Suspense Beneath 1000 Ships
Suspense Beneath 1000 Ships
Flash Fiction
A submission for Iron Age Media’s draft: The Voyage
Engraved into the golden horizon like a painting was a fleet of 1000 ships, the pride of the Empire, dominant over half of the world’s oceans. It was a time of peace, but it did not mean stakes absconded the brave of our era. While the everyman dealt with the odd pirate or lust for treasure, figures etched into this Empire’s faith and our first memories as children reared their monstrous heads.
My view of the golden horizon was replaced by salt spray, as if I were plunged into the sapphire drink which housed that marvel of a navy.
Face to face, it was like meeting those old murals and kid book drawings of that which sequestered itself just offshore, hidden beneath the tides. Every city the Empire over knew the tales, how dangerous yet fruitful these deep sea aberrations have been, and now as I sit here, frozen frightfully in front of drawings come to life in an underwater hall infused with the corrupted audibles of a similarly shrinking Hellenic bard, those same figures of trembling legend advised me on my coral bound journey to come, and my fate should I not succeed.
They slithered forth from a seagrass meadow, dark and twisted bubbles - likely of some foul magic - heralding their arrival, three great Eels, the icon not just of our flag, but of our birth as worthy people in the world, Aegean and beyond.
“THE TIME HAS COME YET AGAIN, FOR YOUR EMPIRE, OUR VASSAL, OUR CHILDREN, TO PLAY THE GAMES OF SILVERFISH, AND LEARN TO SINK OR SWIM FOR WE, YOUR GODS.”
Bellowed the disarmingly boisterous electric eel, first of the three, which slithered against a transparent window of tanzanite jewels. It was the only thing separating my throat from its glaive-like denticles, those daggers which demanded carnivorous succor. Beads of sweat coated my brow, and my stomach knotted with the anticipation of a sneeze ripping forth from broken ribs, my body, and my mind were hesitant to take part in any such game, especially that which was labeled with as puny an insect as a silverfish.
As if sensing my growing dismay, the ruby eel, second of the three, spoke to me in a softer yet nevertheless final tone.
“The competition bears risk and reward. Should you win, riches will run awash of your shores, a gift from we, your favored parentage. Should you lose, you die. Your legend a cautionary tale.”
That bard in the corner briefly floundered a few notes on his Epigonion. The frail and aged harp had been passed down generation to generation, believed to be a reward of a prior game. The silver eel, third of the three, regarded this imperfection with a notably cruel gaze, which would’ve undoubtedly given the bard a heart attack had he noticed it, but it was with his words, that I would finally see the big picture of the Game, as in its purpose and glory.
“Past wagers were made with other places. Far places, and the job of you and your kinsmen is to win. Sail to each island spoken of in your sagas which revere us, and claim the flags with our faces on them. Our confidence in you being realized, brings us the fruit of the past wagers, but can only be gained with your action.”
And yet again, like meeting those old murals and drawings from the past, a sense of wonder filled my bones, and confidence could be felt in my eyeballs by my very heartbeat. I had a mission, and I would take this challenge up proudly, and lead my people to an everlasting golden age.
I was the Emperor of this Empire of 1000 ships, after all.