Undead Sails

A/N: Another one of my Akreteran legends. Again, it is loosely based on a Greek naval myth. Seriously...
I\'m not really a poet, so humor me and pretend that my rhymes are decent. Feedback would be nice, though.
Warning: Some adult material included. Homosexuality implied, although nothing graphic.
Disclaimer: No seals or shamans were permanently injured during the writing of the story.
 
 
Undead Sails.
 
\"From the Mother comes the soil.
Charcoal burn and millstone toil.
Hear the Wheels of Heaven turn,
Feel the fire of Shelonn burn.\"
Traditional shamanic curse of the Cunane Tribe.
 

Just like most cultures of the world, the native people of Akretera were deeply concerned about the Afterlife. Each tribe had their own legends and lore, but they all agreed in one thing. Shelonn was a very unpleasant place to spend eternity.

The Highland people, the Sagate, believed that their Patron Daemon Ceterach would greet them into His eternal Hunting Grounds. For the Cunane it was Plumina\'s Garden, serene fields of peace and ethereal songs. And the sea tribe envisioned the Afterlife as an underwater realm, where they could at last unite with the ocean.

Of course, this was the fate reserved for the worthy ones.

The unworthy, the sinners and the cursed would end up in Shelonn, a shadowy realm of grief, fire and pain. They had no description for this place of woe. Ruled by the Death Daemon Sadatix and guarded by the souls of her faithful servants, all there was left was darkness and fear, the substance that nightmares are made of, a gray nothingness inside the reign of dust.
 
However, according to an old naval myth, the cursed seamen were sometimes spared this fate.
 
As told by the Luthare shamans, it all began many lifetimes ago, when they had just settled on the green island. A sea captain by the name Falsam had just docked and was heading to the mainland, carrying sealskins to trade with provisions for his next voyage. On the way to the nearest trading post, he saw dark clouds gathering and smelled the storm in the air. He looked around for a cover, but he was amidst open fields where the scarce bushes could offer little shelter. Having no desire to reach the trading post like a wet cat, he chose a different solution. He took off his clothes and carefully folded them inside a sealskin. Despite the rain, the weather was warm, so he continued his journey naked, hoping that he would meet no other travelers along the way.

When the rain stopped, Falsam dried himself with a skin and put his clothes back on. After a while he came across another traveler. Judging from the tattoos that were decorating his face, Falsam identified the man as a shaman, a servant of the Death Daemon. He slightly bowed his head in greeting, although in truth he had little respect for shamans in general. However, the shaman was staring at him, clearly puzzled. Falsam halted his journey, unsure of how to respond.

He finally decided to speak. \"Yes? Was there something you wanted?\"

\"My apologies, good man,\" said the shaman. \"I couldn\'t help but notice that you are completely dry, despite the heavy raining a few moments ago.\"

Falsam grinned, seeing that the shaman was still soaking wet. \"And?\"

\"Well, I was wondering if you would care to share your secret. I am Merker, servant to the Death Daemon, and I travel a lot during the rain season. Needless to say, I would be happy if I could be spared getting wet every time.\" He gazed at Falsam hopefully.
The sea captain grinned wider. He had just found a great opportunity to sell a couple of skins at a good price. Moreover, the chance of having some fun on the shaman\'s expense was too good to ignore.

\"Perhaps I will share the secret, my good man,\" said Falsam silkily. \"For a price, of course.\"

The shaman frowned. \"What kind of price would that be? I\'m not a wealthy man, you know.\"

Falsam chuckled. \"I was thinking of a small favor. A blessing, one could say.\"

The shaman\'s face lit up. \"Of course, my good man. A blessing would be just fine. We shamans live to serve.\"

\"Oh, I hope you do,\" he said and snickered. \"But how do I know that you will not trick me and deny me my compensation?\"

\"Are you calling me a liar?\" His eyes narrowed. \"I will swear by my Mistress\' name, if that will satisfy you.\"

\"Please, do swear,\" replied Falsam, hardly believing the ease with which he had fooled the shaman.

Once Merker swore that he would honor their agreement, the sea captain told him his secret and sold him a sealskin in a fairly good price. Content with their deal, the shaman was ready to fulfil his part of the contract.

\"Well,\" he asked, \"what sort of blessing did you have in mind?\"

Falsam smirked and began to unbuckle his pants. \"Make a guess.\"

He stared at him in disbelief. \"Excuse me?\"

\"You agreed to do for me a little favor, did you not?\" asked Falsam slyly, as he exposed himself. \"I\'m ready for my blessing now,\" he mocked him.

Merker had paled. \"This... this is not a blessing! This is blasphemy!\"

The seaman chuckled. \"Trust me, if you had been off shore for as long as I have, this would certainly seem like a blessing to you.\"

He gulped. \"Surely, there are women in the nearby settlements that will gladly take care of you, I\'m sure of it,\" he mumbled.

\"Oh, I don\'t think so,\" Falsam sighed. \"The trouble with the lasses is that they all request a gold coin or two. Or, worse, a marital tattoo around their wrists.\" He glanced at the shaman like a hungry animal. \"Now, if you would be kind enough to bend over...\"

\"I will do no such thing,\" he protested.

\"You swore,\" Falsam reminded him. \"What will your Mistress do if you break an oath by Her name?\"

The shaman felt his mouth dry. Risking Sadatix\'s wrath could prove far worse than what this man had in mind for him. Unwillingly, he finally yielded to Falsam\'s request.

After the deed was done, Merker stared icily at the sea captain. \"This is not over,\" he hissed.

Falsam laughed.

Then the shaman raised his left hand, with his index and little finger pointed at Falsam and cursed him.

With his lust satisfied, the seaman couldn\'t care less about his curses. He turned his back to the humiliated shaman and continued his journey.

~*~

Many cycles passed by and Falsam finally died. Having lived a wicked life, it was only natural that he would end up in Shelonn, along with the other murderers, thieves and rap. Fa. Falsam found himself before the ghastly gates, wondering if there was any way that he could escape this fate. And his jaw dropped when he saw the guard on duty that night.

\"Well,\" he cooed, \"if it isn\'t my old sweetheart.\"

Merker\'s ghost sighed. \"Of course.\"

\"What do you say for another \'blessing\'? For old times\' sake?\"

Merker snorted. \"This is your place of torment, not mine, disgusting sailor.\" And he sneaked behind the ghastly gates, leaving Falsam\'s soul outside.

The seaman stood alone between Heaven and Hell, unsure of what he was supposed to do. After a while, he saw in relief the shaman\'s spirit returning. But the triumphant glow in his fleshless eyes promised nothing good.

\"Well, this settles it,\" said the specter. \"I\'ve notified both my Mistress and my fellow guards. You are now permanently banned from entering Shelonn.\"

\"But what will I do now?\"

Merker shrugged. \"What do I care? Find someone else to pester, foul spirit.\" Chuckling, he vanished behind the gates.

Falsam was left flabbergasted.

Snorting, he turned his back to the gates of Shelonn. If Hell denied him, he\'d take his chances with Heaven.

Sneaking inside Plumina\'s Garden was an easy task. Her shamans were very trusting anyway. Falsam made himself at home in a quiet meadow, eating from the trees around him and satiating his thirst from the cool streams, thrilled to find their waters sweet like warm mead. But his presence did not remain unnoticed for long. Surely, everyone enjoyed a feast or two. But no one expressed their satisfaction with the vulgar sounds that came from Falsam\'s mouth and nether regions. To make things worse, the sea captain was eyeing the bards residing at a nearby meadow. He stalked them at every given chance, singing his obscene tavern songs hoping to lure one of them closer.

Finally Plumina decided to take the matter into Her own hands. She assumed a female form and visited the Garden. Falsam was lying belly up under a blossomed cherry tree, singing.

Come sit on my lap, lass,
Let me feel your tender ass.
Fetch another mug of ale,
Let me tell you a little tale.
And if you fancy what you\'re told,
Something hard you\'ll have to hold.

And he accompanied the rude song with exploding noises from his nether regions.

Plumina, the Matron of the Arts, felt violated by this man who dared to soil Her Garden. Infuriated, She summoned the power of the land. The earth beneath them opened and swallowed Falsam, who was caught completely unawares. Somewhere between Heaven and Hell, the earth spitted out the offender and Falsam found himself floating in limbo.

Cursing through clenched teeth, he gathered his strength and made his way to the Hunting Grounds, thinking bitterly that his talent was not accredited even after death. Reaching Ceterach\'s domain, he found out that His shamans were not as easy to fool. But in the end he succeeded and began to explore his new surroundings.

He finally reached a clearing where the dead hunters were having a feast. Falsam felt right at home. He drunk the wine that flowed freely, he burped without offending anyone and his song-writing talent found an approving audience. Dazzled from the strong wine, the sea captain made a pass to one of the Sagate maidens tending the celebration. Of all people, he had chosen a married woman. And the feast came to a halt. Her husband, who had shared with her a long and happy life and an even happier afterlife, was deeply insulted. Falsam\'s shameless flirting led to a brawl, much to the amusement of everyone attending.

The upheaval, however, did not go unnoticed by the Daemon of the Hunt. Ceterach, alerted by Plumina of a possible intrusion, rushed to the clearing. Assuming the form of a proud stag he appeared before the gathering. The Sagate parted in reverence and Falsam was left alone in the centre of the clearing. He watched in horror as the stag lowered his mighty head, the sharp horns aiming directly at his lower abdomen. Without hesitation he turned and ran as fast as his feet could carry him, with the sound of stomping hooves echoing in his ears.

As Falsam was sitting on the shores of the Eternal Ocean, wondering if he could fool Lanarin\'s shamans as easily, the Daemons convened to discuss his case. The Sea Daemon, deeply embarrassed by his behaviour and the shame he had brought upon Her tribe, appeared before him in all Her might.

\"What am I supposed to do with you?\" she inquired, her voice like thunder and lightning.

Falsam sighed. He too was tired and needed to finally rest. \"Give me a ship,\" he asked.

She raised one scaly eyebrow. \"And why would I want to do that?\"

\"My Lady,\" he said wearily, \"I will not deny that I\'m a thief and a murder and slave to the sins of the flesh. The only thing I\'ve been good at during my life was sailing. Give me a ship and the wind to sail her by, and I vow I will never cause any distress again.\"

Lanarin stared at him thoughtfully. \"A ship it is. And crew?\"

Falsam shrugged. \"Let me have the cursed and the sinners like myself, or let me sail alone. It matters not. The sea has been my home and sailing the Eternal Ocean is more than I deserve.\"

The Sea Daemon nodded.

 
Legend has it that sometimes at sundusk, in the twilight of the witching hour, a black ship could be seen sailing in the distance. It sailed against the weather and it vanished as soon as the moon rose over the horizon. It never approached the other vessels and no one had ever seen it clearly, at least no one who lived to tell the tale. But the sea tribe knew that if one listened close enough, the sea breeze would carry the sound of drunken laughter and vulgar singing.

Sails and mast and warm red wine!
Your tender ass will soon be mine!
Stir the wheel against the weather,
And sail our Mother Sea forever!
 
The Sea protects Her own; even those not really worthy of Her blessing.