Tides of Battle, a tale of love, loss and adjective vomit.

I had to submit this as part of my portfolio for my English exam this year. I thought I would post it here for the lolz ...

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Tides of Battle

Thunder. Lightning. Rain. They clashed down on ivory sails. The steely sky assaulted us from above, Heaven’s chariots and seraphic arrows striking wood, cloth and flesh. There was no doubt that the sky was angry, the menacing deep turquoise glare which precedes dawn, normally chasing the darkness away, was reserved for us that day. The sky once again launched her assault, barraging us with yet more heavy artillery which blasted our faces and froze us to the very core.

However, the sky and her legions where the least of our worries, and we thought fairly little of them on that occasion. If the sky was angry, then her sister – the sea – was in a towering, unrelenting fury. The almost pleasant prickling of the heavens’ feeble offensive paled in comparison to the sweeping, splashing, shattering waves which rose high over the horizon and obscured the haven of land from my sight as I stood aboard the lower deck. Wind blasted my face, spume bit into my skin. I felt terrified, yet alive, and more alive than I had felt in what seemed to be a lifetime. The utter contempt and malice that the elements showed towards me made me curl my lip bitterly. The sky and the sea may be in a petulant rage, but their tantrum was nothing to me. Let them take umbrage with us; let them try.

Then I saw it, just over the waves for but a fraction of a second. White sails drenched – prow distorted, topmast warped. Another vessel battling the storm, a common enemy; or rather, they had been fighting, yet they were being slowly defeated as the waves engulfed the ruin of the once-proud craft. They were on the edge of destruction, and it seemed inevitable that many of the crew running around in blind panic upon her would not see the grey dawn break.

“Man the capstan!†I heard the skipper shout. I did not understand what he meant – the words were not mine to hear. I am a merchant. The talk of sailors and boatswain does not mean a thing, much as my talk of coin and trade would mean little to them. I saw the sinking ship come closer, sad sails tattered and hull beginning to flood. The sea had had her victory, how many prisoners would she now take to her deep, dark depths?

We reached the drowning vessel a few minutes later, the mast like the pale arm that gropes for air when drowning or clutches onto life after a battle. I saw men; sailors and passengers alike, running around panicking. Only a few had seen us and even they saw us as a delusion; a final vain hope created by the mind to ease their suffering in their final moments.

I looked out over the raging storm, already taking prisoners or wood, nail and life. I saw another man on the wreck staring back at me, his pale skin like moonshine but sickly as though drained of colour by the onslaught. I could see in his face and his eyes that he could not be more than three-and-twenty. The utter terror in him rooted me to the spot and as we drew closer to the ship in an attempt at rescue, it came.

A monstrous, crystalline, unstoppable wall of water launched a swift and true assault on us. The sea was furious that we should steal her victory and was determined to destroy us. I remember hearing the captain shouting, a lurch, and a twist. After that there was nothing but falling and falling and falling …

Silence enveloped me. The booming of thunder and the crashing of waves born from the battle above ceased to plague my ringing ears. I fell still further, down, and down so far no light reached me in an endless world of perpetual darkness, undulating at the will of the sea, wherever she felt need to drag her prisoner. Suddenly then, I felt it; a feeling I shall not forget until the day the Lord takes me.

Cold. Complete, penetrating, unrelenting cold sharper than a needle and more painful than the point of a thousand glittering knives stabbed through every ounce of my being. It drained me of any warmth I had dared to bring with me from the skirmishes above and bled any happiness or joy, even any anger or hate or some other emotion I had left in me, leaving only complete, utter void fill with only the feeling of coldness. I saw my wife standing in the darkness and wondered how she might be there. My question was no sooner asked than it was answered.

I saw golden gates, encrusted with diamonds and decorated with incomparable filigree as I had ever seen. Around these twined tendrils of purple-white cloud which seemed warm and inviting, like the dry land after a sea-storm or quiet repose after a long day. My wife, my dear wife, the love of my life who had been so tragically and unjustly ripped from me by the same warden who now watched over my cell and kept me captive, beckon me towards her. I felt my aching heart say†yesâ€, yet I also heard my calculating brains refuse vehemently. I wanted to go with her, every fibre of my being did, but I still had so much to do, so many dreams left unfulfilled – both of our dreams left unfulfilled. I would not - could not – allow myself to be beaten by the same army that had ambushed her all of those many years ago.

A pale hand reached out to me from the darkness to my back, shining iridescently like starlight in that umbral mantle. I turned to take a hold of it, turning my head only to glance back one last time at my love. She was smiling. I walked back into the darkness, away from the gates and smoke, back to life, and to light, and the battle, now resolved, above.

The young man grabbed my arm tightly, and together we worked, him pulling, me attempting to assist, yet to no avail, the sea still would not let me escape from her jaws.

“Come on!†he shouted, “Help the man up!†His voice echoed redolent in my mind, like the ball that signals noon-time or the first call of the bird at dawn. A few more men gathered around the lifeboat, and with our combined strength, I finally escaped the clutches of my captor.

I sat in the lifeboat. The sea had calmed slightly, and the sky’s barrage had ceased. I don’t remember much after that until I saw the captain, relieved to see me alive, not because he was a friend, but because the death of a merchant on a voyage does not bode well for one’s reputation.

“How many are lost?†I coughed, wondering how many wives would not see their loves again.

“From us, five. From the others … ten.†He said strictly, as usual, yet I swear I detected a waver in his voice.

Between the two vessels, we had lost a quarter of our original number. The sea had won this battle, and we were but the pale survivors, leaving that place for port as the sun rose red and mourning over the battlefield.

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Unintentional near death/out of body experience for the win ^^;;

CnC is appreciated, but mostly I'm just glad you read it ^^.​

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