The galley caught strong winds soon after leaving Sheld. The strong winds brought rain though—days upon days of it. Therelin and Kren had expected to be tasked with working on rigging or scrubbing the deck. Instead they earned their passage by working with buckets to remove excess water from the nooks of the ship that did not drain. As they sailed around the low, sandy shores of the Mallago Waste, the storm grew worse.
Bombarded by tilting gales and sudden gusts, their galley soon sought out the safety of an inlet, dotted by shore-side boulders. It did not provide much protection against the storm, but at least the crew didn’t risk their lives on the top deck as they waited out the worst of the week-long squall.
During the worst of that particular storm, Kren suggested they teleport away, seeking safety. Therelin looked at him sharply, so Kren forced a laugh as though it had been a joke. They both knew it hadn’t been. Fortunately for Kren, the rains parted the next day. Whatever extra speed the winds had earned them, their storm-sheltering had cost them—nonetheless, they were soon underway once more.
Therelin spent his days reading from a book that Selaara had given to him. The chronicle mostly focused on the rise of the new Empire of Noress from the ashes of their previous greatness. Despite its historical tone, the book diverged frequently to offer tidbits of advice on magical abilities, such as those used by the denizens of Var Nordos over the centuries since the Orrish.
Kren and he trained, when they could. Often it was conducted in the privacy of their quarters, after their hours of helping the sailors. These training sessions were simple focus exercises or tasks that could quietly be limited in the small space. When the weather conditions allowed—for the storms were still frequent and harsh—they trained on the deck. Kren was teaching Therelin to manipulate a sword with magic, even before he had procured his own weapon. In those bouts, Kren would attempt to hit Therelin with his scabbard, while Therelin affected the wind or the weight of Kren’s makeshift weapon in order to avoid or displace his opponent. It was useful training that Myandin had never conducted with him.
Of the persistent rain, the crew of the galley only said that a hurricane was forming somewhere past the Grey Sea. Therelin remembered several passing over Keth during his lifetime, but it had only been three years since the last hurricane drove torrential storms across the Grey Sea. He hoped it would dissipate soon—if any cities on the Raderan coast were mounting an offensive against Tarro’s bandit fleets, the storm could mean disaster.
Therelin’s dreams were plagued by war and violence, or by the panicked shouts on the Isle of Dusk. When he awoke each morning, he wondered how many days it would be before they reached Noress-That-Was. His father might pray to the spirits, but Therelin didn’t think they would answer. Instead, he simply considered what answers he might find about Tarro in their destination, or how he might continue to aid the magicians in Sheld if he could not find the answers they all sought.