Caliban awoke from his slumber in the crystal garden, as pressure began to build up around him. Like two great plates pushing on each other, he was being forced out of the geode. He did not want to go yet. The young djinkin had not felt this good in his whole life. By completing the vessel, he had connected the geode directly to the elemental Plane of Earth. Every inch of Caliban had been flushed full of elemental magic. He had never felt so whole and powerful before. The feeling was amazing.

He used his saturated essence to hang on for a few more minutes but soon the pressure turned to pain. He had reached the limit of time he could remain with the newly created vessel. No matter how much he may wish otherwise, he had to leave. Letting go, the stone boy slipped free of the vessel and landed back on the Mortal Plane.

The moment his body landed on the wooden ground; terror filled every cranny of his small body. He was adrift in a void of nothingness. There was no earth beneath his feet. He cast his seisming out and could feel nothing anywhere. There was no stone or dirt anywhere with the range of his senses, except tiny chips of metal here and there. There was nothing of substance for at least a mile in any direction. Caliban felt blinded having lost one of his senses. His ebon eyes could still see even in the pitch-black space he was in but there was nothing he cared to see. There were crates and barrel sitting on a floor of dead wood. More lifeless timbers shaped slightly curved walls. He could not see through the walls since his eyesight was blocked by organic materials but his seisming felt nothing but emptiness past the wooden shell he was in. That meant there was nothing but air or water out there. The djinikin’s innards twisted into knots as he began to panic.

Air was fine but water would kill him. The oily substance leached away his essence. Given that he sank like the stone he was, all it would take was for the flimsy wood under him to crack and he would drop straight down into that endless consuming deep. Caliban spread himself out as much as he could on the timbers praying to the Stone Mother that they would not shatter like a crust of ice. Unable to stop himself, the boy cried. Hovering over that deadly void broke any control he had. Pebbles fell from his eyes, plinking onto the frail boards of the ship’s hold as he sobbed in terror.

“Pete’s sake!” a deep, guttural voice exclaimed from above him. “What in the Nine Hells is that?”

A second later the wooden floor he was on bounced and something heavy landed next to him. Caliban whimpered, terrified the large form landing next to him would crack open the untrustworthy decking. Something grabbed hold of the back of his neck and tried to lift him off the planks.

“Hag’s bags it’s heavy. Berkgo, get down here and help me.”

A second mortal joined the first. Between the two of them they hauled the boy up to get a look at him. A lantern was passed down since mortal eyes needed light to function. Caliban watched them as they got a look at him. The first mortal had green skin and a great mane of black of hair. One of her front teeth was so long it hooked out and over her upper lip. The one the woman had named Berkgo was scaled like a lizard or a dragon. Caliban thought his bright golden eyes looked like beautiful balls of amber.

“He’s made outta stone, Sorres,” the draconic sailor announced.

“Well, no crap, Berk. Why the hell do ya think I called you down here?” Looking upward, she shouted to the faces looking into the hold. “Timson, toss down a line. Make it a strong one. This short bugger is heavy.”

Caliban was afraid to do anything. He watched the mortals loop the line under his armpits and tie it. He was then lifted into the air. Fear filled him again. If they dropped him, he would surely crash straight through the fragile wood and plunge into deadly water below. They managed not to lose their hold on rope or him as they levered him onto the moonlit upper deck.

Looking around Caliban saw he had been pulled up into a world of utter nightmare. As far as the eye could see were churning toxic waves of slithering water. It was as if the whole surface of the world was some vile deadly ooze, wriggling and folding in on itself. Any second now he was sure it would lash out and drag him off the tiny wooden island he was floating on. Caliban scrambled to get back down into the dark hold but mortal hands held fast against his struggles. Horrified, he lashed out with his magic. He focused on the metal buckles two of his captors wore on their waists and shoved. His power launched the two in opposite directions. One of them slammed into a railing and slumped to the deck. The other flew over the rail and disappeared into the night darkened sea.

“Great Deeps. Did ya see that?”

“What the hell is this thing?”

“Who cares! Toss it overboard!”

Those words were what Caliban feared more than even his own terrible father. He grabbed hold of the metal they all wore and pushed and pulled the bits of steel and silver in every direction. He mashed their faces together using the ornamental chains they wore around their necks. He yanked them off their feet and nailed them to the deck by driving their knives straight down into the wood. Some he sent to the waves. The rest he threw into the mast or cabin walls or each other. When he was free of the hands, he dove for the open hole that would take him back to the dark hold.

Stolen story; please report.

Unfortunately, the tusked sailor was coming up as he tried to head down. With a snarl, she smashed her fist straight into the boy's terror-stricken face. Caliban had never been hit that hard before. Bright flashes of light exploded across his vision. Stunned, he reeled backwards, off balance. A second later something heavy was cracked over his skull, dropping him into black insensibility.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He awoke bound and blindfolded. The cloth blocked his sight but Caliban was fine using his other senses. He seised the separate pieces of metal the mortals wore. He used his earth-sense to count the sailors around him. It was hard if they stood too close together, but djinkin guessed there was around twenty or so of them. Most of the mortals were crowded around him but a few were standing further away.

“What ya think it is?” gold tooth asked.

“Ain’t never seen nothing like it,” answered brass buttons.

“Ya should kill it, Sorres,” iron hook snarled. “We almost lost Uundo and Daveys. It broke Kerk's leg. Hell, ya busted yer hand on its mug. It's a bad one, I say.”

“We ain’t gonna kill it, Sarms,” the orc replied. “If ain’t none of us never seen one before, then it’s rare. If it’s rare then we can sell it for a whole pot of doubloons. We don’t kill what can make us rich.”

“Unless it sinks us. Them coins ain’t gonna do us no good if that thing gets us all killed.”

“Button that lip, Sarms! Unless you a challengin’ me.”

“You know I ain’t, Sir. I just don’t like it. Don’t like it one bit.”

“So, little man,” Sorres said, her face close to his own. “What the Hoary Hells are ya doing on the stowin’away on the Wailing Witch?” Caliban hesitated and received a slap across his head as a prompt. “Ye almost got some oh me boys lost to briny deeps, so I ain’t in the mood ta ask ya nice again. Spit it out or we start seeing what yer made of.”

“I don’t want to be here either,” the boy replied. Caliban’s voice was surprisingly deep for such a small figure and it sounded much like rocks grinding together. He did not need to breathe but he could draw in air to form sounds like mortals did. “I thought that man was bringing me back to the desert, not sending me out into Hell.”

“Well, you sure got goin’ the wrong ass direction," the woman scoffed. "So, what are ya? Are ya a gnome?”

Gnomes were small elemental creatures. They were made of stone, much like Caliban, but the tallest of them were only about a foot tall. Mortals hunted gnomes. They enslaved Caliban’s little cousins to find veins of metal in the earth that they would then hack out the ground with their crude methods. Caliban was not sure if he was better off pretending to be something they knew about or not. There was no such thing as a three-foot-tall gnome. Then again, there was never supposed to be a half-djinn at all.

“Sort of,” he grumbled. It was the best he could think of and he could see they were getting ready to smack him again.

“That ain’t too clear. Are ya or aren’t ya?”

“Then I aren’t. Gnomes can move through earth the way you all move through air. I can’t do that.”

“But can ya find treasure? Can ya tell where gold is?”

“Sure,” he admitted. He needed a reason for them not to throw him overboard. Still, it might be better if they did not know exactly how his seisming worked. “If you don’t cover my eyes like this.”

“We should take him to Cragmakkar. The dwarves there id buy him.” brass buttons exclaimed excitedly. “Remember Old Tay Bander. He once sold them a gnome and got set up for life.”

“We’re a long way from Cragmakkar, Steebo,” the dragon-like Berkgo stated. “There are dwarves near Tos Alsley where we are headin’. We can try an sell em there.”

“If we make it there with the jinx like that aboard.” the hook-handed Sarms muttered.

“We ain't making it anywhere with the sheets flapping like a granny’s old titties,” Sorres snapped at the crew. “So, everyone get ta yer stations. Let’s get the Witch right and we can figure what ta do with our guest in the morn. Move it!”

Caliban seised the bits of metal dashing off in different directions, none more than a dozen or so yards away. Sorres still stood over him, as did Berkgo.

“Think he’ll be trouble?” the scaled man asked.

“Nah, I got an itch that says he is gonna bring us barrels o’ bounty and ye know how much I trust my itches. We gonna by rich, Berky ol’boy.”

“If ya say so, Sir. I have ta admit, I ain’t never heard of nothin’ like it. Good side, it's got value but flip side, makes me nervous. If'n Timson hadn’t brained it, it mighta killed somebody.”

“Meh. You worry too much Berk … but that what I keep ya around for.”

“Thought is was fer my dashin’ looks.”

“What looks, ya bloody gator?”

“Yer a mean one, Captain.”

“Ya know it. Keep watch on it. I’m gonna make the rounds.”

The orc walked off. She was the easiest to seise as she wore more gold and jewelry than any of the other sailors. The drake standing over him had enough iron and steel on him that Caliban was certain he could toss the large creature away if he needed to, but there was no point in doing so. He was bound with hemp ropes that he could not affect and he was stuck in the middle of the most horrid place imaginable. Freeing himself would accomplish nothing.

The boy was actually grateful for the blindfold. It was bad enough hearing the hissing of the deadly waves clawing against the sides of the ship. Not being able to see them allowed Caliban to try and forget they were there. Everywhere. All around him. The djinkin shuttered.

Caliban cast his seisming down into the hold and felt the geode still nestled into the crate of fruit. He was too far away to jump into that vessel but, if he needed to, he could call the stone to himself. He could escape the bounds he was tied with by blinking into the crystal chamber, but he feared the stone would just then roll into the sea, with him inside. That would be the death of him. That was no solution. Still, just knowing it was there gave him comfort.

Caliban blocked out the sounds and vibrations around himself. He did not think about the vast roiling death that gurgled around the thin wooden shell he rode on. He sought his center and nestled his consciousness into it. Within himself he dwelled, waiting until there was something he could do about the damnation he had landed in.