Tales from Beyond the Spider Moon

  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...

Chapter Four - The Elf In no time at all, the Black Ophelia was pulling away from the Spelldocks of Madinat Alnnahas, the City of Brass - tossing their mooring lines and easing out into the blackness of space. The sensation was totally unlike being on a ship at sea. There was no rocking of the ocean waves, no noticeable wind (though Ceru was certain there must be wind, since the ship was moving and the sails were full), and there was little to indicate movement. Only the slowly diminishing asteroid behind them, burning red against the black, starry void, quietly slipping away into the darkness.      When Tormund had led Ceru and Oquee out onto the weather deck, they found an elf talking with the Captain. When he saw the three of them, though, the elf excused himself and approached. “Are you a tortle,” he asked Oquee, “from Ongmar, on the WorldSea?”      Oquee nodded. “Indeed, Master Elf, I am.”      Ceru had never met an elf, but just abou...