Blaekerian: An Epic Fantasy Novel (In Progress)

The Medora

Reyloriel walked past the stalls. The market was busy again. I wonder if it's like this everyday.

The suns shone down harshly on the many denizens of Erston. Gnarmocs, Humans and Dhirsa all milled about the stands much the same as they did the last time she was here with Cheruffi.

She hoped he wouldn't be too mad that she had sneaked off. She just couldn't make herself sit there in that stuffy old shop any longer. The three of them all cramped in that place was driving Reyloriel crazy.

Zivar had been the only one to leave the shop in three days leaving Reyloriel and Cheruffi to make their own entertainment. And that had almost fallen entirely on her shoulders, as the big oaf just usually wanted to sit and read. Reyloriel liked to read as well but there was only so much reading you could do in one day.

He also wouldn't tell her what he was reading, "Nothing interesting. Just for the fun of it," he would say. But she snuck a look when he wasn't looking. One was a small red spined volume that read Sirens: Real or Imaginary? Another had a thick worn out cover that read "Mysteries and Fables" with the pages open to a drawing of a demonic looking creature with its mouth opened in a pained howl.

Reyloriel had shivered at that image and closed the book hurriedly. Something about that image had scared her to the core and she didn't want to see that image ever again.

So she planned her escape and went out just as Zivar left in the morning as he usually did. Cheruffi was still asleep on a makeshift bed in a back room of the shop where they had both been staying. She wasn't going to be long, she just needed to be away from those four walls for an hour, maybe two.

There was so much to see out here. She passed one man who was selling meat on a stick that wafted wonderfully seasoned smells in her direction as she passed. Another man, Dhirsa, stood in front of a stall, presumably his, and held out cheap jewels hanging from weaved necklaces. "Only five pieces!" he said. Further down the market, Reyloriel saw one booth where a crowd of kids several years younger than her were talking in excited voices and laughing at some small creatures on display.

They were small things, green in color, with hard backs, four legs with a small head and tiny tail peeking out from under the rock-like back.

The gnarmoc lady who ran the shop stood on the table with the creatures, a height she must not be used to, and was telling the children all about her finds.

"Far away from the distant Island of Elhurra, they are called turt.."

Reyloriel didn't hear the rest because she had wandered further on distracted by the spectacle of what had come into her eyesight.

A huge dock was built on the edge of the ocean. Five ships sat there. They were all in mostly straight formation aligned with the several outcroppings of wood docks.

The market continued all the way to the very waters edge. She wondered if they got a lot of business from those only stopping for a night or two.

Reyloriel saw that there were sailors more frequent in this area. At least she thought they were sailors, judging from the way they all had sleeves and pant legs rolled in the same manner. She put two and two together. Most likely made things easier when dealing with the spray of ocean water.

And the fact that most of the people she had passed in the market had not been dressed this way.

She sighed. She's never seen this many ships before. How do they make them so big? Men and women milled slowly about the decks on two of them while another looked to be a hill of angry insects running wildly about, either coming into port or leaving in a hurry.

Off to the far left was one that caught her eye. It was the only place where the market stall and booths didn't reach the edge of water, making it seem like this ship was being left out of the party. It created a vacant circle around this one that was noticeable.

The ship itself was slightly smaller than the others, probably two thirds the size of the rest docked. Painted black on the outside with silver lines running the various creases and crevices of the hull. The mast was also silver made of a dyed fabric that was rolled up high above. The ship bore a figurehead at the very front that was sculpted into a woman. She had long hair and hands outstretched as if awaiting an embrace.

"The Medora," someone said from behind.

Reyloriel turned and squinted in the daylight.

"The ship's name is the Medora." The stranger said.