Even at night, the ship was never silent. The wooden planks creaked and groaned, as the bitter cold winds filled the sails, pushing the ship onwards through the void. Crewmen worked at their tasks, the reasons a mystery to Erin, even after almost three full months of travel where she had been watching them.
Old man Uric, swaddled in the protective sheepskin vest against the cold, endlessly coiling and uncoiling thick rope. Looping this length, and untying that length, before retying it elsewhere. It had no noticeable effect on anything that Erin could see, but he did it, constantly. Endlessly. Day or night, no matter the shift he was on, it seemed to be his task to coil those ropes.
Then there was Henrye, boisterous and loud with a laugh that was infectious. He climbed the rigging, first up, and then down. Erin had no idea what he did at the top of his climb, but the ships officers had no complaints about his work.
Or at least none that she had noticed.
Her eyes drifted across to the main mast, as thick around as two men, and taller than any of the trees back home. He hung there still, his back crisscrossed by the crimson lines drawn by Mark Letterford, with the leather whip he kept coiled on his belt.
Yes, if the ships officers were displeased, they were not shy in showing it.
"Stop your wool-gathering, girl."
Erin turned to look back over her shoulder at Geoffrey. He was old, or at least he was to her, his skin weathered by years in the sun. His body was lean, his height barely more than her own, which was a preference for those in his profession. A profession, she dreamt of joining.
"Sorry."
"No need for sorry, just finish your work."
She nodded and turned back to the leather harness in her hands, running the straps through her fingers as she searched for weakness or wear. It was a tedious task, but one that was important, and a mistake could well cost a life.
Geoffrey was not a bad master to serve as an apprentice. He was not unkind, and he offered praise when it was warranted, but he was not shy with the belt when it was needed either. A fact that Erin knew all too well.
With the orange glow from the lamps set along the ships rail, and the silver light of the moon and stars in the clear sky above, it was not hard to see the leather in her hands. Not that she had need of it, she had run her fingers across every inch of that harness more times she could count and could have accomplished her task blindfolded.
Not that she would, she thought, a little guiltily. It was too important not to give it her full attention.
A quick glance back at Geoffrey whose attention had returned to his own task, and she exhaled a soft sigh. It felt like forever since they had boarded the ship, to travel to the furthest edge of the void. A journey she had expected to be full of excitement and adventure but had instead been quite tedious.
Voices caught her attention, and she looked over to the stairs that led down belowdecks. Two figures climbed into view. The woman was beautiful, wearing a thick fur cloak over the soft, blue, velvet robe of her office. Her face, usually relaxed and quick to smile, was sombre as she crossed to the rail.
Sheathed on her belt, in easy reach of her hand, was a carved wooden rod. Polished smooth by years of use, it was dull and lifeless and would remain so until she placed a hand upon it. She spoke softly to her companion, who listened intently, his head bowed and tilted towards her.
He was close in age to Erin's seventeen years, and like her, an apprentice. His wool robes were grey, signifying his status. Once he chose an order to join, at his apprenticeships end, he would wear their colour. She had heard that some wore an indication of their chosen order about their person, but as hard as she looked, she could not see it.
Like the woman, he wore a sheathed wooden rod on his belt, though his was newer, the carving rough. A tool made by an apprentice that would be replaced once he moved to the next stage in his profession.
He pulled his woollen cloak closer and nodded to something the woman said. She raised a hand and pointed, off to starboard, and he followed where she pointed with his gaze. His hand reached for the rod on his belt, fingers closing around it and Erin gasped, as lights appeared along its length.
Strings of runes running around its length. A language she could not recognise, nor read, yet still filled her with curiosity, drawing her in as though understanding was just on the edge of her mind.
The apprentice pulled free the wand and pointed it out across the void. He spoke a string of words, one of the glowing runes winking out with each word spoken, and a bright, white, light leapt from the tip of the wand and out across the dark void.
"You'll not say you weren't warned, girl," Geoffrey said, and with a start, Erin realised she had been staring at the two wizards, open-mouthed, and ignoring her work. "Go in and fetch my belt."
With a shiver at the thought of what was to come, Erin set aside the harness and rose from where she'd been sitting in the corner. He was a good man, really, and she knew he wouldn't go too hard with the belt, though he'd not hold back either.
She reached for the handle of the door she'd been leaning against and stopped as a cry went up. She spun, as Geoffrey cursed, rising from his seat and staring out across the ships rail.
"What is it?"
"Shrike," Geoffrey muttered. "Maybe, Cloudrays."
Men were running, and a bell rang out as a crewman sounded the alarm. The two wizards had their heads together, talking rapidly. The doors to the belowdecks burst open and men rushed out, short swords and cutlasses in hand for most, while a few carried long muskets.
"Fools," Geoffrey said, shaking his head. He turned back to Erin, face showing concern. "In and hide, girl. But first, pass me my sword."
Erin nodded, numbly, and pulled open the door. A wave of musky odour washed over her, strong and animalistic, which she ignored as she stepped into the darkness. A bulky shape moved in the far corner of the room, a body shifting, a head being raised.
She could feel eyes upon her as she reached for the equipment rack and pulled free the longsword resting there. Erin looked over at the shape in the darkness. "Not yet," she whispered. "You stay here."
A whuff of hot air was the only answer she got, and she hurried back out to the deck where Geoffrey was waiting.
He took the sword from her without a glance, his attention fixed on the open air beyond the railing. Striding away, he drew the blade, casting aside the sheath as he made his way to the centre of the desk, ensuring there was space enough around him to swing.
Erin turned back to the door and stopped. She'd heard of Shrike, and Cloudrays, but had never seen one and surely, she reasoned, she could get a glimpse before ducking back inside to the safety of their quarters.
Crewmen were lined up against the rail, muskets raised. An officer had appeared, standing on the raised stern deck, pistol in one hand and sword the other. Another joined him, and a third went to stand amongst the gathered men below.
The captain was nowhere to be seen.
"Stand back, lads!" Old Man Uric called, waving back the waiting men. "Give the marksmen room."
"Henri, Marc, get your arses below," Officer Letterford shouted, waving back two men climbing the stairs. "Lock those damned doors!"
Why? Erin wondered, staring. Why have so many others on deck and then tell more to stay below. Another mystery she was sure no one would bother to explain to her.
She gripped the ships rail in her hand, feeling the rough wood as she leaned out. One glance down was all it took for her to grip that rail even tighter, her knuckles whitening with it as nausea climbed to her throat, threatening to spill out.
It was always the same, no matter how many times she looked over the side and down, staring at the empty void beneath the ship that seemed to go on forever, disappearing into darkness that seemed to call to her, whispered words on the edge of hearing, coaxing her, urging her to jump, to fall free and be embraced.
Erin shuddered and wrenched her gaze away, staring back out towards where the bright white light hung in the empty sky.
Or what had been empty.
Hundreds of creatures filled it, wings outstretched, gliding on the winds as they flew unerringly towards the ship. Thunder roared as a dozen muskets were fired at the same time, a cloud of noxious smoke blowing back over the crew, obscuring their view as the marksmen reloaded.
None of the approaching creatures fell, and Erin's curiosity turned to fear.
There were too many of them, filling the night sky, a swarm larger than anything she could have imagined. She let go of the rail, backing away, as the marksmen fired a second time.
Then they hit the ship, crashing over it like a wave on the rocks.
Men screamed!
The shrill cry of the Shrike drowned out of their voices as the razor-sharp claws and teeth tore at exposed skin.
Geoffrey stood on the centre deck, his sword swinging in wide arcs as it cut through air and leathery bodies alike. There was no aiming, no careful swings; there was no need. The air was filled with them.
Fire burst from the wand of the young wizard, aimed out and away from the ship, catching dozens of the cat sized creatures and sending them falling from the sky, bodies burning and trailing smoke.
The man tied to the mast was screaming as his body was covered with the creatures, crawling all over him, biting and tearing at his flesh, their flat snouts covered with blood, as beadlike eyes glittered in the glow of the lamps.
Erin ran.
Her hand was on the door handle and pulling as something heavy hit her back. She fell to the deck, screaming as claws raked her bare neck. She twisted, and rolled onto her back, crushing the creature against the deck beneath her body.
She screamed again as another flew directly at her, maw open revealing needle like teeth. She raised her arms to cover her face and then gasped, as something big, and powerful, burst through the open door and caught the shrike in its beak.
Two quick crunches and the gryphon threw back its head, swallowing the Shrikes broken body whole.
"Brightcrest!" Erin breathed, eyes wide.
The gryphon huffed and unfurled its wings, the lion like hind legs bunching as it prepared to leap. Erin's heart hammered in her chest as she realised too late what it was about to do.
"No!" she cried, leaping up and reaching for the leather collar just visible beneath the feathers of his neck.
With a shriek, she held on for dear life as the gryphon leapt into the air, eager to join battle.