Aftermath – The Survivors Regroup

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Five: The Best Laid Plans

Aftermath – The Survivors Regroup

* * *

Drago didn’t know how he had survived unless luck or Poseidon had something to do with it.

Having barely made it through the ragged edges of the Portal, his mount vanished from beneath him, whether dead or merely blown away by the force of the explosion, he never knew.

Riderless, the Watr Man continued in an arc through a hail of crystal shrapnel and into the Silvergrey Sea. He saw the Sea God as a web of light to his right before he hit the Water.

It seemed familiar and horrifying at the same time. The stuff of the Sea filled his lungs and his sense of up and down disappeared. To distract himself from the thousand questions he had, Drago spent some moments trying to discover where the surface was and, finding it, fought his way to what passed for air in this weird dimension.

The Watr Man broke the surface and looked for the scene of the action. It wasn’t hard to find.

Bits of shattered mountain were still raining down into the Sea along with chunks of people. The latter must have been close to or even on the mountain when blew. The dead and dismembered were likely among those who had destroyed the mountain of solidified energy. Some of them had not made it clear in time.

The Sea God seemed annoyed. The web of coherent light lunged toward the source of its Working hoping, it seemed, to stop the disintegration. Hugging the mountain, it appeared to be trying to hold the bits together. The futility of this effort must have registered for, between one heartbeat and the next, Poseidon was gone.

It was at this point that Drago noticed the Silvergrey was less than calm. The waves, which were usually under a foot high, were now several feet. The swells lifted him more than a body length into the air. Things got more violent by the moment as more Primal Matter rained down into the Sea. Soon, it would be hazardous even for one such as he to remain. Drago began to stroke toward shore.

It wasn’t an easy task. Several times, he lost sight of the nearest island and ended up heading in the wrong direction. Finally, he was able to grasp a jagged purple rock outcrop and pull himself out of the water.

Drago was almost clear when he was grabbed under the arms and pulled the rest of the way out. “Well, well, well—Drago, as I live and breathe.” It was the Hermetist, Abram.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. Should I be glad or afraid?”

“Any help or information you can give will be most appreciated. ‘Glad,’ I think, is what you should be.” He was smiling grimly under his wide-brimmed hat.

“I’d like to know a few things, myself. How about we share info?” Drago noticed the glowing glass rod in his hand. “Had a promotion, have you?”

The new Mercurius nodded, holding up the Rod of Office. “Come on.” He gestured the Element to follow him.

The pair journeyed a few hundred yards over rocky, violet stone to a gathering of a few dozen Hermetists. Drago noticed the Elects among them.

“Report,” Abram said, when they arrived.

“No sign of the Helen Hermit. Missing thirty-seven others,” answered the Kokkinos.

Abram looked to the remnant of the mountain of Primal Matter. Of the Sea God, there was no sign. It was too much to hope that he had been killed, or even seriously inconvenienced. His withdrawal from the field was a mystery. Poseidon certainly could have made life difficult for the survivors.

Bits of crystalline energy were still fountaining up and away from the wreckage. Some were descending toward the Hermetist gathering. The matter deflected some five yards over their heads—someone was on the job of keeping the survivors relatively safe.

“This—” pointing at him—”is Drago. He is the Watr Man.”

A murmur from the crowd.

To Drago, “Do you know where the other Elements are?”

From the Albedo. “Did any of them make it through?”

“I doubt it. I was the first through from Prazhski.”

“You were on Oerth.” From Abram. It wasn’t a question. “That makes sense.”

“What do you know of the plans of the Manifestors?”

“Almost nothing.”

“Have you seen Harry Tranker?”

“He was being carried by the Fyre Child. They were very near the Portal when the mountain exploded. Your work, I presume.”

Abram nodded, frowning. “We can safely assume the other Elements are stuck on Oerth.” He glanced at the sky of the Silvergrey. A few dragons were circling at a safe distance from the dissolving peak. “For the most part, anyway.”

“Do you think Mr. Tranker might still be alive?” He was crucial to both the Sea God and Drago’s own plan.

Abram looked directly at the Watr Man. “Hard to say. The Fyre Child almost certainly survived. Elements are quite difficult to harm, according to the Lore. If Harry was in proximity to Fyre, it may have given him some protection.”

“What now?”

Abram looked at Drago, then at the Elects. After a silent conference, “We need to keep a watch here for the return of Poseidon. Also, for any Elements that might have got through.” He looked up at the still circling dragons. “The surviving dragons will need to be recalled to Azhure’en. And…”

Red, “Someone will need to go to Oerth.”

“Why?” Drago asked.

“Some Elements are certainly there. They will need to be dealt with; else we’ll end up doing this again.”

“Mr. Tranker?”

To that, none had an answer.

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, October 2026

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