The bottle (closed)

[Maeve]

(takes place after the chat with Dim-Dim...)

Barefoot, the rest of Dim-Dim’s conjured up bottle of ale in her hand, Maeve silently trailed down the narrow path that led to the beach. The sorceress couldn’t believe she was actually going back to that miserable disheartening spot, but it seemed she was drawn to the dark ocean like a moth was drawn to a flame. Deep inside, she realized she was still desperately trying to get back to the crew and the closest way to getting that job accomplished was by reaching out to them through the ocean…

Guided by the silver rays of the moon, Maeve strolled down the beach until water crashed at her feet and instead of sitting down, decided to walk along the shore line to keep her mind somewhat active. Raising the ale bottle to the ocean, a slight smile curved her lips.

“Bottoms up, sailor!” The sorceress then took a sip, sadly realizing that the stiff drink was providing her little comfort.

Maeve sighed. A year... A whole miserable year had passed during which she had been drained of her essence. She had been pushed into an abyss without warning and she was still struggling to find her way back to the top. But how can you climb out of an endless pit? Sensing she was about to slip into a gloomy trance again, Maeve shook her head, took another gulp of ale and forced herself to concentrate on the rather more cheerful year she had spent with the crew. She had sailed on the Nomad for about the same amount of time she had been trapped in this agonizing realm and yet she felt like she could write the story of a lifetime with only the memories of her friends…

A family…That’s what she had found when she had stepped onboard the Nomad, a family of wonderful friends sticking together through the good and the bad, sharing tears and laughter, facing death and many dangers but making it out alive in the end, stronger than before. Maeve truly cherished the bonds she had formed with every single member of the crew. Each one of them, in their own way, had taught her that life was not all about pain, loneliness, trickeries and deceits, but so much more!

Doubar, Firouz, Rongar…

Maeve smiled sadly at the recollection of the warm faces…They had showed her what friendship and solidarity were all about, she had learned to smile and care, she had discovered the extent of valuing somebody’s life more than she did her own, but most importantly, she had learned to trust…

Maeve’s thoughts first wandered to the first mate…The big joyful man had always been like a big brother to her and the sorceress had quickly grown fond of the fraternal comfort and attention he seemed to grant her. His affectionate eyes bearing strength and softness, his bone-crushing bear hugs that left everyone breathless, his soothing and confident voice… Doubar’s thunderous laughter echoed in her mind, bringing a smile to her face. She missed him dearly…

Then there was Firouz…The brilliant scientist who always had an invention hiding up his sleeves! The man had never ceased to amaze her with his creativity and thirst for knowledge. The sound of his passionate voice when demonstrating a new device, his furrowed brow when he realized he had done some miscalculations, his endless lectures beginning with a sharp Point of fact that would drive Doubar crazy…Maeve truly missed the scientist and the debates they often had over magic and science…

Maeve’s thoughts then drifted to Rongar…From the very beginning, the silent man had been a true gentleman, proving her that not all sailors were mere brutes like she had believed them to be. He was a mix of agility, elegance and mystery and the steady calmness he displayed had always mesmerized her. Countless times one of his swift daggers had saved her life and Maeve really missed having the Moor’s protective figure watching her back…

Maeve stopped walking and faced the dark ocean, still smiling at the recollection of her long lost companions. But her face grew serious again.

Then there was him…

Maeve angrily took one last sip of ale.

He had taught her to love…

Suddenly annoyed with the ale that was doing absolutely nothing to help her, the Celtic sorceress threw it in the sea.

Then the most curious thing happened…

The bottle collided with the invisible prison walls of the realm…and made it through!

“What the-” Maeve frowned, surprised and puzzled. Immediately recollecting her senses, she walked further into the sea until the water reached her thighs. Squinting in the darkness, she could clearly see the bottle peacefully floating away on the other side.

In a heart beat, Maeve started swimming toward the wall with a slight tinge of hope that she would get through herself. But as she half-expected it, she met the magical resistance. Grunting in frustration, she hit the wall with her fist.

“How did you get through?” Maeve said through gritted teeth, bewildered but so much more annoyed at the fading sight of the bottle that almost seemed to be viciously smiling back at her. Glancing sideways and up and down the wall, looking for some sort of breech, Maeve grumbled when her fingers found nothing but resistance.

Giving up, she kicked the invisible barrier once more and swam back to the shore, wondering about what had just happened.

[Sinbad]

As Maeve swam back to the shore, the bottle made it further and further out into the sea, being a bottle of course being unaware of the distress it had caused, hopping up and down the calm waves away from the Hidden Realm.

*****

On his routine morning check up (which he had done once already since he had not slept, but well, it couldn´t harm to make sure things around his beloved ship were fine), Sinbad had just stepped out of the galley again, leaving Doubar and Bryn in the odd mood they were obviously in, shaking his head in a mix of irritation and amusement as he stepped up to the deck and began the routine of checking sails and ropes and the side walls of the Nomad for possible leaks. With the calm waters they had been sailing lately there was little risk that anything was wrong, but one never knew. He did a glance towards the horizon where the port of Basra was no clearly visible, an hour ahead at the most, sea birds circling the sandbanks close to the shore.

Then, to finish the job, he leant over the reeling for one last look along the side of the ship and was about to draw back when he became aware of a soft clinking sound at the side of the ship. Looking back over the side of the ship once more, he saw what it was: a bottle.
The captain scowled slightly, then gave a soft sigh. Probably one of the younger ones had simply dumped it off board … even though he had not been away that there was still bottled ale left.

He could have merely let it drift past and not bother, but following his gut feeling (and as he would have told everyone who had asked him about it, because he was sure it was just that: his responsibility as captain), he got one of the slings that were kept nearby. A long stick with rope at the other end, made in a way that one could pull the sling tight from the other end and therefore one of Firouz´ more practical inventions, snatched the bottle with the sling and pulled it on board. These young ones… He gave the bottle a look and weighed it in his hand then turned around and raised an eyebrow at one of the cabin boys close, by a rather young one, feeling reminded of the little tale Doubar had just told.
“How often do I have to tell you not to trash the sea?” he asked, but didn´t wait for a reply. Instead, he walked past the boy who was still trying to come up with an excuse (he was too young and unexperienced to dare and contradict the captain) and went back to his cabin where he got his sword and some of the coins that were left from their last cargo trade, placed the bottle in a random corner, not thinking about it any longer. Then he returned to the deck to take over the tiller.

[Maeve]

Soaked from head to toe and fuming at the injustice afflicting her, Maeve flopped down on the sand as soon as she reached the shore. Brushing the wet fiery curls away from her quizzical brow, she attentively studied the wall’s perimeter, trying to understand his curious mechanism. The bottle had gone through, she was sure of it. But how? Why?

The bottle didn’t have anything special in particular except that it had been conjured up by magic and Maeve wondered if it was perhaps the fact that is was an inanimate object that provided its benevolent escape. To verify her theory, she stood up, picked up a small rock lying nearby and tossed it in the sea, watching as it penetrated the wall as easily as a knife slicing butter. The sorceress let out a loud sigh of defeat. Great!, she though sarcastically, now all I need to do is turn myself into a rock!

Running a hand in her hair, Maeve lowered her head miserably, cursing herself. How could I be so stupid? When the bottle had crossed the wall, for a brief moment a morsel of hope had arisen within her, and she had been foolish enough to try and grasp it. Foolish.

There was no way out and she knew that all too well. To believe she still had a chance was destroying her…Hope was something her heart and her soul couldn’t endure anymore...

Facing the ocean with a defeated brow, Maeve suddenly noticed the sun far in the horizon, leisurely beginning his ascension in the rosy sky. It was the third night in a row she hadn’t slept.