Chapter 7

Banished from Brightcrest's quarters, Erin found herself with little to do. Most of her work had been spent either in or around the gryphon's quarters beneath the foredeck, and since Geoffrey ordered her to stay as far from there as possible, there was no work to be done.

As the storm passed, she spent most of her time on deck, helping her new friends amongst the crew. They accepted her without reservation, showing her the ropes and welcoming her among their ranks.

On the second day after the storm, she was working with Old Man Uric, coiling endless lengths or ropes. The course material was rough on her hands, and despite the years of working hard manual jobs, she was developing fresh calluses.

"Why do they call you that?" she asked, setting aside a length of rope.

"Call me what?"

"Old Man Uric," she said. "Never just, Uric."

It was something that had been nagging at her for some time and she felt that now was as good a time as any to ask. The old sailor didn't seem offended by the question and just grinned in reply.

"T'is my name."

"Old Man Uric is your actual name?"

"Aye, lass."

"That makes no sense."

His laughter was loud and warm, and made her feel included in the joke. She'd noticed that about him, she never felt that he was laughing at her, no matter the questions she asked.

"When I was a wee lad," he said, reaching for a fresh length of rope. "My da died of the black lung. Well, I was the eldest lad and had a whole gaggle of younger brothers and sisters that needed looking after while my ma was taken abed with her grief."

"So, I did what I had to do." He coiled the rope, length after length, the movement of his hands almost hypnotic to the young gryphon handler. "Well, taking care of the young'uns was no fun, and I was a dour little lad, walking around with a frown permanent on me brow."

"The people at home, they said, 'ee's like an old man, ee is."'

Erin giggled at the voice he put on, that of an older lady gossiping about a neighbour. It was the tone she recognised instantly from the old biddies back home.

"Well, so I was," Old Man Uric continued. "So, that's what they began to call me and soon enough, none remembered any name but that."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Nay, lass. It's my name, and I earned it with hard graft. And me ma, she got better in time, because I gave her that space she needed to grieve." His gaze was distant as he thought back to his youth, a smile playing on his lips. "Nay, lass. I'm proud to be, Old Man Uric."

Erin smiled back at him. It was clear that he meant every word of it and any thought she might have had of shortening his name, even just in her own head, was gone.

"Now, lass," he said, lifting his chin. "Time for you to climb that there rigging."

Following his direction, her mouth fell open as she stared up at the weblike rope rigging that led from the ships rail to the heavy cross spar almost at the top of the mainmast. Though the wind had lessened, it was still strong, and she had no desire to be blown to her death.

"What!"

"Go on," he urged. "Get yerself up there and tell me what you see."

"I'll fall."

"Mayhap you will," he agreed. "But you've ridden a gryphon and not fallen. Methinks you'll have less trouble clinging to a rope as you did to that beast."

Swallowing back the fear she felt stuck in her throat, Erin laid aside the rope and glanced at the rigging then back at Old Man Uric. She wondered if this was a prank, some mean joke on her that they had been building to and that they wanted to see her fall.

But no! she thought, they wouldn't do that.

At least she hoped they wouldn't.

Making a little shooing gesture with his hands, Old Man Uric bade her hurry. Her tongue darted out, wetting suddenly dry lips as she crossed to the rigging.

The rope was as thick around as her wrist, and when she gave it an experimental tug, it felt firm beneath her grip. With a heavy sigh, and cursing herself for ten kinds of fool, she swung herself up onto the lowest part of the rigging and began to climb.

Wind pulled at her clothes and her hair whipped at her face. Her breath came in gasps as she pulled herself slowly up, clinging to the ropes as though her life depended upon it. Which, she thought ruefully as she looked down at the deck a dozen feet below, it likely did.

She climbed higher, the wind causing the rigging to sway and she pressed her face in the gap between the rope as she paused to calm her fear. Below her, on the deck, Old Man Uric had stopped his work and was watching her carefully.

He seemed ready to leap across the deck should she fall, which both terrified her and also reassured her somewhat. More sailors had come onto the deck and were congregating by the starboard rail, and to her surprise, the surly wizard stood on the stern deck, hands buried in the pockets of his robes and hood raised, as he stared balefully over the rail.

The sun was dipping towards the horizon and to her continued dismay, a light rain began to fall, growing heavier with each foot of rigging she managed to climb.

With arms and legs trembling from the strain and nerves, she reached the top and she clung on like a spider to its web. Hughe, one of the sailors she'd shared a table with, looked down through the open hatch of the crow's nest.

"C'mon, lass. Almost made it." He grinned and offered a hand which she reached up and grabbed. His grip was tight, and he practically yanked her arm from its socket as he pulled her up into the crow's nest.

Erin sat with her back pressed against the wooden slats that formed the sides and breathed deeply. It wasn't a fear of heights that had her heart racing, it was the idea that she was utterly vulnerable to the winds and weather.

She wiped a hand down her face, brushing away the rainwater as she frowned. Looking down through the hatch, Old Man Uric was still watching and she lifted her hands to the sides, gesturing as if to ask, 'what now?'

The old sailor jabbed his arm out towards the starboard rail, a grin splitting his face, and with a grimace, Erin grabbed the edge of the crow's nest side and pulled herself up.

"What in the nine hells am I supposed to… oh!"

The first thing she saw was the jagged peaks of a mountain range rising from the western edge like the spine of some great ancient beast, their rocky slopes catching the last dying rays of the sun as it set.

Beyond the mountains, the land rolled out into a vast forest-deep and old, the treetops forming an emerald canopy that stretched across the island's heart. Valleys and low hills rippled through the woodland, their contours hinting at hidden secrets beneath the boughs.

To the east, the land grew rugged again, where weathered hills and rocky cliffs stood against the void, marking the island's furthest reach.

But it was the southern shore that drew her eye, where a colony clung to the land's edge. Wooden buildings with fresh-hewn beams stood defiantly against the wind and rain, and fields of growing crops spread outward, a promise of growth carved from the wilderness.

Smoke curled from chimneys, the windows aglow with orange light, offering warmth and comfort, as settlers went about their evenings business despite the rain. A palisade was half-finished, standing tall against the dangers of the untamed lands.

"Amazing," Erin breathed, laughing. She understood then why the old sailor had sent her aloft, so she could see the island before even those clustered at the starboard rail.

"We're too high," Hughe said, frown forming. He reached for a brass tube fixed to the side of the mast and placed his mouth close to the opening as he shouted into it. "Too high! Descend! Thirty fathoms. I repeat, thirty fathoms!"

Erin gaped at him. "What does that mean?"

He waved her to silence and then repeated the message before pressing his ear to the tube and listening for a response. When it came, he nodded and turned back to grip the crow's nest wall as he leaned over heedless of the pull of the wind.

"Too high," he repeated. "We'll miss the dock."

Looking at the island, Erin could see what he meant. If they followed on as expected, they would come in above the town rather than sliding in besides the wooden dock that extended out over the island's edge.

"What does that matter?"

"The island's pull!" Hughe said, clearly agitated. "We'll need to adjust against the pull of the island as we pass over it and doing that is hard enough without the crosswinds at the Edge!"

While she didn't understand it enough to really know what that would mean, she could see the almost panic on his face and hear it in his voice and that caused her heart to race. Looking down at the deck below, the other sailors had also realised, and they were running this way and that to attend their stations.

The wizard, too, was running, heading below decks though why she had no idea but could only hope it was to try and help.

In the distance, the crack of a musket being fired had her craning her neck. It was followed by more shots, and she strained to see what was happening. Towards the gap in the palisade, there was a flurry of activity though it was too far away for her to make out details.

Whatever it was, it had people in a tizzy.

"Get below!" Hughe snapped, jabbing a finger at the hatch. "Below decks, while you can."

His fear was infectious, and she moved fast, slipping down through the hatch and gripping the rope rigging. She moved quickly, her thoughts not on the wind or the rain, or even the possibility of a fall and death.

She thought of Brightcrest.

If the ship was in danger, then so was he and he would be trapped in his quarters, unable to do anything to save himself. Better that he be loosed so that he could fly free and be safe.

Erin reached the deck as the ship came alongside the island's edge. Her stomach lurched as the floor seemed to drop out beneath her and her knees buckled. She hit the deck hard, reached out to steady herself-then the world went askew.

She slid across the deck, a heavy and fierce wind almost capsizing the ship as it dropped too fast, shedding weight as the ship's engine was forced to suddenly stop the descent, and instead reduce the ship's weight to stop it from crashing into the colony.

The breath was forced from her lungs as she hit the starboard railings and she lay there, eyes wide with fear as a dozen heavy coils of rope that she had been piling up just a short while ago, came hurtling towards her.

They hit her with more force than she felt was possible, crushing her back against the rail and then the weight lifted as those ropes were thrown up and over the railing to crash down to the mud choked streets below.

Gasping for breath she gripped the rail with all her might, every ounce of willpower going into holding herself in place.

The hull groaned, and wood splintered, the sudden shifting of forces too much as the winds buffeted the ship. Something cracked, the sound cutting through all other noise, and the foremast toppled over the side, smashing through the roof of a house below.

An eagles cry ripped through the night and Erin's eyes went to the gryphon's quarters, the cry becoming a squeal of pain and distress.

Hughe fell screaming from the crow's nest, arms windmilling as he went down. His cry cut off suddenly and tears sprang unbidden to Erin's eyes.

Then the ship began to right itself, a mighty groan coming from the hull. Wood splintered and cracked; nails torn free as the ship twisted unnaturally. Smoke was rising from belowdecks, and panicked men were crying out for help.

Pushing herself up, heedless of the pain of her protesting body, Erin scrambled for the gryphon's quarters with one goal in mind.

To save Brightcrest.