Cabin Fever

Bruce was lying on the floor of the tiny boat’s cabin, breathing deeply. Slowly, he opened his eyes. His hand was lying in front of his face. He twitched it in front of his face experimentally. That was working then. He raised his arms, slowly lifted himself up. He became aware of a rhythmic beating, and looking up at the windowpanes saw rain sheeting down. The storm...  he thought.

Bruce raised himself fully upright. The cabin was small, just tall enough to accommodate him. He looked left, and saw Hecate sprawled over the large padded shelf that stretched around the cabin’s walls in a large U. He walked over to her, and shook her.

“Hecate? Hecate? We’re on the surface. Hecate – wake up!”

Hecate stirred slightly, shifted.

“Hecate! Wake up!”

Hecate moved again, opened her eyes up.

“Bruce?” she asked quietly.

“We made it – we’re on the surface.”

“Oh... good.” Hecate slowly raised herself up.

“So... how are we going to get to land again?” Bruce asked. “If there’s any land not flooded after a storm like this.”

Hecate thought for a moment. “Even powerful magic can’t outdo a storm of this power – and even if it could, there’s no way I’d have the runes necessary to get us out of here. I’d need three times the elemental runes I have stowed in here to do so.”

“Well, looks like I’ll have to rely on my brilliant naval skills to get us out.”

“You’re a sailor?”

“Sailor, horse rider, glider pilot, dragon flyer – you name it, I’ll ride it.”

“Tortoise?”

“Don’t be silly.”

Hecate giggled.

“Okay, Hecate, I need a map. Can you show me where we are?”

“Um...” Hecate wondered, “Yes. I’ll be just a minute.” She stood up, raised the cushion she had been sitting on, pulled back a cover, and pulled out a small number of runes. She sat back down again, and focused on the runes. They started to glow slightly, casting an orange mist. Slowly, the orange combined into one relatively flat surface, which suddenly turned blue and green, forming into recognizable landmasses. It focused in on the area north of Karamja. A small red dot was flashing from the middle of the sea.

“That’s us,” she said.

“Okay. The nearest land is...” Bruce traced his finger in various directions. “Right. Crandor is geographically closest, but there’s no one there. Entrana is also pretty close, but that’s generally low-lying and there’s no way you’ll get on there. So that leaves the Dark Wizard’s tower. How does that sound?”

“I’ll definitely get in there. I should be able to convince them to allow you in,” Hecate decided.

“Dark Wizard’s tower it is. Is there a canopy for this boat? I don’t want to get washed off as I operate the tiller.”

Hecate pointed to a large crank installed in the wall. “I’ll operate it.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said, and opened the door.

Immediately, he was set upon by a powerful howling wind that tried to beat him into submission with wave after wave of heavy, fast-moving raindrops. The small boat was being tossed this way and that by the unrelenting waves, and spray was continually flying onto the deck, mingling with the rain, making it almost impossible to move. Slowly, however, the thick green canopy started to emerge from cabin, turning the boat into what looked like a glorified tent. Temporarily relieved from the pounding rain, Bruce crawled along the deck to the tiny room at the rear, where the tiller was housed. A periscope led up to the top deck, and through which Bruce could see which way he was moving. Although he was in the middle of the sea, he could just make out a darkened patch which was Crandor’s huge black hulk. Provided he was moving away from that he would be roughly on target for the Dark Wizard’s tower. He started the tiresome process of jockeying the tiller, knowing he wouldn’t be stopping for hours yet.

For thirty tedious, strenuous minutes Bruce had been heaving the tiller to try and correct the boat’s course after the storm continually threw it off course. Bruce found that it was actually quite difficult, even though normally it should have been a breeze. Perhaps it was because he had had practically nothing really good to eat for almost a week now. Bruce was pulling and pushing the tiller when suddenly...

'CRASH! '

Something slammed hard into the side of the boat. Bruce scrambled out of the tiller and poked his head out beneath the canopy to see what had happened. Though almost nothing could be seen due to the rain breaking the water with billions of tiny ripples, Bruce could just make out a number of dark silhouettes beneath the waves resembling...

Squid?

Bruce peered down again. Yes, those shapes definitely were squid, and their tentacles were writhing beneath the waves. Bruce had never seen squid in groups this large – surely it was a trick of the light? But then, with the squid, he saw sharks circling round them, as if they were an escort. Bruce had never seen sea creatures behave like that. And then he remembered something, from back in Ardougne... a talking lobster? The leader of the Sea Life Army? Sea Life... Army?

Bruce rushed into the cabin.

“Hecate, we’re in trouble.”

“What? What’s going on?” Hecate asked, confused.

“Beneath the ship – there are all sorts of sea creatures. I’ve never seen them together before. Squid, sharks – they’re in disciplined formations.”

Hecate sighed. “I thought this might happen.”

“What? What do you mean, Hecate?”

“For years now there’s been this, this ‘Sea Life Army’. I think it might be my fault. When I was training to be a necromancer one of my animation charms was too powerful. We were by a cliff on the peninsula – the charm caused a sort of explosion, and it tore off chunks of rock into the sea. I suppose they must have been imbued with a sort of charm that renewed life to whatever touched it. I suppose some fish must have drawn near it and gained this power... this spread up the food chain and now practically every fish in the Karamjan Sea must be intelligent with improved strength. And surely it’s passed into the other oceans too.” Bruce looked at her. “You’re sure?”

“Yep. I know it sounds crazy.”

“It’s not crazy.”

Hecate looked up at Bruce. “You think so?” She smiled.

“Of course not. But anyway, I need to go back and steer this boat to safety. I’ll see you later.” Bruce turned and opened the door. He struggled along the deck, but before he was halfway –

'RIP! '

The canopy was torn off the boat. No sooner had the green sheet gone flapping up into the sky, the rain resumed its angry attempts to beat Bruce into submission. He clung to the side of the boat, trying to inch his way back. But before he had gotten anywhere he saw out of the corner of his eye the most gargantuan wave he had ever seen – coming for the boat. Perhaps Bruce might be able to get to the tiller, turn the boat so the wave hit the bow, as you were always supposed to do in these situations... But there was no way that could happen.

The wave smashed into the side of the boat and Bruce was elevated up and off the boat. It was only a few seconds but it felt like an hour for him to soar through the air – or water, for there was so much rain – and to crash into the sea. Bruce was forced underwater, but was able to power his way back up to the surface. Already the boat was shrinking in the distance. Bruce tried to swim towards it, but the waves were too strong, and continuously pushed him back. He tried calling out – a futile effort due to the loud storm, but it might help.

“Hecate! Hecate!” He called out. His eyes were filled with water and stinging thanks to the salt, but he could just make out Hecate’s shape in the boat’s windows – doing nothing.

“Hecate! Help!” Bruce shouted even louder. Still nothing. He tried his best to swim to the side of the boat. The waves threw him back before he was even halfway. Bruce mustered his power for one final call.

“'HECATE! HELP ME! '”

But still nothing happened. Bruce tried once more to swim, but nothing whatsoever was happening. His strength was faltering. He was tired. He couldn’t go on...

Suddenly, Bruce awoke inside the cabin. He was dry, and was lying down on the padded seating that ran around the room. The lamp was shining quite brightly in his eyes. The windows were dark grey and smudged due to the rain. His eyes still stung, but Bruce could see clearly enough. Abruptly he realized that Hecate was standing right over him.

“You okay?” she asked, gently.

Bruce tried to talk, but all that came out was violent coughing. Hecate put her hand to his forehead.

“It’s alright, don’t rush,” she whispered, “Just relax.”

Bruce finally managed to speak, in a quiet, raspy voice. “How... how did you save me?”

“Shhh... You reached the boat, eventually. I hauled you out. You were unconscious, and you’ve been asleep for almost three hours now.”

“Have you been steering the boat?”

“We’re nearing the coast. The storm is pushing us towards land. Don’t worry – it’ll still be another day yet.”

Bruce tried to prop himself up, but he was still weak. He realized that he had a splitting headache.

“My head...” he moaned.

“Don’t worry,” said Hecate, pressing a wet cloth to the point just above his ear. Bruce felt it hurting, but tried not to say anything about it. Nevertheless, he did give a slight groan.

“Does that hurt?” asked Hecate.

“Yes...” Bruce said.

Hecate took the cloth and it on Bruce’s forehead.

“Does that hurt?” she asked again.

“Yes... ow!” Bruce said.

“Does this hurt?” Hecate asked. She slowly lent forward, and kissed Bruce on the lips. She withdrew, tenderly.

“No.” Bruce decided.

Five miles away, and five miles underground, something is happening. The ancient magma vents are suddenly moving after a thousand years or more, and the pressure is building. Crandor is enjoying its last hours of existence.