Wave Breaker

Thracians were not meant to go to sea, Bryzos thought, and not for the first time. A wave crashed over the side of the ship drenching him in saltwater, though he was already soaked to the bone by the rain. This, he was sure, was the end. At a lull in the seemingly endless surges of water, he leaned over the side of the ship and vomited copiously. He had long since thrown up anything he had eaten into the waters of the Aegean, and the taste of bile was bitter in his mouth.

The waves surged around the vessel, threatening to take them all to the deep. At least things would be over then, Bryzos thought, or so he hoped. He sat up to look overboard, only to duck instinctively as a clap of thunder erupted near the Wave Breaker, closely followed by a bolt of lightning. The sailors had long since stopped attempting to do anything but simply hold on for dear life. Most of them had tied themselves to some part of the ship or other after they had reefed the single square sail to stop it from being shredded to ribbons by the wind.

All about them the storm raged. Bryzos had never been to sea before and would never have begun to imagine there was so much water in the world. Waves the size of houses tried to smash their ship into so much kindling, but somehow the helmsman managed to keep them on a course avoiding the worst of the swell. He had no idea where they were or where the Wave Breaker was currently headed and wondered if anyone on board in fact did. When the prince, or better former prince, had boarded the trading ship in Sestos in the morning, the weather had been fair.

Bryzos scoffed; a prince! The whole idea was now nothing but a joke: While the hatred he felt for his half-brother Tarbos was mutual, he would never have imagined… How could a man be filled with so much hate for his own family? His father King Ozrykes, his mother, his brothers and sisters, all of them now dead, killed by the hand of one of their own. His stomach convulsed once again at the thought, and he leaned over the side. But before he was able to throw up into the water, another wave came crashing over the rails.

One of the sailors had not tied himself down properly. As Bryzos looked on, the screaming man was torn off his feet and smashed against the stern post. Even if he had not been dead that instant, as the water retreated it simply pulled him overboard, sealing his fate.

“It’s him, the Thracian!” one of the seamen shouted, loud enough to be heard above the din of the storm raging about them. “It’s all his fault!”

Bryzos rose to counter the accusation, but before he was able to so much as open his mouth, an