Nastal was on deck as the moon cast its light over the smooth waters of the sea. He hadn't left Ayaton in a long time and had forgotten how much he missed the ocean. He had turned part of the ship into an altar and sacrificed a goat to the god Revedon; its meat would be roasted for the crew later. Then he prayed to Theanivar for a safe voyage and to Shelterstorm, the goddess of lightning, for mild weather and good shelter. Once all the rituals were completed, nothing more disturbed the priest.
His ship was small and bore the queen's symbol. He had brought with him a small, versatile crew for protection, along with Marby, whom he liked. The latter made no resistance, but his eyes were full of wonder. Little of what had happened was known to the people of Ayaton, and Marby understood that something serious was afoot, serious enough to require Nastal to travel far.
"We're nearing Akra," Marby said. He was wearing a brown tunic and had a sheathed knife at his side. He drank some rum and handed the flask to the priest. Nastal made an exception and drank some.
"The Monster," he replied.
"Hmm?"
"That's the name of the island. The Monster."
"Yes, Nastal. It's named after the monster they say sleeps in the cave to the west."
"That one there," Nastal said, pointing to the mountain that covered the western part of the island. "That's where Serperia, one of Sentinel's children, sleeps."
"Do you believe it?"
"Of course. Mascardi Berio discovered it centuries ago. They say it's because of him that Serperia doesn't wake often. We owe him a lot."
"So they say," Marby agreed.
"We'll sleep on the island tonight. There's no reason we should be deprived of the comfort of an inn if we have the choice."
Marby laughed.
"Comfort? You don't remember them well, Nastal. Have you forgotten that the islanders are called Monsters, too?"
"Nonsense," said Nastal. "Unfair for a people who have learned to live with a huge threat. They deserve congratulations. The entire Trident owes them a debt of gratitude, if you ask me."
"Is it true they're good hunters?"
"They are remarkable. But I don't know the details. I do know they place charms between the stones of their houses when they build them. They are a sullen people, perhaps a little wild, but their inns will be as warm as ours."
"I'm not so sure, but it's your decision."
The ship continued on its course quietly. Soon after, they dropped anchor in the port of Akra.
Inside the inn, Nastal was glum. The environment was indeed different from what he was used to. The world seemed darker—no laughter, no music, no sailors' stories. The wild faces of the natives, full of angles, and their large, muscular bodies were unsettling. Akra Island was dry, with vegetation almost non-existent. Through the window, the swamp separating the settlement from Serperia's caves could be seen. Fog covered the land beyond the settlement, dead trees looming in the vast, lifeless expanse. Something about the eerie landscape made Nastal shudder.
"What is it that makes us associate evil with barren land?" he asked Marby, though his gaze was lost in the swamp.
Marby shrugged. Nastal turned and smiled at him, easing him from the difficult questions.
"My good Marby, with this gold, see that the supplies get to our ship," he said, handing him a pouch.
"Do we need that many supplies, Nastal?"
"They're not just for us."
"What do you mean?"
"You noticed we don't have an army with us, just a few sailors to help us. And as much as I appreciate your help, would you take on pirates and monsters?"
Marby took a sip of wine.
"I thought so. So we'll have to rely on something else to get across the Southern Seas, if not our weapons."
"You mean magic, sire?"
Nastal nodded.
"What kind of magic has to do with food?"
Nastal ate some of his meal and took a hearty sip of wine.
"It's not our magic, Marby. It's the magic of the gods. And we're not just getting food—we're getting animals, live ones. We will offer them to the gods for our journey, and no monster, no pirate will dare stand in our path."
Marby lacked the knowledge or the courage to challenge the priest and the queen's right-hand man. He simply nodded in agreement.
"As you can see, they don't have many animals here, so we pay dearly for them. Go ahead now, pay up, because we have a long journey in the morning."
Marby paid and joined Nastal upstairs. The only good thing about that inn was its quietness. Their sleep was deep and swift.
The next morning at sea, the wind was blowing hard. The gray sky overhead was just a warning, but Nastal remained focused on his purpose. The goat moved freely on the deck, the restricted space making it restless. It bleated and jumped from one spot to another until Nastal led it to the circle he had drawn on the wood with some charcoal.
"Easy now, my friend," he murmured, plunging his knife resolutely into its belly. The animal gave a small cry before it died, and its blood soaked the wood. The wind blew harder, and the blood flowed out of the circle. Nastal stretched his bloodied hands and held them up. "Theanivar, accept this gift, make our journey easy and swift! Revedon, lord of the oceans, show us the best way!"
The sailors looked on in awe and fear. The weather was changing before their eyes, and they all made a gesture with their hands, warding off evil. Marby approached the priest.
"Is it over?"
Nastal turned, satisfied. "Yes, Marby. Get that goat ready to eat tonight."
"I thought we weren't supposed to eat the sacrifices. Doesn't it offend the gods?"
"An old saying, merely a superstition. The gods know our intentions and our needs."
Marby nodded.
"We won't see land today. Maybe not tomorrow either."
"Aren't we stopping at Sing?"
"There's nothing to see there, Marby. It's a dry island, smaller than Akra. It has only a prison and a settlement as dark as it is miserable. Akra will look like a grand feast beside it."
"The gods be with us," said Marby, shuddering.
"I thought it was something great."
"On the contrary. That's where we send the worst criminals of the southern seas. Years ago, Mascardi Berio killed the siren that lured sailors' ships onto the rocks."
"I thought it was one of his warriors."
"So they say. Some people think Vario Darani killed it. Others say Mascardi's bard destroyed her with his own voice. You can never really know. Or maybe you can."
Marby frowned. "What do you mean, Nastal?"
"Nothing, Marby. Don't pay any attention. I have a lot on my mind. Do you know there's a statue on the island with no arms?"
Marby shook his head.
"They call it the Statue of Nothing. Do you know why?"
Marby didn't speak.
"Because that's what you're left with if you go to Sing's prison. You leave everything behind. All you're left with is nothing."
Marby shivered. It was no different from any other prison in concept, but something in the priest's description unsettled him. Perhaps it was the idea that someone had gone to the trouble of making a statue to emphasize the point.
"I know what's been bothering you, Marby," said Nastal.
"I find that hard to believe, sire. I don't even know myself."
"It's the idea of evil. The same idea that plagues us all. What is evil? What is it that makes a simple act seem darker and more terrifying than a clearly heinous act? It's evil, Marby. The intention of one to weave in their mind the destruction of others—using resources, time, and intelligence for evil instead of good. It's frightening what such a process can awaken. It is terrifying to think how much pain can be brought about by man's meticulousness if he so desires."
Marby shuddered. This all sounded as frightening as it did unfamiliar.
"What are we looking for?" he finally asked. Nastal smiled at him, finally admiring his wit a little.
"Answers, Marby. And hopefully, where we're going, we'll find them. Because if not, I don't know where else to look. Go now, before the goat rots."
Marby picked up the lifeless animal's body and walked down the deck steps.