Islands in the Sky

6.6

The ship began to turn. It began to move towards the sun.

Relieved, Sema moved with it, walking up to the front of the ship, looking forwards, still trying to see whatever was out there against the light. She went right up to the front of the ship, and stood on the deck there, holding onto a rope that ran from high up on a mast down to the railing in front of her.

She stood there, watching. She was out of everyone’s way, so it was a good place to stand, and she could stare straight ahead, into the sun, and try and see what there. She had one hand up in front of her face, as the captain had done, and that made it a little easier to see. Her eyes still hurt, though, and her vision was still specked with dark spots. She couldn’t see very well, not well at all, but she thought more of the sun was being blocked out than had been earlier, and she thought the amount being blocked was growing larger as she watched.

She glanced around, hoping someone else would be watching nearby, and she could say what she was thinking and let them decide. She’d hoped for that, but no-one else seemed to be looking as carefully as she was. Everyone had jobs to do, she supposed, or, like the woodcutters, were standing where they’d been, keeping out of the way.

Sema was the only one up the front of the ship, looking carefully, and so was the only one seeing this. She looked again, and decided she was sure. The shadow against the sun was getting bigger. It was blocking more of the light.

She took a moment to realize why.

There must be something coming directly towards them.

There was something out there in the sky, and it was big, and close, and it was the wrong shape for a ship. It must be big, Sema thought. To block the sun, to show at all, it must either be big or close.

And the shape it made against the sun was very strange, too.

Sema couldn’t see clearly, but whatever was out there seemed to be the wrong shape for a ship. Most ships looked the same, at least the ones Sema had seen in harbours. They were high and thin, quite narrow and tall when viewed from the front, because they were built in a shape which didn’t catch the wind except against the sails, so they could control how they blew around, and sail across-wise to a wind. That was how all the ships Sema had seen were shaped, a smooth narrow hull, a rounded cylinder that was the ship, and masts and sails at the top. There was a shape that was how ships looked, but what was out there in the sky wasn’t that shape.

It had masts. It was high. But it was also wide and shallow, rather than narrow. It was wider than it was tall, and that was odd. It was the shape of an island, not of a ship.

Sema watched, confused.

Everyone else was running, and shouting, and fetching weapons from cupboards. Everyone else was in a panic except Sema. Sema was the only one just watching.

She watched. She thought.

She took a moment to work it out.

She was right, she thought. Whatever was out there was the shape of an island. A small island, but an island. With masts.

“It’s an island,” she said.

No-one heard her. No-one cared.

The captain was shouting they would meet it head-on, that they would run at it, and fight. That was probably what people did to fight from ships, Sema thought, and she supposed she could see why. Their ship had no archers, and no catapults, so going right up to the other ship and fighting with swords made sense, to avoid everyone on Sema’s ship being picked off from a distance if their enemies did happen to have bows. That made sense when fighting another ship, Sema thought, a ship like their own, which could be damaged, and break apart, and fall from the sky if its hull was cracked enough to release the rocks which made it float.

That made sense when fighting a ship, but this wasn’t a ship, it was an island.

It was made of rock. It couldn’t be broken. It would always float, and was far, far stronger than a ship’s wooden hull.

They were in terrible danger, Sema suddenly realized. She didn’t know exactly how they would be hit, or how easy it would be do to, but she knew, suddenly, the island-ship was going to try and run into them.

She knew, and she felt braver about speaking up now, too.

“It’s an island,” Sema said loudly.

Still, no-one heard.

“It’s an island,” Sema shouted. “We need to move away. It’s an island, not a ship, and they’re going to crash it into us.”

The captain turned and looked at her. “What?”

“It’s not a ship,” Sema said. “It’s an island they’ve put masts on. It’s made of stone, and we’re made of wood. They can crash into us, and wreck us, without risking any damage themselves.”

Then the captain understood too. Then she looked afraid. She began shouting to the crew to steer away, to turn, turn now, for their lives.