The Ice Ship

There are legends whispered among sailors. Some involve gigantic beasts that dwell deep in the heart of the ocean, others mystical maidens who tempt the unwary to watery graves. One thing they all seem to have in common is their allure. Great riches wait those who can claim the prize of these myths.

I had never heard the story of the Lost Ice Ship of Nascia before first trading stories with a minstrel in North Bay. Then again, I had never heard of the Great Nation of Nascia outside of ancient history books either. On that chilly summer night, however, I began to wonder. After all, the Johnny Peacock I knew was never one to back down from a challenge. Nor one to walk away from the promise of reward…

It was a desire to put the Black Irony through her paces, perhaps. Or maybe a spur of the moment pleasure cruise. In truth, no one knows why Captain Johnny Peacock decided to chart his course through the northernmost reaches of the reefs. Everyone knew there was nothing beyond the reef. Yet beyond the reef he was, and cinching his coat a little tighter against the wind, waiting. Searching.

He stood upon the deck, watching the dark waters churn beneath the hull. A pensive look stole across his face that caused fear in some and curiosity in others. Having much on his mind was nothing new, but the growing fog around them was. The early evening light was quickly giving way to twilight, and the incoming shroud would only limit their visibility all the more.

“Reef sails and button up for the night, Kait,” he said to his first mate. “I don’t think we’ll be making much headway until this clears.”

She spun on her heel, ready to spring the crew into action.

“Wait!” he suddenly shouted. She quickly returned to his side, a calm, but questioning look on her face. “There.”

He pointed into the mist. A pale shape faded in and out, just at the edge of their vision.

“A whale, sir?” Kait asked.

He shook his head. “No, it was too tall for that. I think it was a ship.”

For several long, still minutes, they watched, waiting for the shape to either solidify into something or vanish completely.

Someone handed him a spyglass, which he used to scan the banks of dense fog.

“Port beam!” someone called. John ran to the sailor, watching where the young man pointed. “I think it’s a…a ship, Captain. Though there should be no ship this far north.”

“Nonsense, lad. We’re here, aren’t we?”

Captain Peacock watched. Slowly a lighter gray mass became darker, denser, more solid. More clear. The outline of a hull. The square and unmistakable shape of sails.

It was a ship.

A white ship.

They called to the Eagle atop the mast, looking for confirmation of the sighting. And waited.

It was as if the entire company held its breath. Soon the call came, and indeed it was, a ship on the horizon.

A white ship.

Had sailor living ever seen a white ship before? Such a thing was surely unnatural, no tree or grass grew in such a pale hue–so white and tinged with blue as to look almost… frozen.

Murmurs spread through the nearby crew as the ship drew nearer. The sails fluttered unnaturally in the wind, luffing in an unseen and unfelt breeze. Icicles clung to masts and dangled from the yards. Every rope was coated in silvery rime. The very hull itself seemed to be carved from ice. There was no mistake.

“Nasci…” he whispered.

“No!” someone nearby breathed out in disbelief. “It couldn’t be.”

A slow smile crept across his face and he raised a hand to rake slowly through his beard. This was fate. The god truly smiling on his journey today. “Belay that order, Kait. We’re going hunting.”

“Sir?” she asked, a tinge of uncertainty in her naturally implacable voice. “Are you… sure?”

As if sensing his determination, a wave of terrified certainty washed over the crew.

“Do you know the legend of Nasci Everlost?” Johnny Peacock asked conversationally. He turned with a flair and stood straighter. “It is said that long before the world cooled, and the North was sealed away behind it’s wall of ice, the great nation of Nascia ruled these waters. In fact, all the waters of the Mervast, and the lands of Arret, too. They controlled great ships. Fleets of ships powered by magics never seen in the world since. Ships that passed through the reefs as is they were sea foam, parting the very land to make way for their passing.

“The riches they amassed were far beyond any comprehension. What need they of wealth when they controlled the land, sea, and the air, too? When the fledgling Empire of Epirsa began to arise in the south, Nascia built more ships. Massive ships for war. Sleek and fast ships for spying. And merchant ships to move their riches.

“When the Empire invaded, seeking these treasures for themselves, the hubris of Nascia proved their undoing. Their warships fell and their merchantmen were taken. Knowing the Epirsans had no way to cross the vast expanse of the Uncharted, the only thing left for them was to flee into the west, where they could start anew.

“And so they built great treasure ships, the largest fleet ever seen, filled to the brim with every kind of wealth imaginable. And the greatest of all these, was Nasci herself. The Great Treasure Ship of the Northern Reaches.”

He paused and took a drink from his flask, slowly scanning the enraptured crew.

“When the fleet left the bay, Eprisa was waiting. And although the Nascian’s had greater power, the Empire out numbered them. Every ship was lost to the waves or taken by the worshippers of the Sun. All that is, except for Nasci. One by one the other ships were destroyed until finally only Nasci was left, and as the armada closed in, the treasure ship took flight, parting the waters and land in its path. The greatest of all ships disappeared even as Epirsa looked on, unable to follow.

“The ages past, and the world grew colder. Epirsa rose up to claim the world. Yet the North, and all it’s riches were lost to the world. And somewhere, out there in the mist, Nasci remained. Frozen by ice, and frozen in time, endlessly searching for a port to call home.”

His words floated in the breathless still air, and he turned, slowly, looking back out toward the horizon, where an icy husk of a once great treasure ship drew nearer. And as she drew nearer, a change came over the crew.

Fear gave way to wonder. Wonder, to excitement.

“To arms!” the captain called, met by a riotous cheer from his crew. They sprang into action, each man well-trained in his post. As the long moments stretched, Captain Peacock waited, watching in anticipation, as the Black Irony turned and was off in pursuit of Nasci Everlost.

The Irony was no small ship, quick to turn and fast to leap ahead. No, the flagship of the Pirate Fleet was a 120-ton war galleon, rigged and ready to run along the wind. She may have been slow to get moving, but under these favorable conditions, nothing could outrun her.

Nothing natural, that is.

The crew watched with alarm as the smaller ship ahead of them picked up speed as if the winds of hell itself propelled them forward.

“Loose the mainsails and trim the topgallants!” Captain Peacock shouted. “They won’t get away that easily!” The crew scrambled to follow his command and soon the Irony was picking up more speed.

With every breath and ever heartbeat, the well-trained crew proved their worth. The King’s Men were known as the best of the best for a reason. The way the heavy, lumbering ship sped through the water, following the wake of the fabled Ice Ship, no one would question why.

Nearer they drew, and nearer still until the vague, shrouded forms aboard the other ship came into view. Large, pale beasts of men crewed the Ice Ship. Each was taller and wider than even the most well-worked laborer, with thick ropes of muscle bulging against their ancient-style tunics of matted, fading wool.

Shouts and calls drifted across the expanse. Deep, guttural noises that knew no place in our world. Peacock watched as several of his crew made signs against evil, in response to the demonic sounds from the ghost ship. He might have be tempted to give in to the superstition as well, but that he recognized the natural rise and fall of native speech patterns. It may not be a language he knew, but these were simply men. Men from another time and place perhaps, but just men like him and his crew.

A lone figure stood out among the rest. At the prow of the ship, pointing straight ahead, was a woman–slim and lithe, with long blonde hair so fine it floated like silk on the wind.

Before they could gain a better look, the hull beneath their feet shuddered. A loud scraping knock echoed up along the hull and through the bowels of the ship to where Captain Peacock stood.

“What was that!” someone shouted.

“Iceberg! Off the port beam,” someone else replied.

Soon reports of minimal damage came from all quarters, and the crew released a collective sigh of relief. No matter how legendary the prey, even Johnny Peacock wouldn’t risk taking on water this far north. But that wouldn’t stop him in his pursuit.

The water around them was littered with chucks of ice and flotsam frozen in place by endless winters at sea. A wiser man would have slowed, or turned away rather than risk his ship, but once the Peacock had set his sights on something, he would not look away.

“I want more speed!” he called again. “Coax as much of it from those sails as you can. A little ice won’t stop us.”

The crew only hesitated a moment before following their captain’s orders, and soon they were off again, hot in the wake of the smaller ship. Only the crunch of ice breaking away beneath their hull reminded them of the rocks below.

“Come on, lads! Let’s not give up yet.” Captain Peacock bounded up the steps to the forecastle as if it were a stage. “The treasure of Nasci Everlost is like nothing the world has ever seen. Take this ship with me and you will all be very rich men!”

“You,” he pointed to a sailor who had paused to stare at him in wide-eyed awe. “Do you have family back home?”

The sailor sputtered and nodded before speaking, “Y-yes, Captain! M’folk’s farmers mostly. Back in Waveport.”

The Peacock grinned. “With even your tiny portion of this haul, you, your parents, your kin, and all their children for the next six generations won’t have to work a day in their lives. How does that sound?”

Cheers erupted from all over the deck, upon the masts, and even on the gun decks where they could barely hear him.

“Then let’s go claim it!” he shouted one last time.

As if spurred on by flames, the crew jumped into action, finding every way they could to close the gap with the ship in front of them.

More mist clouded their way. Every league further forward was another wall to their sight lines. Soon, they wouldn’t be able to see anything at all, save for the glowing, crystalline ship dead ahead of them.

“Man the forward guns!” Peacock called.

Crewmen in teams of four ran to each of the six swivel guns along the forward rails and began loading them.

“Fire!”

The first shot rang out, sailing clean across the tail of the fleeing ship, but she didn’t slow. In fact, no one aboard seemed to mind the warning at all. They simply pressed forward.

“Again!” Peacock shouted.

A second time, the warning rang out and shot across their flank, and a second time, the warning was ignored.

“If that’s the way it will be then, let’s stop with the pleasantries,” he muttered to himself. “A full volley, if you please gunners. Then let’s see if we can’t get close enough to leave a mark.”

The gunners hurried to reload, and soon, four sets of shots echoed across the storm-dark sea. Three cannons firing together, then the next, then the next.

The first missed, landing as the warning shots had, off their stern flank. The second and third collided with the flat side of their hull, with a cracking, shattering sound as large chunks of ice broke away and fell into the water below.

The final shot flew high, and with a satisfied shout, Peacock watched it make tear through the pristine sails.

“Again!” he ordered. It would only be a matter of time now. With more shots like that the sails would torn to shreds, and the ship would be forced to slow.

The next volley was loosed, and with smug satisfaction, he waited for his prize.

He waited. He waited far longer than he should have. The Ice Ship should be slowing under it’s own weight. Yet as he watched, nothing changed. The crew continued to man their ship and speak in their dead language, unaffected by the Black Irony or Captain Peacock’s attacks.

He waited, and watched. Surely some telltale sign of the damage they’d done would be apparent by now. But as he watched, the image before him grew more shrouded, more blurry, more faded, and smaller. They were picking up speed.

“It’s not possible,” he muttered. He calculated everything he knew, trying to come up with the answer. Momentum, tides, something must be pushing them along. But the answer would not come to him. Nor would the ship.

“Shoals, dead ahead!” someone called from aloft.

“Hard to port!” Peacock shouted. “Kait! Try to pull us back, I don’t want to take a second hit if we can avoid it.” He walked to the front of the ship, watching for the rocks. They still had time to turn. This would not be their watery grave. Not today.

The Black Irony slowed as it turned. From the broadside beam they had a perfect view of the Ice Ship. Everyone stilled. Three-hundred sailors–men and women of the sea–watched as the great ship of ice sailed directly into the waiting rocks.

“She’s not going to make it!” Kait said, excitement coloring her voice. “We’ll have our prize after all!”

Peacock pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don’t think so, love.” He nodded to their prey.

Nearer and nearer the ice ship drew to the rocks, her fate written in every breath they drew closer to the hard death awaiting them. Yet with every breath, the fog great more and more dense. Waves seemed to come up out of nowhere, great swells washing over the rocks.

Then, as if the land itself were an illusion, the ship sailed through the shoals. No sounds of damage, no shouts, or calls of distress came from out the fog. It was still, quiet, and calm. And as quickly as they appeared, Nasci Everlost, faded once more into the mist, lost again to time.

Just as fast as it had appeared, the fog lifted. The ocean around them was still and cold, the night calm and empty just as it had been before. For long, barren moments no one dared move.

“I do believe,” Captain Peacock said quietly into the still evening, “that you have all been witness to something amazing tonight.”

He turned inward to face his awestruck crew. “No matter what else happens, remember this night. We have seen something beyond understanding. A ship from legend sailed along side us, and we were lucky enough to get a taste of it. Nasci Everlost may be nothing more than a ghost ship, cursed to wander the seas forever, but we, we were the few lucky enough to see it for ourselves.”

Slowly, so slowly, amazed silence turned into murmured excitement, and then into cheers. Captain Peacock smiled to himself, proud of his crew.

It must have been the adrenaline rushing through him from the chase, but he found he was quite warm. He draped his heavy blue-wool coat on the inside handrail and looked around. When he finally paused to get his bearings, he found no familiar landmarks. He glanced at the sky, mentally charting the stars.

His eye twitched, but he wouldn’t show his alarm to the crew.

“Kait” he said placidly to his first mate at his side. “Can you verify our location?”

She fetched a sextant, took a moment to chart their degrees, then paused, and did it a second time. Then a third. “Sir,” she said eventually, he voice carefully controlled. “I believe we are somewhere west of Meket. Over two hundred leagues off our charted course.”

He nodded. A slow grin spread across his face. “It seems there are more than a few mysteries in the world. And a price to pay for chasing down a legend.”