A Land Far Away

It was the largest cabin, on a small ship. Must have been the captain's quarters, thought Vala. A search revealed some trinkets, a manifest that was in some sort of crude code, and the captain's log. The log was nothing interesting, some simple thoughts and big dreams. Vala tore out the pages that had been written on, and started writing in the remainder of the log.

I am free.

She paused and thought about just how close she come to being, what, a sacrifice? Some sort of consort? It was a dangerous world, she knew that very well. She had often remarked that she had more dead friends than living ones. She had faced various humanoids, shades, undead, even powerful named demons. Somehow, this was worse. Death was death; it would come some day. But being enslaved. It was so... degrading. Humiliating. There was always the hope of escape, or perhaps even emancipation. But in the meantime you were chattel. Powerless.

She had only been a slave for the several days it took for the slavers that captured her to meet up with their masters. But in that time she had felt every dark emotion she knew. It was really just luck that let her escape. A well placed blow with a meat hook gave her slaver's armor. Some padding and a hood let her pass for a man. A well timed exit and a hiding place on a larger ship gave her a better chance at freedom. A merciless slaying of the sleeping captain to create some chaos, and maybe a little justice. A crate designed for escape. A lucky discovery of renegade pirates that had survived a Cull attack. A forged treasure map to send the guards and sailors away from the ships, and into horrific danger. Then, a quick swim to a boat. It all seemed like a dream.

She had learned just enough to be concerned. The Culls worked for a Lord that made some sort of human sacrifices, and raised the dead as an undead army. The island they had taken her to was well fortified... it would take a small army to overcome it. If she hadn't found some castaways to board a ship with, well, her existance there would have been short.

She closed the book, and looked at the rapier she had taken from the slaver captain she had slain. It was obviously custom made. The skull pommel even had gems set into it's eyesockets. This, and the clothes on my back. Well, I also have a ship, and a crew. It's a start.

Vala smiled to herself at the thought of being a ship captain. Her ship may be small, and the boys may still think one of them should be in charge, but her little ship and crew seemed like just the right place to be.

Dearest sister,

I am in receipt of your letter and request for funds. Although I understand the travails that you have endured, or perhaps I don't, at any rate I am heavily invested in several business transactions that prevent me from being able to send any funds. Do not worry about my present condition, if even half of my investments pay out I'll be doing fine, but it will be a season or more before I start to collect funds.

Father has fallen ill for the third time this year, and I fear his time with us is limited. I understand that you have not spoken with him for quite some time, and why, but perhaps you can sell whatever goods or assets you have acquired and make the journey one last time. Don't bother to ask about bequethments, however, as I am already in possession of father's will and not too surprisingly your name is not mentioned except as an express exclusion.

During my last visit mother gave me what must have been part of a journal you wrote as a youth. I was more than a little surprised she would entrust such a thing to me, but on reading it I can see that it says nothing I didn't already know. It is included in this package, along with some clothing that you left at our parent's house and a few letters that have arrived for you in the past two years since your last visit. They mostly look like legal orders which I'm sure you are going to ignore.

If you are really interested in being a ship captain, you would be better off coming back to Waterdeep and joining the merchant marine. I'm certain our family contacts would allow you to earn a modest living and in time own your own ship with judicious control of your finances.

Very truly yours,

Montmartigan Ammakyl

Vala peruses the letter in the candlelight of her cabin. Azra was gracious to pay for her moorage, but without any source of income her crew had all abandoned her for other jobs. So, she had a ship at port with no crew, no cargo, and worst of all, no prospects.

She takes the clothing out of the box, and puts it aside. Then she picks up the small travel journal and recognizes it with a small smile. She had only written a few pages down before running away as a teen.

I live for music, good red wine, fast friendships, and the joy of finding an undiscovered pleasure. My mother was the same way. Even after she married my conservative father. My mother taught me to embrace life like it was a lover in need of a full-blown hug.

I was born and raised in a metropolitan city by the sea. I love the sea, and the sailor's stories about exotic places. The old cosmopolitan port was situated beside the confluence of a river and the ocean. It was often called the crossroad of the world. Ocean ships docking on one side, river boats on another. Several roads with constant trains of wagons. All either bringing in, or taking out goods. Myriad cultures characterize that lively harborage, a place where a one-block stroll might mean meeting with tribesmen bearing, rural farmers, or standoffish noblemen. All speaking in as many tongues as there are leaves on the street.

It was hardly surprising then, that I grew up fast. By the age of fourteen, I was running with friends all night at times, earning a reputation of finding parties where song, dance, and wine were in excess. My father, who traded wine, tried to rein me in a bit; but, in the end he conceded me to the streets. His frequent journeys kept him away most of the time, and my mother saw little reason to intervene in my affairs. She had grown up the same way. She even gave me advise on what I could and couldn't get away with, and how to do things like sneaking around to avoid pursuit, how to fight my way out of a bad situation, or how to get into a window when the doorman wouldn't let me into the party.

Vala smiled to herself on reading the old journal. Half of it was lies. Her mother barely tolerated her behavior, and certainly didn't teach her how to crawl through windows. And her father.... He never conceded her to the streets. On the contrary, he arranged her marriage, which is what caused her to run away in the first place.

She takes a deep breath, and looks around her barren cabin, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the oil lamp. She notices the wrinkles that are growing ever more prominent with time. It's okay to admit defeat, she thinks to herself. Sell the ship, use the money to replace some of the gear you lost, keep some travel funds. See your father one last time.

She nods to herself a bit, then thinks, and then it's time to look up some old friends. See what's going on in the Dales. I was always good at reinventing myself. Who knows what the road will bring?

An elderly maid opened the door, and looked passively at the visitor. Then she blinked, and lowered her chin. "Miss Ammakyl," she said in a weak voice, and stepped back. Vala took a step in, looked around, then walked into the entry room. "I... I've been instructed to have you wait here, ma'am," the maid said, and then she turned and left.

Vala smirked at that. She pressed her silk gloved hands against her velvet dress, trying to smooth the wrinkles. It had been a long journey, and a hard one with few funds, but she had saved enough to buy a decent dress for her arrival, and despite herself she wanted to look the part of the dutiful daughter. After a few minutes, a man appeared.

"Hello sister," the man said.

"Hello Monty," said Vala, in a low voice.

"I really wasn't expecting you," he said, looking her up and down.

"I'm sure you weren't," she replied curtly.

"Hmmm. Save your energy. You'll need it; his time is almost up. Another week and you would have been too late. Mother is away seeing to some preparations."

"Then I would like to see him immediately."

Monty led Vala down the hall, and up the stairs to the master room. A chirurgeon was in attendence, his grey face murmuring something to an assistant. When he saw the pair, he motioned to his assistant, and they left the room. Monty remained outside the door as Vala entered, then closed it for her. Vala looked at what was left of her father, a man she hadn't seen in... had it really been twenty years? She took a step towards him, and then waited to see if he was aware of her. His breathing was raspy and irregular. His silver hair was matted with sweat, and his face was drawn down as if he was already dead.

"Father?" Vala whispered. A tear came unbidden to her eye. "Father?" She said louder. The man's eyes opened and looked straight out. Without turning, his lips moved. "So, you came to witness the end."

"I came to see you, yes," Vala replied in a breathy tone. The old man took a deep but difficult breath, then seemed to draw strength from some reserve. "You were always a stubborn girl, Vala, but I didn't think you'd stay away so long."

Vala felt a lump in her throat, and choked a bit as she replied. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

He chuckled, and then coughed in a fit. When he settled down, he turned to her. "Perhaps you did right, perhaps not. It matters little now. Say what you came to say, and then leave me in peace."

"Father, I didn't come here to say anything," Vala said, as she stepped closer.

He studied her, then formed a slow smile. "I see," he said. "You are expecting something, yes?" Vala nodded a bit. "Alright, I suppose it costs me nothing. I was wrong, Vala. I let my own selfish desires cloud my judgment. And, I am sorry."

Vala put her gloved hand on his wrinkled hand, and squeezed it gently. A few tears came down her cheeks. Then she reached into her purse, and took out a vial of red creamy liquid.

Her father noticed it. "It's a little late to poison me, you know."

Vala chuckled. "Just drink it father."

"What is it?" He asked.

"Does it matter?" She replied, and removed the stopper.

"Yes, Vala, it does," he said sternly.

"Fine. It's your deliverance. Cost me a ship to get it made, but I happened to be in the isles and near an area frequented by powerful wizards of Thay."

His eyes light up as he realizes what the potion must be. Then he slumps again. "It can't be very much time. Not for the price of any ship you'd have."

"A year. Maybe a few months after that. Enough for us to get to know each other again, before the real end. A person can live a lifetime in a year, if they know it will be their last. Please father, drink the remedy."

He takes a deep breath, and murmurs something to himself. Then he nods, and accepts the vial. "I suppose I don't even want to know what's in it," he says with a smirk, then he drinks it. The liquid passes through his lips, and his body seems to energize. His pallor fades, and his blue lips turn a more vibrant shade. Then, he sits up, and stretches.

"Thank you daughter," he says. "Now, please tell a servant to bring me some clothes. I really need to get out of this forsaken bed."

Vala laughs lightly, and wipes another tear off her cheek. "Of course, father. I'll be right back." Then she stops, and turns back to him. "I promise you I will make it a year to remember."

+10 brownie points to anyone who figured out these last two entries were a loose metaphor for ALFA.