The island of Solitaire lay two miles offshore from the western tip of a long, narrow peninsula. The island was in actuality an extinct volcano which had blown it’s top long before the time of man. Its sides were steep and smooth, and it emerged from the sea dramatically, culminating in a conical peak that towered two thousand feet above the water. A city, the Freeport of Solitaire, had been carved out of the volcanic rock around the volcano’s knees. The rubble that resulted from the creation of the city was used to create massive piers of the Grand Harbour, which extended far out into the island’s leeward side. Ships of all sizes crammed these piers; their masts sprang up like a great forest stripped bare of its leaves. The waters of the harbour were deep and could easily accommodate the largest oceangoing vessels.
The Freeport of Solitaire had started its life as a small resupply port. It quickly grew into one of the busiest on the Continent, once mariners learned how to tame the Maelstrom, a great whirlpool in the ocean hundreds of miles to the west. No one knew what had created the whirlpool, or when it had come into being, but mariners had long used the strong currents of the region to whip their reinforced ships along to the far corners of the world, enabling them to complete voyages that would not be possible by conventional means.
Despite being hundreds of miles away, the Maelstrom caused violent currents in the region. That, the ice floes to the north, and Damaris’s Spines to the South resulted in Solitaire being the only viable port for sea traffic coming out of the Maelstrom, bound for the continent of Mierca.
A long stone bridge connected Solitaire to the mainland. Its original name had been forgotten to time, but now, the locals simply called it The Link. It was an ancient structure, impeccably made from pure white stone that showed no sign of weathering despite its exposure to the elements over the centuries. According to legend, it was built by the elves when they withdrew from the continent thousands of years ago and was one of the many ancient monuments the firstborn had left before they disappeared from mortal lands. The bridge was paved and wide enough for two lanes in either direction. One lane was for pedestrians and was wide enough for them to walk six abreast, and the other for wagons.
The bridge was normally well trafficked, but today, it was even busier than usual. Most of the traffic was headed towards the island and the mood of the travellers was a mixture of panic and relief. Many were fleeing the war that had engulfed the continent and were relieved that there were still ships docked to the great piers of the Grand Harbour and that more still were arriving.
Amongst the weary travellers was a young woman. She was short and petite and wore a wide brimmed hat to conceal her delicate features. Her hair had been cut short and she was dressed like a man, wearing riding breeches and a long coat. A woman travelling alone would have raised too many questions. She pressed her mouth into a thin line as she looked across the bay at the gilded palace that was built around the peak of the mountain like a great golden crown. Great statues of the former lords stood atop its walls, looking out to sea and were visible even from the bridge.
“So that is how the Freeport of Solitaire spends its fortune,” she thought with distaste.
In a way, it was the cause of the Empire’s current struggle. Centuries ago, wanting to tax the lucrative trade that passed through the port, the Emperor of Malcith had sought to bring the Solitaire under Imperial rule. The Empire had been at the peak of its powers and dominated the continent from the coast in the west to the Listrel Mountains to the east. When diplomacy failed, the Emperor levied a massive army, numbering nearly fifty thousand strong to claim the island in His name.
The island and its merchants resisted. Though hopelessly outnumbered on paper, they possessed a great navy, which the Empire lacked. Though the great bridge was indestructible, it was also a choke point that prevented the Imperial forces from using their superior numbers to their advantage. To make matters worse, it was connected to a forty mile long peninsula which was only a thousand yards across at its widest point.
In his pride and his hubris, the Emperor had marched its great host unopposed down the peninsula. When they massed before the bridge, the great ships of Solitaire, laden with corsairs and mercenaries landed soldiers behind them, cutting the Imperials off from their lines of supply before casting off to bombard them with impunity from the sea. Cut off on both ends, the Imperials were slowly whittled down until their soldiers staged a mutiny, offering their generals to the Lords of Solitaire as a term of capitulation.
So the generals were cast down from the peak of the volcano, and the Empire was forced to agree to terms with the Lords of Solitaire, guaranteeing the freedom of the island in perpetuity. The humiliation had ultimately caused several kingdoms to break away from the Empire. Now, another disaster had struck the Empire, and its former constituents seemed content to sit back while their former overlords floundered.
A ship’s bell rang out, and the young woman tore her eyes from the palace and watched as a rowboat manned by forty oarsmen eased a giant ship slowly into a choice berth close to the harbour master’s building, a tall, wide building that had been carved into the side of the volcano. She then turned her gaze to the crush of people before her. From their accents, she could tell most were Imperial Citizens. The Empire was doing its best to keep what was going on suppressed, but many of these people had probably seen firsthand just what horrors the Empire faced and were seeking to flee the Continent.
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These were merchants and nobles. People with the means to travel and who were intelligent enough to know not to spread panic, for if the rest of the Continent knew the true truth of the situation, everyone would be looking to flee, and if that were to happen, not even all the gold in Mierca would be enough to guarantee them passage away.
Even then, it looked as though the captains would have no shortage of people seeking passage on their ships. Chartering a ship would have been difficult in the best of times, but now she just had to hope there was a captain desperate enough.
It took two hours for the young woman to cross the bridge onto the island. There, she attempted to sell her horse but was shocked when she was offered less than a quarter of its value. Many of those fleeing the Empire had no further need for their horses or carriages either upon arriving on the island, and the traders had far more horses than stalls in their stables. After visiting five horse merchants, the young woman gave up and accepted a scandalously small sum for a fine horse such as hers. She didn’t dwell on it for long. She had more important business to attend to.
As she was attempting to sell her horse, she saw men and women crowding around the gangways of ships at the pier, negotiating fares for passage and decided straight away to write off the ships moored close to the town centre. Though she could afford to pay handsomely, the captains of these ships could afford these expensive berths and were likely to be unwilling to risk their ships on her venture. No, she would have to try her luck in the seedier side of town, but she had come here prepared for exactly that.
The young woman clutched the satchel that she wore under her clothes tight as she walked down the Promenade, a broad, paved street which ran down one of the volcano’s larger lava tubes and served as the city’s main artery. The ceiling towered sixty feet overhead, and most of the buildings fronting it were built from white stone quarried from the foothills of the Dardun Mountains a hundred miles to the east and brought to Solitaire at great expense. Light came from lanterns which were set on poles at regular intervals.
Despite being in a tunnel, she didn’t feel claustrophobic. This was due in part to the steady breeze that carried a salty tang with it, and also due to the sheer immensity of the lava tube. It was also less crowded inside than out. This part of the city catered mainly to seafarers and merchants, and the former were mostly out with their ships, securing them from the newcomers and negotiating passage fees.
The young woman turned off the promenade and onto a side street that led up a narrow channel. Daylight filtered in from up ahead as the paved road gave way to volcanic rock that had been worn smooth by foot traffic and the elements over the centuries, making the footing treacherous. She emerged from a fissure and found herself outside once again. Almost at once, she was assaulted by the stench of rotting fish and human excrement which made her eyes water. Once she blinked away her tears, she was greeted by a sight that made her heart sink.
A floating shantytown was attached to the windward side of the island. A makeshift sign made from a scrap of wood identified it as the Spillover. The buildings on this part of the island had been cobbled together from driftwood and the rotted hulks of dead ships. They were connected by a haphazard array of planks and repurposed decking. It was secured to the volcano by rusty poles that had been embedded into the rock.
She had been told that this was her best bet to find a crew willing to take her to her destination and looked at the motley collection of boats and smaller ships were docked at a pair of makeshift jetties on the far side of the shantytown before sighing. They might well be willing, but whether or not their vessels would make it through the Maelstrom was another problem altogether. She paused for a moment to consider turning around and trying her luck with the sailors at the port before shaking her head. That would be a waste of time and time was something she could ill afford to waste. She took a deep breath before stepping onto the rickety gangway that connected the shantytown to the island.
Once she stepped into the shantytown proper, she became aware that she was attracting attention. That couldn’t be helped. While she had done her best to keep her wardrobe modest, they were still far better than the patched together collection of rags many of the denizens here were wearing. She quickened her pace. She couldn’t afford for her journey to end in an ignominious mugging in this wretched place. She was beginning to regret travelling alone.
No, she reminded herself. There hadn’t been any choice in the matter. There had been so many sacrifices to get her so far. So many… She had to stop as her knees went weak. She reached out onto the side of a building to steady herself and winced when a splinter pierced her palm.
“Hello, friend,” a man called out from behind her.
The young woman pulled the brim of her hat closer over her head and forced her legs to move.
“Oi, hold up,” the voice was closer now. There was a hint of humour in the man’s voice. And malice.
She quickened her pace. Boards groaned underfoot in protest as she ran across a makeshift plank with remarkable grace. She heard it crack and splinter as her pursuer followed suit and silently prayed that it would give way, plunging him into the sea. However, she had no such luck, and she could practically feel his breath on him now.
She spotted what looked like the shantytown’s main street on the next turning and reached out to grab a nearby bannister, enabling her to turn sharply. As she did, she felt the man’s paw graze her shoulder. The main street was more crowded, but people on it merely watched the chase as though it were a daily occurrence.
“Hey friend, I just want to talk,” her pursuer had caught up quickly and was now almost upon her. She was running at full tilt, too afraid to turn around.
Up ahead, she spied a sign that said, ‘The Yardarm’. She was debating whether or not to risk cornering herself when a strong hand clamped down on her shoulder. Desperate now, she twisted sharply and wriggled out of her long travelling coat before hurling herself through the double doors. She landed with a crash and whirled around to see a burly man leering down at her. He was wearing a sleeveless vest that showed off his thick, muscular arms. Clutching her long travelling cloak in one of his giant fists, he reached out for her with the other, conjuring images of that awful encounter, when that awful creature, seemingly conjured from the depths of her worst nightmare, had grabbed her by the arm. She looked at her bandaged forearm and was frozen with terror.
“Someone, help me,” she gasped. Tears flowed down her face. She no longer saw a man reaching for her, but a vile creature cloaked in shadow, extending a taloned paw.