Fatherhood and the Apocalypse

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Four: Elementals and Dragons

Fatherhood and the Apocalypse

* * *

Three days.

Three days of rowing, pausing to cough and lie limply at the bottom of an extremely uncomfortable boat. Three nights of fighting a local insect who had a hard-on for my blood. Three days of hoping desperately for a powered vessel to happen to be passing my way….

Three days of no food, no bathing, no shaving, and no booze.

The Temple City of Kusini was a blesséd sight.

It had an alien beauty I’d never encountered before. Made of sandy stone, the buildings were mostly taller than anything on Noir. Rarely vertical, they tended to slope inwards. Very few had curves of any sort. Titanic blocks, sharply outlined in black mortar, made up most of the structures. Large arched openings were everywhere in evidence. The mid-afternoon sun reflected glaringly from windows on the sides facing me. Some few seemed to be open to the air. The shaded sides of the structures revealed lights; this city had power. Other signs of technology that jarred with the whole stone age vibe of the place soon caught my notice: antennae, some overhead wires, though fewer than in Santo Mortis, even vehicles; not like the autos of my homeworld, but more elegant looking and probably more advanced.

In my current state of desperation, the city seemed a heavenly sanctuary.

Owing to the Alph’s width, I thought at first that the city was all on the west side of the river. I could just make out other buildings on the eastern shore after peering in that direction for a few moments. I considered which side I should debark on and decided the nearer one because I was too fucking tired of rowing.

Not that I really had a choice. I was exhausted. The nearer bank of the Ankh offered permanent respite from what had become a torturous exercise.

Most of the shore was lined with retaining walls of stone. I paddled up the river, arms and back screaming at me, until I saw an opening. Docks of a sort, where a few river craft, looking much more professional than mine, were docked. I headed for a clear spot.

I first noticed citizens when I was inelegantly trying to park my boat, if ‘park’ is the right word. I suspected it wasn’t.

Women, obviously. I don’t know what I expected. Hostility was what I feared. Welcome was what I hoped for.

Giggles were what I got.

A selection of younger women seemed to be lounging in a park of sorts, just behind the dock. From the backpacks and books, they were probably students. The time must have been just after school let out.

They certainly didn’t think a lone male presented a potential problem. I admired their self-confidence, while wondering if I might be in trouble. If they turned on me, there was bugger all I could do about it. I was severely outnumbered and totally fagged out.

After banging my rig against the stone of the dock and the boat to my left more than once, I managed to get it close enough to a wooden pillar to awkwardly clamber out and tie off. I managed to avoid falling into the river, but only just.

I had climbed the half dozen steps to the edge of the grass, when I finally noticed the men. There were only four of them, a pair on either side of the group of twenty or so women. Their expressions and armour made my scrotum shrivel. I hadn’t got three paces into the small park when two of them quick marched right to me.

I had my hands up before they got halfway.

Considering I looked and smelled as if I lived under a bridge, had no cash, and no I.D. they were quite gentle. Not only didn’t they rough me up, but they did me the courtesy of not humiliating me in front of the women. I was told firmly, but politely, that I’d have to come with them. They even let me clean up at a public lavatory before taking me wherever. I still looked like crap, but I didn’t stink like it. Much.

I ended up meeting with a woman who made me wish all over again that I looked more presentable. All in white, with a headscarf in tones of brown, yellow, blue, and vivid red, she had gold jewelry covering her bare arms, held in place by piercings. The overall effect left me breathless.

I tried to project as calm and dignified an air as I could. I think I succeeded, for she smiled as she greeted me in the cool, cavernous hall of the local government.

“Mr. Tranker, I presume,” here voice was contralto music. She held her arms out, palms up. I did the same. There was only a moment’s awkwardness when she gripped my elbows and I realized I had to do the same. I mirrored her bow. As we straightened, I saw those same creamed-coffee-coloured eyes and an engaging smile… “I am Akilah of the Council of Kusini. It’s good to see you in one piece.”

Wait a minute. “You know me?”

The smile broadened. She released my arms. I did the same. A nod past my shoulder and I could hear the men who brought me walking away. “The Hermetist Abram came looking for you.”

“Abram’s here?”

“Alas, no. He was called away suddenly two days ago.”

Damn! I’d missed him.

“He’ll be pleased to know you’re alive.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. I’m sure he will.”

“On that subject, I’d like to know what happened to you and how you managed to get back this far on your own. It’ll be more comfortable if we talk in my office.” Akilah gestured down the hall she had come from. Together, we proceeded.

Her office was on a corner of the building. Two adjacent, sloping floor-to-ceiling glass windows gave the impression we were on an open balcony. The sunset from this vantage was spectacular.

“Would you like some refreshment, Mr. Tranker? I doubt you’ve had a decent meal in a while.”

“Do I look that bad? Well, I guess I do. I’d love something, thank you.”

“I can arrange for quarters for you to rest and refresh after we are done. Transport offworld as well. I’m sure you’ve had a trying time.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Thank you for your generosity.”

“Not at all. Your friend Abram Hermit was quite worried about you. Having to leave so precipitously distressed him quite a bit.” Aha! So, it was the Hermetists she was anxious to placate. “Speaking of troubles. What were you doing in the South?”

I laid it out for her. About thirty seconds in, she began typing on her computer. She interrupted me with several pointed questions about my stay with the amazons to the south.

After I wrapped up, Akilah continued typing for almost a full minute, then pushed away from her desk and looked at me, eyebrows raised, forehead wrinkled, mouth turned slightly down.

“You’re worried.”

She nodded slightly. “I’d like to say I’ve never heard of this happening before.”

“You’d like to, but you can’t.” She couldn’t expect that I’d let the subtext slide.

A pause. A slight nod. She had decided to tell me something. First, a question. “How much do you know of the birth of the Templars?”

“What I learned in history class. They began as the children of Poseidon, who was supposed to have been the ruler of Atalanté, an island on Oerth.”

“That’s what I thought. Mr. Tranker, that story is true, as far as it goes, but it paints a misleading picture of the events.”

“How so?”

“Few outside the Order of Hermes know the full story, but Hyborea has been connected to the Silvergrey Sea for longer than any other world. We have records of the actual events by witnesses.” She sat up straight, eyes boring into me. “The Atalanté of the story is not the archipelago of Oerth, but another in the Silvergrey Sea.” I noted the word ‘archipelago.’ I had been taught Atalanté was just one island.

“I’ve heard rumours of land on that Sea, but that’s all they were. I have yet to find anyone who claims to know for sure.”

“Have you ever asked your friend, Abram?”

“He denied it existed.”

“And you believed him?”

“As much as I ever do when the subject of forbidden knowledge comes up.”

A smile. Akilah understood what I meant. Hell, I guess anyone who’d ever dealings with the Order of Hermes had would have, as well. “Poseidon also is real.”

Not ‘was real.’ Interesting.

“He is an entity who lives in the Silvergrey Sea. Some refer to him as the Sea God. The ten first Templars were born on that archipelago, called the Evanescents, in a ritual called the Rite of Manifestation.”

“What does this have to do with Drago? Or me?”

“Something was needed for this Rite: representatives of the five Hermetic Elements.”

“I’m not sure I understand you. Do you mean the actual Elements? As far as I remember, they are principles, not things.”

“True. Hang on; I need to consult the history.” So saying, Akilah began pecking away at her terminal again. After a moment, “It’s not online.” Looking up, “We’ll have to go to the archives. Will you come with me?”

The question didn’t require an answer, but I provided one for form’s sake. “Of course.”

The archives were deep under the building. As well appointed as everything else I’d seen, the vaults had a more primitive feel to them. The stone was the same gold-flecked tan of the exterior, but the vaulting of the ceiling and the deep, dark wood shelves gave the labyrinthine rooms a gravitas the lighter airier spaces above ground lacked.

Or maybe it was just the lack of windows.

My gumshoes were silent, but the clacking of Akilah’s leather flats echoed arrhythmically around the tall spaces.

Lighting was indirect and as white as the sun outside. It all seemed to come from ceiling level, too. It took a while for my vision to adjust so I could see the floor, slate tiles polished smooth as glass that somehow avoided being the least bit slippery for Akilah’s non-rubbery footwear. Perhaps she just had good balance.

The cool stillness was a relief to my frazzled nerves.

An alcove with a small desk, two chairs, and a lamp was where we finally stopped. A brass ladder reached the top shelves. Akilah slid it around to a spot that looked no different from any other and climbed. The fifth shelf was where she stopped, pulling out a book seemingly at random. I concluded she’d consulted this book, or at least this section, many times in the last little while.

As she began her climb down, I tried not to be a creep but ended up peeking up her shift, anyway. No panties and a very pleasant view.

I joined her at the table. She pulled a chain and the red glass lamp improved ground level visibility considerably. The book she put down must have weighed ten pounds. Leather and almost as long as my arm, I could smell that vanilla odour of an old book.

She began riffling through it, muttering something to herself. The pages looked to be made from the local equivalent of sheepskin, and it was inked in black and red with a script that looked vaguely familiar.

(At this point, you can’t really be surprised to find out I slept through most of my formal schooling.)

“Here,” Akilah stabbed a spot on the open book with long, unpainted nails. She began reading.

Nodding after a minute or so, “According to this, the Elements can be incarnated. Each one requires a different source. The Watr Element needs a Great Soul. That would have to be one in the Silvergrey Sea.”

“Wait—there are souls in the Sea?”

A nod. “The Silvergrey Sea, its sky, and the land of the Evanescents are made from souls.”

That was a lot to digest. I wasn’t sure I believed it, but disputation was unwise at this point, I decided. I could always argue it out with Abram, later. “Go on.”

“Erthe requires one from the Evanescents.”

“Lemme guess, Aer requires one from the sky?”

“Not exactly. Aer is not represented by a single entity, nor by a Great Soul. It needs…” she checked the text again, and read, “the Flyers of the Aions.”

“What are those?”

“I’ve never been sure. Any flying creature, perhaps? Maybe dragons?”

“Are there any left?”

“If any are left, they might be in the Elven Dark. The Hermetists likely know more. It could refer to the Rakesh.”

“The steeds of the Myr.” I had paid attention to some of my lessons. “They are not part of the Aions, though.”

She nodded. “True. They live in Nonspace.”

“Go on. We have two left, right?”

“Yes. Fyre and Æthyr.”

“And they would be…?”

“The Æthyr is on Oerth.”

“Really?” It only surprised me briefly. What else, after all could have driven Hermetists from their ancestral home? What else could have warranted closing the passage thereto? “And Fyre?”

“The Child of Fyre will be born here. In a few days if your story is accurate.”

“If?”

She smiled, “I’m not doubting you, but I don’t want to believe, either.”

I understood that. The implications were becoming horrific. Wait—”The Child of Fyre will be my child?” I felt sick.

A nod. No smile. A look I could only interpret as pity. “The only other time an offworlder was kidnapped specifically for breeding was to facilitate the birth of the Fyre Child.” The Minister flipped a few pages back. After reading a paragraph. “The last time, it was an offworld female. She was taken from Noir, as well.”

“So, Noir is part of this, too? Wait. Noir wasn’t inhabited that long ago.”

“Time is a slippery thing, where the Sea is concerned.”

I nodded. “True enough, I guess. But I’m not a native of Noir, either.”

“I cannot explain that. It could just be coincidence that both you and she came from the same world.”

Fat chance. No such thing in my considerable experience.

Drago, that bastard. He set me up.

But why me? I intended to have an intense ‘talk’ with him the next time we met. “Any chance we can stop this Fyre Child from being born?”

“Not really. According to the record, the last birth of a Fyre Child happened only days after conception. The birth will likely happen before we could even get there.”

“What happened to the mother, last time?”

She told me.

Never ask a question you don’t want the answer to. I really wished I hadn’t asked that one.

Thinking, ‘I’m sorry I considered cursing you, future mother of the Fyre Child. I really wish I could help you now. Did you know what would happen to you? Were you even given a choice?’

* * *

I had trouble absorbing the revelations of the day.

The Pleroma reborn.

Part of me wanted to let it happen, I must admit. This goal was not without interest.

The inevitable destruction was troubling. Plus, I wasn’t a fan of autocracy. I liked the fragmented nature of the Aions.

Minister Akilah and I had spent a little time discussing the next steps. She would alert the Kusini council of the imminent birth. Though she confessed nothing could be done about it, there was sure to be collateral damage that the city would have to brace for.

I had two options: go for help or strike out on my own and try to stop this thing. The latter meant trying to stop the incarnation of either the Æthyr or the Aer Elder. I didn’t know who or where the latter would be, so I ruled that out.

That left Oerth. How the fuck was I supposed to get there?

I spared a thought or nine for the offspring that would be born of my trial. Every time, I came back to the realization there was nothing I could do. The mother I could not save. I deduced she had likely volunteered for this. Even so—and given that I had been raped by her over many days—I felt a stinging sorrow.

I finally decided the cost of delay while I tried to talk my way into Azhure’en for help was too high.

So, I needed to find my own way to Oerth.

* * *

The Silvergrey Sea had tides taking thousands of years to ebb and flow. No world connected to it could count on keeping that connection. Records indicated that it had retreated from humanity’s home some six hundred years ago UT, almost a thousand years in Oerth reckoning. It had never been part of the Portal system. I’d heard rumors about something called Faerie Doors, used by the fæ to travel to and from Oerth, but could find no record of one outside of the synthetic Aions of the Elven Convocation. It would be easier to get to Azhure’en than to find and gain entrance to one of the worlds of Elvenhome.

There must be a way to get to Oerth because whoever was running this game would need access, as well.

There was only one conclusion: the Silvergrey Sea must be touching Oerth again.

Nothing else made sense. When I presented my deductions to her, Akilah agreed.

Others besides the Hermetists dared sail the Sea. It was a long shot, but a private ship might be willing to take me to the spot where once Oerth could be reached. The Minister arranged a ship to take me into the Sea from the docks of Kasaskini.

* * *

My trip back up the Alph took much less time than the journey down. The Hyboreans had everyone but the Hermetists beat when it came to watercraft. All the same, I almost missed by ride in the port of Phrygia.

Just about ready to leave Hyborea for the Silvergrey was the Conqueror, a lofty name for a rusty steamship but hey, I wasn’t complaining.

I stood on the dock next to her Captain, Muggeridge by name, as he supervised the loading of cargo bound for Aktunnoah, a world several days’ travel by Sea. Whitehaired, wrinkled, and muttonchopped, his face looked like a topographical map, the result of a love affair with the Demon Rum, no doubt. “Thank you for allowing me passage to Oerth—” a withering look stopped me mid-sentence.

His head nodded, ever so slightly toward the Mate, less than six feet from us. Taking the hint, I continued. “That is, for agreeing to a slight detour along the way.”

In a voice every bit as rough as his visage, he replied, “How slight a detour it will be has yet to be determined.” I’d been provided funds to pay the captain from the government in the South. I hoped what I had would cover the cost and then some. Muggeridge quoted me a percentage based on the expected increase in travel time to his ultimate destination. We dickered a bit. It was a slightly awkward conversation considering neither of us dared mention my destination, for some reason.

He finally agreed to take me on for slightly less than a piratical fee. Given the look of the man, I was a bit surprised. And I still had a wad of dosh left.

Once we got underway, I once again had to deal with my mild panic at being nowhere. I really missed Mæve.

My ‘stateroom’ was a berth in the hold. The walls might have been white once, but rust brown was now the dominant theme.

Dinner in the mess was an experience. Never was a meal better described. Good thing I still couldn’t taste food.

I had just settled into bed when a knock on the door had me wondering what fresh hell awaited.

It was the captain, I was glad to see. He had a large bottle of spirits with him and two glasses. After the first shot of what tasted like lighter fluid, I was extremely glad to see him.

We sat on either end of the bunk under the headache inducing glare of a single light, smoking and settling in with our drinks.

“Your contact mentioned Oerth when arranging your passage.”

“You silenced me rather vigorously, when I brought it up.”

“Didn’t want the Mate to hear. The crew are a superstitious lot.”

I leaned forward, glass out.

Muggeridge courteously glugged it full. “Every mariner on this Sea knows where the port of Oerth was. No one talks about it, though.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t heard the tale?”

I shook my head.

Muggeridge settled against the bulkhead. Reaching to his right, he unlatched the porthole, letting cool air in. The glass was heavily smoked and when it opened, light from the sea burst in, flickering against the partially open door. The electric light was suddenly dim. Staring at the patch of bright, he continued, “The Silvergrey Sea didn’t exactly retreat from Oerth. Not like they say, anyway. I had it from my great grandsire, who had the diary of an ancestor who saw and recorded what happened. The passage was deliberately closed.”

Hiding my doubt, I asked, casually, “Closed? How? By Whom?”

He glanced at me then; pale green eyes sparkling in the light. “A Hermetist did it. The way I heard it, the woman was part of a large fleet coming back from Oerth. Part, I say, for that ship and one other were all that remained of the entire armada. They had been on the wrong side of a battle. On the last ship to make it through, she was. My ancestor was on the ship in front of hers. They were riding through the fog. It was just beginning to clear. On the foredeck, stood this Hermetist, arms held high. Blue lightning crackled between her upraised hands. My foremother could hear it. A wind blew up from all directions straight toward the mage. Of a sudden, the fog withdrew, rushing with the wind toward her. It, she, and the ship were gone, like that.” He smacked his hands together. The sound was thunderous in the quiet. “The calm after was deafening. All mariners on this Sea know the tale. None will venture near the spot anymore.”

“They know it from you?”

He looked over. “You doubt me?” He laughed, a raspy chuckle. “Nay, I didn’t spread the tale. My great grandsire did, complete with the diary.”

“What happened to that book?”

He smiled lopsidedly. 

So. “Confiscated by our friends in the pea coats.” The captain nodded. “You said it was an armada coming back from Oerth. Whom were they going to fight? Natives?”

He held out the decanter. Again, my glass was filled. “I never knew that. The diary was mum about it.”

I had my suspicions. It was looking more likely the history I’d learned on Hyborea was true. Again, I thought about the child—my child—and what I might have to do. I wasn’t near drunk enough, suddenly.

“How close can you get me to where the transfer point was?”

Again, the laugh. “Have you not been listening, man? My crew won’t go near the place.”

“You did agree to take me, didn’t you?”

“Aye, I did.”

“So, you’re reneging?”

“No. I’ll find a way, I just don’t know how, yet. I’ll lie to the crew, if I must, but I’d rather not. I need them more than they need to crew for me. That’s if there’s anything there to find, which I doubt. I can likely get you to within sighting distance of where it used to be, with a bit of judicious fibbery. Don’t expect to find anything, though.”

“I need to get there. If my intelligence is accurate, I’ll find the way open again.”

He was already shaking his head. “You’re dreamin’, man. The way was shut by Hermetists—”

A roar rising in pitch and volume quickly made speech impossible. Muggeridge sprang from the bunk and out the door. I was half a step behind him.

* * *

A sound like the whole nation screaming woke Akilah from a deep sleep. Through the drapes to her right flickering orange light shone, strong enough to throw shadows on the fur rug. It came from the south. Something horrible was happening in the rebel cities and she was afraid she knew what.

Rising, she raced to the glass doors and onto her balcony.

The whole southern sky was afire. Below, she could hear the shouts as the city awakened to news of the holocaust. In the center of the conflagration, a white fire bloomed. It birthed a bright blue spark that shot up and arced north over the city.

The councillor stood in awe for several minutes, unable to order her thoughts in light of this disaster. The council had discussed and debated what to do when this happened. Not enough, in her view, as there was considerable skepticism about her claims.

A smaller, nagging sound eventually penetrated her dread. It was her comm.

Turning back to the room, Akilah went to answer what she was sure was a summons to an emergency council session. She would’ve been happy to gloat, were the situation not so dire.

* * *

I stood on the rail, watching a blue-white ball of fire screech overhead. It was too bright to look at directly. It fell into the Sea many miles away to the ship’s left. Seconds later, a double boom echoed from that direction.

“You may get your chance to visit Oerth after all, Tranker.”

“Why?”

Muggeridge didn’t answer because he was already shouting orders. We were to investigate the spot where that thing had landed. I understood the haste. There was no Hermetist ship in the area and they would pay well for information about what had happened. More if we could snag some physical evidence.

As the tub slowly swung around and began heading toward the spot where the missile landed, it began rocking. Large swells from the point of impact had reached us. To my normal malaise was added a touch of seasickness. It passed with the last of the waves.

The dread of the crew was marginally worse. We were investigating something that just didn’t happen here in the Silvergrey Sea. I would learn later that it was the latest in a series of such happenings.

This event and my mission couldn’t have been coincident happenings.

Wondering whether this was good news or bad, I tried to still my nerves as we approached our goal, wishing I had thought to grab the bottle before I left the room. I considered going back for it but was unwilling to take my eyes off the spot to which we were headed.

Something was happening there. A glow haloed the spot. Its colour seemed to change the closer we got. It might have been the change of perspective, but I couldn’t be sure.

I stood at the prow, feeling unaccountably nervous at what I would find; my habitual fear of being in the Silvergrey momentarily in abeyance. Something was hovering just above the waterline. As we got to within a few dozen yards, I could see a hemispherical divot in the Sea itself centered under the thing.

It as moving. It was alive.

The steamer pulled up alongside.

It was a child, glowing, and red gold in colour. Dark grey eyes looked directly into mine. Even through baby fat, I recognized some features that stared back at me from the mirror every morning.

I began trembling, heart hammering in my chest.

I knew, suddenly, what this was.

The Child of Fyre. My child.

I had been an unwilling parent, but I knew my own.

What the hell?

I had left the amazons only days before. Another grim reality predicted by that history on Hyborea.

I didn’t know the captain was beside me until I fell over him as I collapsed. “Someone you know?”

Looked up at him. “Afraid so.”

Something of my horror must have been visible on my face, for his smile disappeared. “What’s wrong, man?” He grabbed me under an arm and helped me to my feet.

“Father,” from the infant. Their voice was loud and low for a child. It had a built-in reverb. Muggeridge face showed the shock I was feeling. Behind him, his crew crowding the rail, turned toward me.

Dreading what would come next, I faced my child.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” they said.

“How did you know where I’d be?”

They responded with the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.

“How are you here? What are you?”

“I am manifest because of the Rite. I am the Child of Fyre.” As I already knew.

“Who is Drago?” I knew, of course, but due diligence demanded I confirm as much of the history as I could.

Again, the smile. I felt all my fear melt away in its wake. “He is host to the Man of Watr.”

 “Who are the others?”

“You know.” I did, mostly. “Four are manifest. One remains to be brought to being. I go now to the place of origin to fetch the Æthyr. I waited only for you.”

I was slowly recovering my sense of cynicism. “Why? What do you need me for?”

“You are the key to the Rite of Manifestation. Rejoice, for the Masters will soon be here again.”

I ignored first part. I had done all the assisting I intended to. These ‘Masters’ though. Had to mean the Templars. Another prediction confirmed. A nightmare no one needed. I asked the obvious question. “Who started this? Who would want the Templars back?”

Again, only the sunny smile. So, I would have to find out on my own.

“Why tell me this? You must know I can’t let it happen. Unless—”

“It cannot be stopped, now.”

“So you believe.”

Again, just the smile. “Goodbye, Father. I go now to Oerth. We will meet again, soon.” The child became too bright to look at. A rumble of thunder then something slammed me in the chest and knocked me back down again.

I opened my eyes and immediately saw only the familiar fog of a transition zone out of the Sea.

I again lurched to my feet, this time along with the crew.

Captain Muggeridge earned his keep. “All hands to stations!” He didn’t give his crew time to work themselves into a panic. They scrambled to obey.

“Are you going to go through?” I needed to follow my kid through to Oerth. I needed to stop the Æthyr from being freed to work the Manifestation, though I had no clue how. I could only hope Abram would soon be abreast of things.

Muggeridge gave me a long look before responding. “I think I have a duty to, but as I said my crew aren’t going to like it.”

“Can you keep them under control?”

A deep nod. “If I promise we’ll drop you and get the hell out again, sure.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you can do something.” So did I. He walked away to badger his skittish crew into action.

— Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, September 2026

© Gideon Jagged
All Rights Reserved