A Soldier's Life - 417 - Sanctuary (minor edit 7-5-25)

Chapter 417: Sanctuary

It was half a day before the ship set sail. The Salty Widow’s hold was filled with crates of provisions and supplies. Their flag had a black background with a golden burst behind a white skull. It lacked the dagger stabbed into the skull, which represented the Death Hunters. According to our lessons, that flag protected them from harassment by other nations and pirates.

The crew looked sparse for such a large ship, but they were efficient and experienced. We eventually discovered that every member was a Sentinel, most having served for decades. Most had a tattoo of the sigil on their upper arm or the back of their neck, but a few displayed a less permanent symbol, a silver chain with the gold starburst and a silver skull.

From talking with the crew, Blaze learned that the vessel made two trips a year to gather supplies and recruits, one to Nausis and one to the city of Bubenge on the other continent. There were actually two Death Hunter Citadels on the other continent: Iron Vigil on the East Coast and Nethergate on the West Coast.

Lesna learned they also didn’t just have six weather mages on board; there were a dozen other mages among the crew as well. To her dismay, she learned this by being caught sneaking about the ship while invisible. Those mages mainly handled supply procurement when they docked. The sailors outnumbered the mages two to one, but it was still surprising to find a ship this large with barely over sixty total crew members. In our first few days aboard, I counted only six humans among the entire crew, three of whom served in the galley. The rest were elves and a scattering of dwarves.

We quickly established a routine as we did our best to integrate with the sailors and mages. I spent my nights in the dreamscape, adding tomes to the library there and sparring with my manifestations. Solvar had a lot to offer the other manifestations. His combat style differed from fighting humanoids and beasts. It was highly defensive and focused on targeting joints to disable the undead. While not entirely applicable to fighting the living, it gave me a different perspective on martial combat.

At dawn, we joined the crew in the galley. The ship only served two meals a day, one at dawn and one at sunset, which had Benito complaining. After eating, my companions and I practiced with some of the crew on deck, under the first mate’s direction, training for repelling attacks. The crew mainly had to fear sahuagin raids and sea monsters. Even sea monsters left us alone because the hull was embedded with runes that let the ship pass through waves unnoticed by most.

After the joint practice, I spent time with Evie and Lesna in their cabin working on spellcraft. Evie had a myriad of daily progressions to go through to help her awareness with death essence. Then Lesna helped us both work on our aether shaping. The Hierophant had actually been impressed with Evie’s ability to twist her aether into threads, and was surprised when Evie told her Lesna taught her the skill. Just like Castile, the elf commander had trouble learning the new method and found it tediously slow for writing out spell forms, even if it did greatly enhance their potency.

My companions and I had a late afternoon meal together, served from my dimensional space, and we discussed what we had learned from the others on the crew and prepared for the expected rigors of our future training. The extra meal placated Benito, but I was reasonably sure that this long voyage would deplete my stores.

The afternoons we spent in the cabins as the sun beat down harshly on the deck. We studied a little when we felt motivated, but mostly played cards or board games. Benito knew a dozen variations of every dice game and card game there was. It wasn't something I thought Evie needed to learn, but she was good at them and loved winning. It did bring some sense of normalcy to our lives.

There were four others who had joined the voyage as recruits. They were all of elven heritage, with two being pale-skinned and two dark-skinned. The latter were brothers, Tharion and Naerion, from an island in the northeast. They were not very talkative, but Blaze managed to find out their village had been swarmed by shadows, and fewer than a dozen survived. They were headed to the Sentinels to hone their limited magic ability to hunt the undead. After about a decade on training, they planned to return and join the Death Hunters on the continent. That made me leery of how long it would take Evie to master her magic.

The other two elves, Orendir and Velkryn, had different reasons for their journeys. Orendir was old for an elf, likely over eight hundred years—if I had to guess. He wanted to spend his final centuries with purpose and chose to join the Death Sentinels. He also had a daughter among their ranks, with whom he had corresponded for centuries.

Velkryn had a different reason, which I learned during the evening meal. I sat at his table in the galley with Evie and introduced us. “Velkryn, right? This is Evie, and I am Eryk. I thought I’d take a moment to talk with you since we will be learning together at Sanctuary.”

The elf was lean but muscular, and his shiny chestnut hair was always messy when I saw him at meals and on deck. His hands were also callused, so I assumed he was a warrior. “Unlikely,” he said without malice. “I am planning to study under the master artificers.”

“Master artificers?” I questioned.

“The Sentinel artificers are some of the best in the world,” the elf said reverently. “I plan to learn from them for a century or two before returning to Esenhem and opening my own business.”

“Do they create weapons and armor?” I asked, now very interested.

The elf got enthusiastic, waving his spoon as he talked. “Armor, weapons, wands, wards, and many other devices. They equip the Sentinels and Death Hunters and are responsible for monitoring the Isle of the Dead for escapees.”

“What skills do you need to become an artificer?” I asked as Evie’s attention strayed from the conversation.

“Most of us start as smiths. Being able to work metal is probably the most important skill, but there is a fair amount of metallurgy, alchemy, rune etching, gem cutting, and wire smithing.” Velkryn pulled out a folio he carried with him and enthusiastically showed me his sketches and notes. His primary interest was in creating an efficient water condenser, something that could be used to pull water from the air during dry spells for farmers.

I had been planning to request to study under the alchemists, but I already knew some smithing, and the idea of being able to craft artifacts appealed to my creative side. As Velkryn discussed his craft, I was somewhat discouraged because it took him months to craft a single complex artifact. Some of the work the artificers did at Sanctuary involved studying dungeon artifacts and trying to replicate them. That was nearly impossible since the runes were usually so fine and complex. Rings for one were next to impossible for even the most skilled artificer.

It took seventy-two days to reach the Isle of the Dead, with sixty of those being in the open sea with no land in sight. It was an uneventful voyage with the only harrowing experience being when a leviathan surfaced a half mile off our starboard. The massive creature just appeared to be rotating its body above the waves like it was sunbathing. It did emit a fishy scent that seemed to cling to the Salty Widow for the next few days, but that was a sacrifice the captain was willing to take, as we never saw the creature again.

It was a relief when land was spotted, even though we knew it was infested with undead. The Isle of the Dead was not what any of us expected. The rocky shore had pristine white sand beaches and dense tropical vegetation further inland. It didn’t look like the desolate land we all thought it would be. Durgin came to stand with us at the rail.

“Looks peaceful, doesn’t it? Look again. Do you see any birds, crabs, or anything alive?”

We all studied the shoreline as the Salty Widow ran parallel to it. “No,” Benito answered for us.

“Ay, and you won’t until the sun sets. Then the corrupted life comes out. Creatures tainted with death essence prefer the dark,” Durgin said gravely.

“Why don’t they leave the island? What contains them?” Blaze asked.

“Thought you took the classes,” Durgin said, disappointed.

“We only had nine weeks. The instructors said it takes a whole year to review everything for each class,” Blaze said unperturbed.

Durgin acknowledged the limits of our education with a grunt. “The creatures need the nether essence that seeps up to the surface from the island’s dungeons. If they stray too far from them, they starve and lose cohesion,” Durgin said gravely.

“Some creatures will develop an aether core to create their own nether aether, and they can leave the island,” I said, having learned that from Evie’s lessons with the Hierophant.

The dwarf first mate nodded, “Ay, they can. That is why we Sentinels closely monitor the island. We intercept anything trying to escape.”

“Why don’t they just destroy the dungeons?” Benito asked in one of his rare, brilliant questions. I already knew the answer to the question, but I let Durgin answer.

“The greater undead that live on the island don’t appreciate us meddling. The last time the Sentinels tried to destroy one of the dungeons, the intelligent, greater undead banded together and attacked the expedition.” His voice darkened. “We lost more than fifty Sentinels that dark day. A loss that took a century to recover from. Now we only watch and react.”

We sailed around the island, which appeared to be paradise from afar, to reach Sanctuary. The southern reaches of the Isle of the Dead rose in towering volcanic cliffs with violent waves crashing against them. High atop the cliffs were castles carved out of stone, and some of them even had smoke bellowing from chimneys. “How do we get up there?” Benito asked.

The dwarf barked a laugh. “Boy, you don’t want to go there. That is not Sanctuary. Those are the domains of some of the most powerful undead beings on Desia. They don’t usually receive guests—blazes, they don’t even receive each other often.” The dwarf turned Benito around and pointed to a jagged spire of rock jutting out of the ocean, about two miles from the cliffs, a good distance away from the island. “That is Sanctuary, boy.”

As we sailed toward the mountain extending from the ocean, it quickly grew in size. The rock jutted up at least half a mile above the white churning sea beneath it. I noticed large sections of stone flattened and covered with salt. I knew those sections hid powerful runes underneath from the lectures at Veilmark. Atop the stone pillar were many small buildings that made up a town, but they looked small from our perspective. That was Sanctuary.

It looked dangerous to sail close to the rocks surrounding the base, but as we sailed to the other side, an inlet was visible through the dangerous churning waters. All six of the weather mages went to the bow to calm the waters and guide the Salty Widow to its home port. The water stilled under their combined efforts, and the vessel was pulled forward by an unseen force since there was no wind.

The walls of the fortress towered ominously to either side of us, and I could see several structures built into them. I guessed they were defensive, but I didn’t see any weapons or people stationed at the balconies.

Inside the protected bay, the water only rippled from our hull. A dozen small cutters were docked at stone piers, along with a sister ship to the Salty Widow that looked like it had seen better days. When we got close, I could make her Elvish name on the bow, The Mourning After. I guess that was Sentinel humor, but I was more engrossed with our new, temporary home.

Staircases carved into the stone led to the top of the stone spire. Other sections were carved out for buildings, and I could see people working as they climbed the stairs carrying goods. As soon as we docked, a choreographed unloading of supplies began with the dockworkers.

Durgin barked, “Guess it's my turn to take the new volunteers to Sanctuary. Follow me, and don’t stray. The High Sentinel likes to inspect the new arrivals.”

The dwarf, despite his stout legs, went up the stairs with enthusiasm and endurance, forcing us to match his pace. We passed a few Sentinels on the steps, who cast us curious glances, but we didn’t have time to stop and introduce ourselves. When we reached the top, we saw cultivated gardens scattered among the buildings. I guessed they grew some of their food, and the rest was likely used for alchemy, like at Veilmark.

The oddest thing was the children playing among the paths. It was expected, as the Sentinels were not celibate, but it was an odd sight, knowing the corruption of the Isle of the Dead nearby. Durgin walked confidently to the north side of the plateau and into a tower that had the best view of the Isle of the Dead to the north. The first floor was a large reception room with an impressive conference table. Several individuals appeared to be engaged in a discussion, turning to face us. It was clear who the High Sentinel was as he was at the center of the seated group of fifteen individuals.

I was somewhat in shock as I recognized two of the others who were seated at the table. Benito elbowed me, “Isn’t that…” Blaze shut him up with his elbow. Durgin stepped forward to introduce us…

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