  Rongar, the silent Moor, stood midship, leaned against the mast, and staring off into the horizon.  Sinbad wondered, not for the first time, what the dark-skinned man was thinking.  Doubar was still below, probably in the galley.  Firouz was holed up, as usual, working on his latest project.  Sinbad almost envied him.  The Nomad’s resident physician seemed to find all the occupation he needed in the playground of his own mind.  Sinbad, on the other hand, was bored into a stupor, and was beginning to get the niggling feeling that this calm was going to prove far more trouble than he had ever expected.

Sinbad sighed.  Most days he reveled in his life as adventurer and captain.  It was a life of freedom and camaraderie with the crew he had come to regard as his extended family.  Other days, however, the responsibility of their welfare weighed heavy on him.  Another week at most, and they could well be out of water.  What would they do then, with no port in sight and the late summer sun blazing overhead?  Suddenly he was gripped by the desire to talk to someone, anyone to distract him from his own brooding.  He strode across the deck to where his sole female crewmember absorbed herself in her studies.  Maeve was always good for taking his mind off things.  She had a sharp wit, which she never hesitated to sharpen against him.  The fact that she was one of the most strikingly attractive women he ever did come across might also be a factor.  He had not talked to her much in the last few days.  She had been quiet and introverted as of late, but he supposed they all were of late, himself included.  Maeve was so absorbed in what she was reading, she didn’t even notice when Sinbad came up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.

“Isn’t that the same book you’ve been studying for the past two weeks?” he asked quietly.

Maeve gave a start.  “Sinbad!  Don’t go sneaking up on people like that!” she snapped.

“Sorry,” he said sincerely.  They were all on edge lately.  He sat down on the crate next to her.  “Well, haven’t you?” he repeated.

She glared at him for a minute and Sinbad thought she was going to make a tart remark.  So his surprise, her irritation deflated and she sighed heavily.  “The last three weeks, actually.”  She closed the heavy text with thump.

Sinbad smiled.  “Must be quite a book.”

“I’m sure it is.  I haven’t been paying much attention to it, actually,” she confessed.

  “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether or not she really wanted to tell him. 

“Maeve?”  Now he was concerned.

“Something doesn’t feel right.”

Sinbad pointed above to the Nomad’s motionless sails.  “No kidding,” he said dryly.

She shook her head.  “No,” she said quietly.  This was not something she wanted the rest of the crew to hear.  They were uneasy enough as it was.  “It’s not just that.  I mean, it started when the winds died, but it’s been getting worse.”

“What has?”

 Maeve glanced around her.  A couple of the crewmen were watching them with interest.  Including Rongar, but she was unconcerned about him.  He had a level head, and would not overreact like some of the other men. 

Sinbad noticed her concern.  It amplified his own.  He rose to his feet.  “The galley,” he stated.  Without waiting for her, he strode below deck.  The only soul in the galley was his older brother, Doubar.  The big man was leaning back in a chair, his hand folded over his belly.  He looked like he was taking a nap.

“Brother,” Doubar greeted him without looking up.  “Let me guess.  Another boiling, dry, windless day?”

“How’d you guess?”

Doubar glanced up at the grimness in Sinbad’s voice.  “What’s wrong?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out.” He gestured to Maeve as she entered the small galley.  They both sat at the table.  Doubar sat up in his chair, his interest roused.

“Ever since the wind stopped,” she began uneasily, “I’ve been feeling a presence.”  She held up her hand when Sinbad tried to interject. “Not here on the ship,” she replied to the unspoken question.  “More like everywhere.  It’s in the air.  I felt it most the night the wind disappeared.  When the feeling didn’t return, I discounted it as my imagination …” she trailed off.

“But it wasn’t,” Sinbad stated.

Maeve shook her head.  “A few days it they started coming back.  It was a small feeling at first.  But it’s been getting worse.”  She hesitated; looking around for a moment, like she was making absolutely sure no one else was around to her.  She leaned towards Sinbad.  “And I’ve been having these dreams.  I think they’re connected to our wind problem.”

Sinbad didn’t like where this was headed.  “What kind of dreams.  Prophetic dreams?”

“I don’t really know.  I can’t remember much about them after I wake.”  She sighed in her frustration.  “I just know they have the same presence that I feel in the air.  The same one I felt the night the wind stopped.  The same one that’s been getting worse for the past week.”

Doubar rose from his seat.  “So this unnatural calm; this thing that’s kept us drifting for going on a month,” he growled, “is magic?”

Maeve nodded grimly.  “Yes.  I don’t see how it could be anything else.  This kind of weather isn’t exactly normal,” she pointed out.

Sinbad groaned inwardly.  Doubar had just put voice to something he hadn’t wanted to contemplate.  If their dire straits were caused by magic, then there was no hope of it, no pun intended, blowing over.  They were being held immobile in the middle of the ocean with rapidly dwindling stores by magic?  “How?  Why?  Who could do this?” he asked angrily.

Maeve flashed a got glance at him, raising her voice “How should I know!” she snapped.  “It’s not like you haven’t made your share of magical enemies!”

Sinbad gestured at her to keep her voice down.  She crossed her arms in a huff and looked away.  Despite her momentary rush, she looked tired, Sinbad realized.  She must not have been sleeping well.  Now he knew why.  He felt a twinge of remorse for jumping on her.  Now was not the time to start in on each other.  He apologized sincerely.

Maeve’s anger disappeared as quickly as it came.  That was her way; quick to anger, but also to forgive.  “I’ve been looking through my books for any references to wind spells.  I haven’t found anything about wind binding spells, let alone how to undo one.  I’ve found some for the harnessing and generating of wind, but I’m just not powerful enough to generate enough to move the Nomad for any distance.”  Her shoulders slumped.  She feared this magic was beyond her skill to combat.

Doubar sat down next to her.  “It’s not your fault, Maeve.”

Sinbad placed a hand over her long, slender one.  “Doubar’s right, Maeve,” he said a comfortingly as he could.  “You always do your best.  We know you’re trying.”  He smiled in an attempt at humor.  “It’s not your fault I’ve pissed off every evil wizard here to Basra.”

Doubar laughed.  “Not to mention their daughters.”

Sinbad raised an eyebrow at that.  “Rumina?  Maeve, could Rumina do this?”

Maeve thought a second.  “She could,” she answered cautiously.  “Rumina’s powerful enough, I think.”  Then she shook her head.  “I don’t think it’s her, though.  This is a little too subtle for Rumina.  She likes her tricks to be a little flashier.  Why would she do it, anyway?  Why would anyone?  What does it serve?”

“Besides leaving us to rot in the middle of the ocean?” Sinbad asked archly.  “Who knows?”  He turned to his brother.  “Doubar, get Firouz and Rongar.  They need to be let in on this.  Maybe Firouz has some bright ideas.”  Sinbad was hoping someone did.  He did not much relish a slow death from dehydration or starvation for his crew or himself.

            Several minutes later, Sinbad, Maeve, Firouz, Rongar and Doubar convened in Firouz’s makeshift workspace.  Amid the clutter of scrolls, parchments, blueprints, trinkets, and dozens of inventions, all in various stages of completion, Sinbad and Maeve imparted to the other crewmen their sad state of affairs.  Rongar took the news as he took most everything, with silent stoicism.  Firouz also took the news as he took most everything; with totally inappropriate enthusiasm.  Once Maeve convinced his logic-rooted mind that they were in all likelihood dealing with magical forces, he found the sublimating of such a powerful natural force as the wind to be a ‘fascinating phenomenon.’

            Doubar was short on patience when it came to what he considered to be Firouz’s nonsensical ramblings.  “And by fascinating, I’m sure you mean horrible,” Doubar interjected testily.  “Seeing as how we’re probably going to dry up and starve out here in the middle of the sea.”

            Firouz replied absentmindedly, “Yes, of course.”  Sinbad could practically see the scientist’s mind going off in five directions at once.  Sometimes he honestly wondered about that man.

            “Firouz,” Sinbad prompted, “What about your wind machine?  Are you sure it won’t do us any good?”  This possibility had been brought up before, sometime during their second week of aimless drifting.

            Firouz smiled apologetically.  “Quite sure,” he replied.  “The amount of wind it could generate would be negligible when compared to the amount we would need to propel something the size of the Nomad.” the curly-haired main thought for a moment.  “At least as it is,” he added. 

            “As what is?” Sinbad prompted, feeling like he was pulling teeth.

            “My wind machine,” Firouz continued.  The gears of his mind were turning.  “With some modifications, I might be able to generate more … it may still not be enough, though.”

            “Do it, Firouz.  We’re running out of time here.  Anything’s worth a try.”  He turned to Maeve, placing a hand on her shoulder.  Maeve, you said you had some wind spells.  If we add your spells to Firouz’s wind machine, do you think we might have enough to get us moving?”

            Maeve looked heartened.  “Maybe,” she said hopefully.  “I’ll gather all my wind spells and see what I can come up with.  Together we might be able to get somewhere.”

            Sinbad smiled encouragingly to his crew.  “Good.  I’ll look over our maps and see where the nearest landfall should be.  I’ll take any port at this point.  Doubar, Rongar, go above and try to placate the crew.  They know something’s up, I’ve heard them talking.  Distract them, do whatever you have to.  Hopefully we’ll be out of this mess soon.” 

His crew indicated their approval and hurried to their respective tasks.  Firouz began amending the designs for his wind machines, Maeve went back to her spells, and Doubar and Rongar went above.  ‘That’s better,’ Sinbad thought with something akin to satisfaction.  Things were moving forward.  Figuratively speaking, at least.  With any luck, they would soon get the Nomad moving for real.

 

To be continued ….

 

Short, wasn’t it?  Just testing the waters (and my formatting) with this first chapter, folks.  I’ve got more right here in my hot little hard drive.  Please review if you would like to see it.  Feedback is the only way writers have to know if we are on the right track or not!

Go to Chapter 2