Sound of the waves and the howling of the wind were the only things that could be heard. Veryacáno shivered from the bitter cold and looked beyond the ship’s bow, toward the east. He could see naught but the glimmer of stars above, reflecting on the waves. Unconsciously, he was rubbing his hands together and pulling his arms closer to his body, trying to warm up. He looked down to his feet. The beautiful swan ship’s white planks were stained with patches of blood. But the crew had no worry about such things. Most of them were now busy pulling on the oars with all haste. Veryacáno dismissed the ominous images appearing in his mind and wished to be one of the oarsmen. Perhaps then he could distract himself from his thoughts and warm up his muscles with the hard labor. His turn would come.
He looked up again and surveyed the horizon. Nearby, many other white ships were graciously sailing alongside them. Perhaps there were more but Veryacáno assumed them to be beyond the horizon, out of his sight. Some of the nearby swan ships had desperately unfurled their sails but to no avail. Not only was it impossible to estimate the wind direction, none of them had any experience in sailing or navigation. Even if there was anyone that could sail in this kind of weather, none was in this fleet. All ships had to count on the strength of their oarsmen to hold the right course and speed. At that moment, it seemed that the dark clouds that mysteriously approached on all sides would not make their journey any easier. Some of crew who were not heaving on the oars looked at the clouds and a worrisome expression appeared on their faces. Seeking cover from the bitter wind, they waited their turns to man the oars and hoped that no storm would break…
Suddenly, a tremendous clap of thunder was heard and with his heart racing, Veryacáno opened his eyes. He looked around. He was sitting alone in the night upon the fields of Eregion.
