A Warrior's Legacy by Guy Stanton III

followed.
    Exasperated I asked, “Do I need to know
about the dream for either the safety of the men or the success of
the mission?”
    He looked at me briefly and said, “I don’t
think so.”
    And that was all I could get out of him.
    Everything did not go according to plan.
Just short of three weeks saw our convoy run into the worst storm
any of the sailors had ever seen. We could see no way around it so
we decided to fight our way through it.
    Two days into the storm we realized that it
would be impossible to make our way through it and we tried to turn
back, but we were caught within the storm’s savage grip.
    We were tossed around like a piece of wood
in a pond with a herd of boys throwing rocks at it to see if they
could sink it.
    The storm drove us southward with no end in
sight. I wasn’t even sure we were headed southward as we hadn’t had
a clear view of the skies since we had entered the storm. It was
hard to even tell if it was day or night.
    The third day of the storm we lost sight of
one of the other ships, but it reappeared the fifth day and we did
our best to stay together. A week into the storm and still we found
no way free from it.
    We lost all hope of survival. The hulls of
the ships were taking on water from the savage pounding of the
waves that we were buffeted by on every side.
    It was all we could do to keep the water
pumped out as men worked around-the-clock manning the pumps. Most
of our sails were either torn into shreds or ripped free entirely.
We’d lost several men overboard, if we didn’t break free of the
storm soon the ship would break apart, because of the strain it was
under or because the men might just give up and let the ship fill
and slip under the waves in search for the piece of the depths of
the sea.
    I sunk to the floor of my cabin beyond
exhaustion. We had no chance for sleep or even food, since we’d
been caught in the storm.
    Wearily I croaked out, “God have you led us
here to this storm to die?”
    My head slunk down to rest against a bench
seat cushion. I was giving up the fight. The cabin was a mess from
the upheaval of the storm. What possessions I had brought with me
were strewn about the cabin.
    My weary eyes caught something glowing in
the dark. I tried to focus on it. It was the box holding my sword.
It had broken open and my sword had half spilled out of it and it
was pulsing with color.
    Why was it doing that?
    It never glowed or showed any color unless I
was holding it in my hand. There must be a reason and I forced my
body to listen to my mind’s commands as I reached out for it and
pulled it to me. Staggering to my feet I made it back outside.
    I was knocked off my feet and I settled for
crawling along the slippery deck, until I reached the ladder to the
bridge.
    Gaining my feet my eyes met Gavin’s as he
stood at the wheel and fought the storm with a willful strength
that I knew I had never had.
    He looked at the sword glowing brightly in
my hands and then back at me with a sardonic look as if to say,
“What are you going to do with that? Attack the storm?”
    It was as good a suggestion as any I thought
in our current condition. Instead of raising the blade to the sky I
raised the pommel stone of the blade with the ruby colored
crystal.
    I don’t know why I did that.
    Red light shot out in multi faceted
directions and then began to alternately flash on and off for the
space of five seconds and then a solid column of red shot into the
dark clouds overhead.
    Waves ramped up to over twice the height of
the ship, but they did not fall upon the ship. They were held at
bay by some unseen force. A channel of calm water formed ahead of
us that ran through the ramped up waves.
    “Into the gap Gavin!”
    But he was already bringing the ship about.
The other ships followed suit. The ships shot into the calm waters
as if propelled from below.
    The giant waves crashed closed behind the
last ship even as strong winds blew at our backs. We shot out into
an