### 330

For the following two days and nights the Intrepid remains a prisoner of the windless fog. Davan and his crewmen work tirelessly to repair the ship, and come the morning of the third day, when a gentle breeze arises with the dawn, the mainmast is secure and the sails are patched and ready to carry the ship onward. With the port side still holed and storms a constant threat in the open reaches of the Kaltersee, it has been decided that the safest course to steer is towards the coast. Then, should a sudden squall threaten, or a gale arise, the ship could run to shelter in one of the hundreds of coves that indent the rugged shore east of Point Vashna. However, to sail along this stretch of coastline is to risk hazards that could prove as dangerous as any storm. Darkland ironclads, unstable in high seas, favour the coast when venturing to and from their base at Argazad, and the cliffs and shores themselves are peppered with watchtowers and Giak encampments.

By early afternoon the fog has cleared and the Intrepid is making good headway through the cold, sparkling waves. League after glittering league fall away to the stern until, an hour or two before sunset, the lookout catches sight of the coast. ‘Land ahoy!’ he calls. ‘Land afore the bow!’ The crew are cheered by the news, feeling safer now that they are within sight of land, but their spirits are soon dampened when the lookout calls out again, this time in alarm. ‘Enemy off the starboard bow!’

Turn to 100.