The Sea of Irinmin


Watery Dreams

Slipping into an alley and leaning against the wall, the man peered back around the corner.  It would make no difference if they caught him now, but he preferred not to live out his last days in pain. Soon the water raids will cease.  The controls were in place now, and he knew of no way to banish his creation.  It could only be controlled, but not easily--it was sentient. He pushed off from the wall, moving down the alley stealthily.  I want to see it, my creation.  At least I can have th... a sound from his left, a sharp pain, and then blackness....

Anellia sat upright quickly, nearly crashing her head against the underside of the bunk above her. She caught herself though, and fell back to her pillow, her eyes staring off into the darkness, trying to adjust.  The salt air permeated the cabin, and she remembered where she was.  "Another dream," she mumbled, closing her eyes.  It had seemed so vivid, though, and so familiar.  She knew of what he was speaking of, though. The feared Golden Water.  It was said to exist in the Irinmin Sea, and it was said to have been the end of all piracy on those waters.  These waters, she corrected herself. She shook her head. And there's no such thing, either.  There were, however, her duties, and they had to be done.  Soon she'd be back home, but for now, someone had to cook, and she didn't trust the rest of the crew with their own silverware, let alone her pots.

She arose from bed and quickly dressed, heading for the galley.  The dream stayed with her though.  She mulled it over.  It wasn't the first dream of this sort she'd had, but it was the longest thus far, and the most detailed.