Monan awoke to find himself sprawled on the timbers of one of the lower decks of the ship. His cloudy mind dimly recalled hitting something hard, and then quickly lapsing in unconsciousness. Shaking his head, he picked himself up, and struggled and fumbled his way into some clothes. Dragging his feet, he stumbled up to the deck.
A swarthy young lad shoved into him, snickering as Monan stumbled about blinking. The sailors that saw this either turned back to their work, uncaring, or gave the lad encouraging looks, egging him on. The scoundrel was readying for another "accident", when suddenly Monan seemed to gain a burst of energy. The lad found himself sprawled on the deck, sailors now laughing at him.
One of the sailors decided to approach Monan.
"That'll teach him," was the remark that greeted Monan. Glassy eyes topped by salt encrusted eyebrows gazed at him.
Monan said nothing, and began to walk away."Just one second, my friend. Have you heard about the Fliers?" the sailor interrupted his escape.
"No, are they important?" Monan queried, slowly turning around, brow furrowed.
"They say that they come, if one does not arise early enough." The sailor gestured to the sun, which was almost in the middle of the sky. He wore a half bemused expression.
"But what are they?" Monan was perplexed.
"Not something that you want to meet." The sailer had tired of conversation, disregarded Monan, and went back to his duties.
Monan decided to disregard what the sailer had said, after all, it was just old tales of superstition. One has plenty of time for fantasies on the open sea, he reasoned. Throughly dissatisfied at his experiences on deck, he returned below. The hammock once again seemed an attractive option.
Lying there, listening to the sounds of the ship around him, he tried to reiterate his past. It seemed as if something was missing, because all he could remember was the ship. Any time before that, a void. He was unsure how long he'd been at sea, but that was only what he could recall. Still he tried, desperately looking for something, but to no avail.
For an instant he felt something, like a tendril brushing across his mind. Then it was gone. Feeling weary and confused, he settled down into a doze, and eventually a gentle sleep.
A frantic yell brought Monan out of his reverie. Eyes snapping open, he could hear the sounds of frenzied activity up on deck. Sailors were running about, and by the sounds of things, quite alarmed. Words filtered down to where he lay straining to listen -- "Fliers... look... coming... must be him... soon..."
A scream pierced the air, then the sound of a splash. Then almost instantly, came the sounds of chaos.
Up on deck, arrows of blazing blue fire assaulted the crew. A man lost his arm, and passed out in shock as he watched the blood spurting from his limb. Frenzied yells filled the air, and terror filled the minds of the sailors. Dark shapes flew about in the sky. Sometimes diving down, to pluck off a head of an unlucky victim. Gun shots rang out, mistimed, and ultimately missing.
The captain bellowed out, trying to restore order and calm. He was heeded by nobody, not even himself. He tried to flee, but suddenly he was frozen to the spot. Colour drained from his skin. In a brilliant flash of light, his body disintegrated, and became crystalline slivers that sparked in the light.
Anyone who was still alive to see this was captivated with fear and wonder. A new sight caught their attention. One of the shapes was perched in the sky, and emitting a ghostly noise. The noise grew louder, gaining intensity and depth. The thing's eyes, if they were that, began to glow. The humans on deck were rooted to the spot, watching the strange sight as the Flier's features were gradually revealed. It looked like a vision of a ghastly angel. A black humanoid form, with wings, but the thing lacked eyes. The twin points that were glowing, were actually nob's on it's head. The Flier had no face whatsoever.
If focused its attention on the survivors. They could not move, their frantic terror brought a sense of sadistic satisfaction to the creature. Still, it hovered there, feeding on the primeval and raw emotions of the people left on deck. Soon though, it grew bored, and seemed satiated.
The sound grew to an ultimate peak, and it pierced through Monan who was still cowering in his hammock. Suddenly, the people left on deck exploded, their bodies becoming liquid, then solid instantly. Soon after this happened, the horde of Fliers turned, and began to disappear. A great wind began to pick up, and carried the glinting remains of those dead on deck away with it. A disquieting calm settled over the vessel.
Everything was too much for Monan, who wet himself, then passed out.
Days passed, and the ship drifted across the empty sea. Monan set about exploring his new domain. Food supplies seemed to be adequate, and there was no immediate danger, apart from the odd rat, which he quickly dispatched.
Monan was on one of his routine prowls around the ship. He was near the stern, somewhere close to the captain.s quarters. For just a second, he thought he could hear a noise from behind on of the doors that lined the passage. He turned towards the sound. A discreet door set into the wall stood before him. As he put his ear to it, he felt the something brush his mind again. It wasn't harsh -- it was almost a caress. However, Monan was alerted and wanted to investigate further. He tried the handle, of course the door was locked. He tried knocking, and listened in vain for a reply. Having plenty of time on his hands, Monan went away and gathered some food. Then he sat with his back against the door -- not the smartest thing -- and began to wait. Monan, being Monan, fell asleep.
He was awoken with a jolt, as his head hit the floor. Someone had opened the door behind him. Lying on his back, he looked up into the face of a severe woman.
He blinked. She glared. Scrambling back up, Monan presented his palm as a gesture of peace.
"I am Monan, nice to meet you," he greeted lamely.
The door slammed in his face. Monan frowned.
Nara was still trying to recover psychologically from the Fliers' attack. The murderous and venomous intent of the evil creatures continued to torment her. As did the haunting sound of destruction. At times like this, she despised her ability. Being able to read intent was not always the gift it seemed. Almost every smile directed to her by the sailors masked their true intentions -- usually taking her against her will. Even if they themselves did not realise it, they screamed it to her. For this, she despised people. Especially men. To be stuck on a ship with one of them -- it did not please her. At least it was better than being stuck with a whole ship of them onboard.
This one also had an extra dimension to him, one that he himself had not explored. Although he seemed stupid and dull to her, the curious part of her wished to know more. She allowed him to bring her food, and sometimes they even ate together -- in silence. The times when he looked at her, she was always unnerved by the calmness that radiated from him. He was regarding her, and that was all.
Monan was quietly studying her. She always wore the attire of a mysterious person -- black. She was the epitome of that colour: moody, withdrawn and even dark. The only part of her that didn't seem black, apart from her creamy skin, was her yellow eyes. Monan imagined he could see an intentional pattern in her irises. He wondered what her name was.
"My name is Nara," she interrupted his daydreams. "And please stop that," she added with a uncharacteristically sardonic smile.
Monan grinned, but said nothing.
Time passed, and they lost track of time. Food was beginning to run low, and soon they would need to begin rationing. Both wondered when they would ever reach somewhere.
One afternoon, Nara was standing on the bow, gazing at the ocean about them. In the far horizon, the misty silhouette of land could be seen. They had made it.