Swamped

You don't get much of a chance to think before you feel something approach you. You fly away just in time to spot a large tentacle striking the spot where you were.

And the tentacle has seen better days. It looks decayed, rotten. It's also filled with the stagnancy you've been detecting.

The kraken it's attached to soon surfaces, and it looks no better. For one, it's not moving much, only as much as it needs to attack. You'd suspect a magically puppeteered corpse, but that would give off traces of ether. Not whatever you're sensing here.

YOUR EFFORTS ARE FUTILE

The voice echoing in your mind is like nothing you've heard before. It's not even so much a voice as it is a presence. Something is in your head, and it doesn't intend to leave.

Then you hear some squawking. It seems to be lifting the pressure, but what's strange is that you can understand it.

Leave.

YOU THINK YOU CAN COMMAND ME

We have already forced you out of this world once. We will do it again.

I WAS WEAKER THEN

I HAVE GROWN STRONGER

But no wiser, it seems. You think yourself clever, hiding in a mockery of life so that I cannot find you. Yet you believe you can swim freely in Nual's ocean.

MY WATERS

MY OCEAN

No. No longer. You have not heeded our warning, and so now we act.

You suddenly feel aware of your surroundings. Whoever was talking, whatever they were talking about, your mind couldn't handle anything else while they were both around. But it seems to have stopped.

The kraken seems to be fighting something, something you can't see or even sense ethereally. You seem to have become superfluous to the struggle.

Then you hear another voice in your head. Thankfully, this one isn't so overpowering - it's Mr. Resk.

Wiz! There you are! I need your help!

I need yours. I'm in flight and don't have a safe way to get back to the ship. And there's something strange going on with what seems to be a reanimated kraken corpse. I mean, strange beyond the fact that it's a reanimated kraken corpse.

Does that have something to do with the gods? Resk asks.

I suspect it might. How did you know?

Because Nual is talking directly through the captain and I really don't like what he's telling me to do.

And that would be? you ask, since he seems reluctant to say more.

Sorry. Nual's getting testy because I'm hesitating. I had to calm him down. He's given orders to send the ship directly at the kraken. I don't think it'll stay intact after that. Really hoping you can either think of something else or at least a way for us to survive the charge.

You don't feel confident enough in your understanding of the kraken to come up with any plans. Certainly not so confident as to argue with a god about the best course of action. Even if you could think of a way to destroy the physical kraken, would the stagnancy go away? You're fairly sure that's what Nual actually wants to be rid of.

But protecting the ship is also quite difficult. It's a large ship, after all, and already not in the best of shape after what it's been through today. It would be too hard to cast a protection spell that could cover the whole thing.

What can you even do?

It's not much, but if you can bind the charred and decayed timbers from the ship of the dead to your ship's bow front, perhaps it will shield the ship from taking irreversible damage.

You can really only see one option right now, and it's not a very good one.

The best I can do is gather up the remnants of the Ship of the Dead and attach the whole mass to the front of the ship, you tell Resk, as you start preparing a spell to do just that. That's about a ship's worth of timber to absorb the impact with, though between the decay and the flames, I can't promise it will be anywhere near enough.

Better than nothing, I suppose. He doesn't sound very happy. You wouldn't either, in his position.

You release your spell. Wind sweeps through the area, gathering up burned wood and carrying it all to one spot. It gathers into a rough ball shape. You need to use ether to keep it together, and attach it to the front of the ship.

The ship starts turning. The charge will come soon. Seems it's time for the next step, the part you didn't explain to Resk. You fly towards the ball as the ship picks up speed, and before long, the flight spell on the ship overwhelms your own and you start hurtling down. At least you managed to give yourself enough speed to find a landing spot, if not exactly a safe one.

What are you doing? Resk suddenly shouts. Perhaps he's looking at you through the eyepiece, you think that came up in a conversation somewhere along the line.

Saving the ship as best I can. Even if one of us had a better idea, it's a bit late to change plans now, I'm afraid.

The ship lifts from the water. As you thought; consuming another flight spell would immediately activate it. That will make this next part easier, assuming you manage to stay conscious and alive.

As the ship draws nearer, you land painfully on the mass of wood. It's relatively soft, at least, but you no doubt have splinters in uncomfortable places. Not to mention your old bones aren't taking it well.

I'll send someone to retrieve you! Resk shouts in your head.

No, that would just put them in danger. I'll have this done in a moment.

You're very close to the kraken. Close enough for what you have to do. You tap the ball of decayed timber lightly, focusing on the spell that makes it act as all one object.

"Heavyweight," you mutter weakly. It's a good thing the verbal component of the spell doesn't actually rely on being heard.

You hear quite a few things in the next few moments. A loud splash, an otherworldly shriek, and a voice in your head crying John, you damned fool!

But it all goes quiet very suddenly after that.

Gods convene.

The silence suddenly ends, but in a stranger way than you would have expected. It sounds like a menagerie is all around you, and yet it's a menagerie whose squawks and roars and shrieks and calls make perfect sense to you.

We can save them, clucks a familiar chicken. And we should.

So that they can call the exile back again? hisses a snake.

Barely one in twenty of their number called to it, a pig squeals. Are we to punish them all for the actions of a few?

The others allowed it to happen, roars a lion. What few actions they took to stop its worshippers were too little, too late. Are we to give them salvation for such weak efforts?

What you hear next is a loud rush of water. But it's just as clearly talking like the rest of them.

The wizard forced the exile into the open, the captain relayed my orders faithfully, and the third mate executed them with honor. And this all happened in my domain. If we will not save them all, at least save those who made this possible, or let them give their lives to others.

Oh. They're talking about you. And you're suddenly aware that they're all metaphorically staring at you, since for whatever reason you're in the middle of their meeting.

Perhaps you ought to say something.

If we survive, we can use what we've learned to identify their leadership and stamp out these cultists.

Also, maybe bring up the whole time magic thing, because that was kind of peculiar.

It takes you a bit to realize how to talk here. At first you try to use your mouth, but then you realize you can't feel your body. Then you try thinking as though you're sending along a mental link, but that doesn't seem to do anything either.

Then, somehow, you just let instinct take over. This seems to mean making noises like a monkey, which somehow convey your meaning.

They might not be the only cult, you gibber. If there's another one somewhere back on land, we can use what we've learned to find them and stop them.

There's a brief pause before the animals start making noise again. This time, you can't understand it. Perhaps someone was deliberately interpreting, and now they've stopped because the real bargaining has started?

Eventually, though, the noise returns to comprehensibility.

Then so be it, the lion roars. We will save the sailors. But they must devote themselves to hunting down the exile's followers. This is our bargain. Any who stray from it will face our wrath. As for your ship's mission, it is now over. Nual shall see to it that your return home is swift.

It is a mistake, the rushing water says. If we leave the-

Suddenly, you can't understand the water any more. A moment later, clarity returns.

-we will regret it later.

The decision is made, the lion roars in response.

I accept this. But it is still wrong.

You suppose you made the best bargain you could, even if you didn't directly negotiate it. Overall, it's probably good news.

But one more thing is bothering you. And this might be your best chance to get some kind of answer about it.

Just one quick question. Did any of you have something to do with the dream I had, informing me about the man displaced by time magic?

And suddenly, the space around you goes silent. You aren't sure just what to make of it.

You're just starting to regret asking, when you get a reply that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere.

Tell no one he was displaced in time.

The words leave no doubt that this decision is unanimous. If you explain it to anyone, you'll be defying all of the gods. You can't imagine anything good coming of that.

Well, you weren't planning on talking about it anyhow. Especially not with Resk, he has enough trouble dealing with magic in general. Attempting to explain time magic would probably drive the poor fellow to madness.

And then, suddenly you wake up. Much to your surprise, you're not in the water. Indeed, you're completely dry.

But it takes a moment before you realize where you actually are.

The hospital in Port Sarvakken

You're in a bed. You much prefer your bedroll, so at first you think you've been brought to the infirmary.

But then you see the walls. They're brick, not wood. This is a hospital on land.

No, not just any hospital. One you recognize quite clearly. You spent a good three years working here before you became aware of your magic, after all.

You're back in Port Sarvakken. And there's a breather mask on your bedside table, as well as Mr. Resk's hat, dripping into a bucket.

Oh hells. You have a strong suspicion about what's happened.

"Another John? I hope you have a last name, or we'll have trouble keeping track," says an uncomfortably familiar voice.

"I don't mind going by a nickname if that'll make things easier," says a voice you can't recall hearing before, but are quite certain nonetheless that you know who it is. "You could call me Clerk, for instance, since it seems I'm the only one."

"Yeah, you are, but I ain't the sort to do that. You're more than your job, you know."

Funny. It's been quite a while since you felt like that was the case.

"Doesn't bother me, but really, I'm good with whatever works for you. But I didn't come here just to introduce myself. I'm told we have an unknown patient?"

"Yeah, some geezer they found on the shore. Surprisingly, he seems like he'll be okay once he wakes up, no signs of pneumonia or the like. He's damned lucky. His clothes were completely soaked with seawater, we had to toss them."

Drat. You liked that robe. And Mr. Resk still has your hat.

"Right. So what exactly do I need to put down for his case? Do I wait until we have a name?"

"Yeah, just fill out what you can for the moment. If we end up not getting a name, you just put him down as Unknown Patient, with today's date, and then No. 1 on the off-chance we get another unknown today. Probably won't, but that's what we do."

If you had any doubt about what was happening here, it's soon put to rest as you overhear the nurse confirming that John, the eager new clerk, has the date right.

The presence of the mask leaves you convinced that Nual had a hand in this. He didn't seem too satisfied with the gods' decision, so perhaps he wants you to do something here. Not that you have any idea what it is.

Regardless, based on what you remember about this conversation, in a few minutes John is going to get back to his desk while the nurse checks on the unknown patient. Which is to say, you're going to have some company in a moment.

You wonder if you're really ready for that.

Better concoct a convincing story so they let you go without much fuss; they'll send you to the mad house if you give them the truth.

You don't even know what to tell them. That the ocean god sent you back in time for reasons you don't know? You doubt they'd believe you, and the gods didn't seem thrilled at the idea of you talking openly about time travel anyhow.

But you also want to get out of here with minimal fuss, and that means not raising any suspicions. Not that you know what you're going to do once you're out, but you're fairly sure you won't be able to accomplish anything in this bed.

Well. One thing that's clear is that you should ask for your robes back, whatever shape they're in. You don't want them leaking temporal energy.

First, though, you need a cover story. You suppose acting more dazed and disoriented than you actually are might help, but it would be good to come up with at least a few details...

The nurse comes in and glances over you. You suppose you're improvising.

"Good, you're awake," she says. "You feeling okay? We didn't notice any injuries, but it's hard for us to tell if you're aching or something."

You put your hand to your head.

"I'm sorry, I don't really understand. What happened? Where is this?"

"This is the hospital. All I know is, you washed up on the shore of the beach and ended up here. Could you tell me your name?"

You were vaguely aware the question would come up, but you hadn't really thought about it. So your current state of mind isn't entirely an act. You strain to remember if you ever changed the name on that patient file...

Yes. You did. But to what?

It was something like Wong or Long...

You remember the first name, of course. Apparently you didn't bother hiding it, since John is too common. The last, though... You're having trouble with that. It's been too long since you worked here...

Wait. That was it, wasn't it.

"Er, John Long," you say. "I think, anyway. I'm a bit muddled."

"Well, it'll be good enough for our records," the nurse says, writing it down. "Now, as I said earlier, you don't seem injured. We also couldn't notice any breathing problems, and your temperature only seems a bit below normal. If not for how soaked your clothes were, I'd think you weren't in the water for very long. I don't suppose you remember what happened?"

"No," you reply. "Well, not clearly. I remember being on a boat, but right now I can't say for sure I'm not just remembering a dream."

No need to mention how large of a boat you remember, of course.

"We didn't see any signs of a boat near you. Maybe someone stole it and shoved you out, or maybe you fell out and it drifted off."

"It could be," you mumble. "I suppose I can't worry about it until I can leave. Actually, if I'm not injured, is there any problem with leaving now?"

"Well, you don't have any clothes, and we still want you overnight for observation, in case we missed something. We do have spare clothes we can provide, but we prefer not to do that if there's another option. Is there anyone we can contact to bring clothes for you?"

You could name a number of people around here, but they wouldn't recognize the name John Long. You should probably just tell her no.

But then, suddenly, you recall a particular person from this time and place. Someone who just might be able to help you, and who wouldn't be inclined to ask questions. It might be worth the risk to reach out.

Good old Mantis

He's a strange fellow. Worshipped at Bua's main temple for three years, then all of a sudden he packed up all his things, came here, and converted to Nual. When you asked him why, he just answered with a weird metaphor you couldn't understand. Two years later, he left town and told you he was switching over to Dara, with another incomprehensible explanation as to why.

But that's about eight months away. Right now, he's still here. You remember there were plenty of rumors about him being involved in some form of shady business, though nobody could prove anything or even explain what he was supposedly doing. Still, he's a genuine priest, even if he can't seem to make up his mind on which of the gods he's working for.

Which means he's a potential point of contact with Nual. You don't know how communicating with a god you last saw years in the future is going to go, but you also can't see any other way of figuring out what you're supposed to do here.

"I'm afraid I don't know many people. Been living on my own for a while, away from people. Trying to get closer to the ocean. Perhaps Nual thought I was getting too close."

"You're a hermit, then, Mr. Long?" the nurse asks.

"Yes, that sounds about right. And I suppose, in addition to clothes, I'm looking for guidance. Perhaps Nual's servants might be able to offer both?"

She looks a bit annoyed. Well, she never did care much for the gods. Probably comes of working in a place like this, where you often see people who don't have their favor.

"Well, we've got a temple to Nual here, but they're busy preparing for a holy day festival. Still, they might have someone they can spare. I'll send a message along. And we'll see what they can do about clothes while we're at it." She pauses. "Do you need anything else at the moment?"

"Some reading material would be nice," you mutter. You expect to be here a while.

"Don't have much, and we've got a fair number of patients today. But I'll see if they've left anything for you."

A fair number of patients...? Now that she mentions it, you recall your first day being rather busy. And there was a specific reason for that. About half the patients at the time were all injured in the same incident.

Though it takes another moment for you to remember just what it was.

A fight at the docks. Seems the crew of one particular ship picked a fight with three other crews.

More than a few ships were coming in for the holy day celebrations. One of them had evidently been celebrating early, because the drunken crew started a fight with their rivals, and two more crews had joined in by the time the authorities intervened. It was so bad that one of the captains in the town guard opted to quit rather than see another mess like that. You'd heard she was even leaving town over it.

You wonder how many of those sailors were readers. Probably not many, if the crew you worked with was any indication. So you hopefully won't have that much extra competition for books.

The nurse soon returns with one.

"This was all we had free," she says apologetically. "So if it's not your thing, not much I can do until someone else finishes."

"I'm sure it will manage to be more interesting than staring at the ceiling," you reply as she hands it to you. "Thank you."

"And I sent word to the temple. No idea when they'll respond, though. If they don't, I suppose we'll just buy you some clothes."

"I don't suppose my old ones could be returned to me, even if they're in no state to wear? They're of sentimental value to me." Mostly the sentiment of not having stray time magic lying around if you manage to leave.

"Doubt you'd recognize 'em, but I suppose that's allowed. I'll make arrangement."

With that, she walks off, leaving you alone with the book. You take a glance at the title.

"Dreamers of Alexandra"

The title is Dreamers of Alexandria: Forbidden Love at Port. You smile a little - you've always enjoyed a good romance, and the Dreamers brand is some of the best. Even if the titles are a little formulaic. And potentially confusing, if anyone ever writes one of these set in the desert city of Alexandra.

Of course, the settings are part of the appeal. Most of the authors are scholars of history and they strive to bring it to life in the pages. They can't possibly recreate the full experience of living under the Aedran Empire, of course, but damned if they don't try.

And if that wasn't enough of a treat on its own, Alexandria is a city that has long fascinated you. Sarvakken is a major point of commerce, but it's never had the level of influence Alexandria did. As far as you've seen, the Royal Council in Gardebell only cares about the port, not the town that's attached to it. So perhaps there's some good to this situation after all.

You get so deeply absorbed in the story of a high-society woman and the merchant captain she loved that you have no idea how much later it is when a young priest taps you on the shoulder.

And it's definitely the man you remember. Looks like you were right that the temple would take any excuse to be rid of him for a little while.

"I've brought clothes for you," he says, leaving a pouch of them on the table. "And I understand you are looking for spiritual guidance, as well?"

Hmm. It's a bit unfortunate you were so deep into the book. You didn't really get any time to think about what you were going to say to him.

You want to know what Nual has planned for you.

"I suppose I wish I knew Nual's plans for me," you sigh wistfully.

The priest chuckles, then catches himself.

"I am sorry. I hear such sentiments often. But in truth, the gods do not make plans for we mortals. Nual's primary focus is keeping the ocean flowing, so I doubt he would have a plan for you specifically, Mr. Long." He smirks a little. "Unless, perhaps, he thought you necessary to that goal. I suppose it is not for me to say he doesn't."

Then, suddenly, the priest's face takes on a strange, blank expression.

Return.

Somehow, he doesn't say it with his mouth and it sounds like rushing water.

"I was hoping to, but I don't know how. Other than the long way, but I'm really not sure I'll make it another forty or so years."

Dream, is all he replies. He's not nearly so talkative as the last time you were around him. Maybe he doesn't want future knowledge for some reason.

But you did have a dream of future events - or you will have one, you suppose. So perhaps he's telling you to expect another one. You hope that's it, because judging by the confused expression on the priest's face, Nual seems to have left.

"Pardon me," he says. "I hope I was not insensitive."

"No, it's all right. Suppose at my age, if there's something I was meant to do, I really ought to have figured it out by now."

He smiles.

"I believe that Nual will smile on you, whatever path you choose from here. And I am sure you will have many years yet to walk it. May the waters of the sea lift your vessel on your journey forward."

With that, he walks out. And now you know what you're supposed to do next - sleep.

It feels late all of a sudden, so you probably could do that. But you're having a hard time persuading yourself not to finish the book first.

You try to read the book but your mind keeps getting preoccupied with thoughts about time magic. Maybe it would help to scribble your thoughts as notes in the margins as you read.

Well, it's not that late, really. You can take an hour or two. You stopped right in the middle of Lady Madeline sneaking out onto Captain Penelope's ship after dark, and she was just caught.

Unsurprisingly, it was by her lover. You were expecting that, but that doesn't make it any less satisfying.

And as she held Penelope in her arms, Lady Madeline wished the stories of time magic were real, so that she might preserve this moment forever.

That, however, distracts you. And not simply because that's a bit over-the-top, even for a Dreamers book. It reminds you that time magic is what brought you here.

And you don't know how to manipulate it on your own. Which means, to the best of your knowledge, nobody is actually maintaining the spell. What happens if the time-aligned ether runs out? Do you simply get pulled back to your own time period... or do you get trapped here, with no way back?

Either way, you're no longer sure you have time to spare for this book. You sigh, put it down, and close your eyes. Perhaps someday you'll have a chance to find another copy.

But for now, all you can do is dream, and see what it brings you.