Ashen - Chapter 8: Landfall

 

Part Three: Dust and Embers

Chapter Eight: Landfall

On the evening of their arrival at Ashen, Ceru was woken midway through her evening slumber. It was Carver, with a hand on her shoulder, rousing her.

    “All hands,” he said. “We’re here. I’m guessing Mook needs you up in the tops.”

    Bleary-eyed, with a head full of cotton and half-finished dreams, Ceru nodded, reaching for her canteen. After a drink, and a handful of water splashed on her face, with a quick stretch to try willing herself awake, she made it to her feet. Carver was already gone, and all around her, the rest of her watch were also slapping, and stretching, and yawning themselves awake.

    Ceru tended to sleep in her trousers and a blouse, so she fetched a vest from her pack and quickly laced it up before pulling on her boots and strapping her work knife to her belt. A handful of jokes about sleep deprivation and the curse of the dreamless were bandied about, but she only smiled and made her way out of the cabin and up to the weather deck.

    As she surfaced, she was immediately taken aback by the sight before her. The Black Ophelia was hurtling toward the planet Ashen from a low angle. There was nothing in the sky overhead but the nearly lifeless rock, and it was coming on fast.

    The world that Bob called Cindre was mottled brown and grey with sparse white clouds that moved too quickly across its surface. Here and there in the ground below (above) them, there were tiny spots of red and orange - where the largest of the planet's innumerable volcanoes could be seen even from orbit.

    “It’s a sight, ain’t it,” Tormund said, suddenly beside her. He smiled, but his voice had a quiver in it.

    “I-” she stammered. “I- Why are we upside down?”

    Tormund laughed. It was deep and throaty, and only slightly fearful. “We’ll come at it from there - he pointed to the planet above (below), that’s where we’ll pull her up and start our descent. It'll be fast and it'll be loud. There'll be a lot of wind, but it won't be too difficult. That part will be the landing.” He studied her wide eyed expression a moment, then added, “a boat like this is meant to land on water. Only there ain’t no water on Ashen. Not really.”

    Ceru hadn't been able to take her eyes off the approaching planet. Now she turned her worried gaze toward the dwarf.

    “No, don’t worry,” his wide smile faltered, but he was trying to be reassuring. “There’s a kind of silt,” he was pointing at the planet again, but Ceru couldn’t see where he meant. “Fine dust and sand and ash so thick and so soft that skilled crew can put down in it just like it was swamp water or a low river.

    “The weight of the ship sinks us in and secures us upright, but you and me - we’re not heavy enough to slip through, so we’ll be able to walk across.”

    “But we’re upside down?”

    “Wind shear,” the dwarf replied. “It don't make no sense to me; but the wizards tell me a boat like this is meant to go forward, or back maybe - we try to put straight down on Ashen, the masts’ll snap and the sheets’ll fly away and we’ll tangle in our own ropes and end up a prize for the next elven archeologist who wants to go digging in the soot.”

    In that moment, the air was instantly filled with the smell of sulfur, ash, and dust - the scent of the desert before a rain that would never fall. Despite the stink of it, there was a freshness to the wind that Ceru hadn’t noticed was missing during the journey. She breathed deep and filled her lungs, then choked on the taste of it.

    Every sailor who could climb was up in the rigging, securing the sails. All around the ship everything was being tied down and double checked against the rapid upwinds that come from almost literally falling out of space. Ceru was up on the mainsail, hanging on for dear life, when the ship made its turn and started truly flying instead of falling.

    This was her first real landfall, and she tried like hell not to look down past the ship. Seeing the ground below rushing up and past them made her dizzy and sick. She was caught up in the rush of adrenaline and fear; but she managed to crawl into the crow’s nest and put her back to the mast, shutting her eyes against the chaos around her.

    Mookee crawled in after her, laughing, but he sat beside her and snuggled in close. “I never look over until we’re down,” he said. “One way or the other.”