Chapter 5

The sun arose out of the ocean like a great fiery serpent to begin its trek across the cloudy sky. Daylight was a welcomed gift as the sailors loaded supplies and rowed them out to the ship anchored in the harbor. A cold morning wind caused the ships flag to snap to life and the sailors adjusted their collars to keep the chill out.
On the beach, an enormous black dog chased the tide and played in the surf. At the edge of the beach, bare feet dangled from the shroud of a tree. Oshiah dropped onto the sand without a sound and crouched low. His breath slow and shallow as his pink eyes focused out to sea.
The great black dog, Dante, suddenly turns and runs up the beach, barreling full tilt toward the tree where Oshiah spent the night. As he neared, Oshiah lept up from the ground in an all out run toward the war dog bearing down on him. A gutteral growl arose from both of them as they closed. At the last possible moment, Oshiah dropped to the ground and slid in the sand as the dog bounded over him.
They both recovered quickly and then grappled each other in mock combat. The dogs great jowels locked onto the bare skin on Oshiahs right arm. Oshiah slipped from under the dog and clutched it around the neck with his free arm. The dog rolled right, throwing the pale-skinned man to the ground and then pounced onto him locking his massive teeth onto the neck of the nomad and growling a low rumble. Oshiahs outstretched hand raised quickly and patted the dog on the side twice and the dog let up. Oshiah back-rolled to his feet and laughed as he began wiping the sandy drool from his neck.
“Good job Dante. Very good job. Always use your oppenents weight against them. And always finish them. A foe left living is a failure waiting to find you again.” Dantes ears perked and Oshiah turned to see two men walking down from the small manor overlooking the beach. Following behind them are six more men hauling crates and trunks. He recognizes both of the lead men as the two men he sat across from for most of the night. They drank expensive Elvish wine and Gnomish cordials while telling tales of their grand adventures. Although he’d been travelling with Wilgar for some time, he knew the bond the Cleric had with Cirox-Thong had existed for much longer.
The two men wore thick cloaks to protect them from the icy bite of the morning wind. Oshiah retreated to his tree and pulled down his pack and began to dress. The other two stood upon the beach watching the sun rise from behind the wooden ship in the distance. Wilgar was the first to break the silence of the moment. “So, tell me again, Cirox, how you know this Captain Goras and why you trust him.” Cirox pondered the question for a moment before he replied. “Come now Wilgar, you know I’d never put you in the hands of someone if I thought they might betray you.” Wilgar only nodded in response. “In any case, I shall seek guidance from Titane before we set upon this journey. Too many powers align against us already.”
Cirox gestured to a point barely visible in this light along the beach “There is a flattened mound that may serve your purpose. I remember your communes to be quite… vigorous.” “That they are, but how else would one gain the attention of a war god? Would you care to join me?” Cirox smiled, “I’ll pass. If Titane will grant you insight to the safety of this journey, then I needn’t exert myself. Besides, I must meet with Goras to insure things are progressing as they should be.” Wilgar turned and called over his shoulder “Oshiah, I’m heading to that mound over there to commune with Titane and then we’ll be under way.” Sheathing his scimitar, Oshiah ran over to Wilgar followed by a bounding Dante. “Well, you speak with your god then. Tell him I said hi.” Oshiah smiled. Wilgar didn’t. “You need not worry Wilgar, I fear not the sea.” Oshiah said as he knelt to secure Dantes armor about him.
Standing high upon the mound, Wilgar swirled his mace above his head. His feet shifted as he moved in a rythmic pattern as if fighting multiple attackers to the beat of a drum. The intensity increased as his swings smashed through their invisible foes and his breathing hastened. Divine words spilled from his lips as sweat dripped from his brow. As his ritual came to an end, Wilgar dropped to his knees and closed his eyes.
Breakfast was served upon the bridge of the Wavecutter. At the head of the table sat Captain Goras, a veteran seagoer and shrewd merchantier. At the opposite end, Cirox-Thong sat, his magnificent hair dancing in the wind. To each side, the officers of Wavecutter sat quietly waiting for the Captains nod. Oshiah and Wilgar sat to either side of Cirox, also waiting patiently. “To a magnificent journey” the Captain announced as he stood, lifting his cup in the air. The others raised their tankards and shouted, almost in unison, “to the journey!”
The rest of the trip was quick and uneventful. The wind seemed to carry the Wavecutter to its destination. Even the captain was amazed at how easy the journey was. “See?” Oshiah commented, “nothing to fear from the sea.” Wilgar replied, “We’ve not yet set foot upon the shore, but it does seem we’ve had a fortunate voyage.”