It was late in the humid Tartarian summer. The Arawa, a small three-masted ship of the small fleet of thirty ships under the command of Hinemihi, was slowly pacing the coastline of what used to be Empire Tartaria, more than thirty days past the last port of call.
It was well past noon. The squall of the day had passed, leaving behind a light breeze, not enough to shake the sails. The crew ranged over the decks from the mast to the last line of the mooring. They wandered the deck, looking for port. The sun was hot on their chests, the swelter unbearable for the men who once did several hours at sea. Food had been hard to find lately. They had scoured the ports of the better-off provinces to produce the four new crews, but it had been in vain.
The narrow, dark-blue tinted skin of the crew of the Arawa reflected in the sea. All of them could pull up several heavy lines of a single corral, a task most of them found difficult to do.
"Land ho!" the calls rang.
"Land ho!" came the anthem in true Tartarian fashion.
"Land ho" echoed the crew.
Down below they heard the labouring of the men over the cargo. They hoisted the barrels and crates of all the goods that the Hinemihi had taken from the last port of call. They went over the deck-planks and into the iron rails. They went down in a well slow convoy through the galley, resting in the hold. They did not carry guns or swords like the men above, for they were not warriors.
The men left the barrels and crates to be further processed in the ship's hull and went on deck for the first sight of land for thirty odd days. Up on deck the tartarians climbed up the rails and watched.
The coastline drew closer, a long sandy beach of overgrown, tangled forest.
"What land is this?" a tartarian asked the Captain.
"I know not," replied the Captain.
The ship was almost on top of the land, when the Captain signalled for a full stop.
"What is the hold?" he said to the Captain of the Midship.
"I do not know Captain," he said in reply. "But we cannot go past land without knowing if there is port. I would sail on were we in naval times, but times are not what they were once."
"Aye," the captain replied to his friend and second, "that we cannot."
The captain then went to the lookout mast and signalled, then went down and hailed the Mate, who brought a fleet of smaller, more agile ships and the men of the aerial fleet, who brought a fleet of a colony of bats.
They began landing on the beach, each gathering men from the Arawa. They began to scout, pass the woods and over the mountains.
Four scouts headed to the land, a little to the south.
The Captain and Mate remained on board with the messenger, who had just been emphasised to board the ship when he saw the land.
"I have seen the land!" he cried in Tartarian.
The Captain and Mate turned around in the booth.
"You are amongst them," said the Captain, "Did you see the Arawa?"
"I did Captain," he said, "The Arawa is upon the shore. I cannot see any port."
"How many are there?" the Mate asked.
"I do not know how many," he said, "There are many, at least two hundred. They are a strong breed, I am scared to go past them."
"Two hundred, eh?" the Captain seethed, "What do you think they want?"
"I believe they want our wealth," said the messenger.
"Aye, I do not know how many we are, but there are not so many. I am afraid not to scout," said the Captain, "what is your opinion?"
"They will not be at peace, and I am afraid of the noise we may make," he said, "But I am also afraid to go past them, for I think that if we do not come back, they may come here. I am also afraid that they may already be here."
"What are you saying?" said the Captain, "Are you saying that they have already infiltrated us?"
"I do not know," he said, "But I am afraid."
"Very well," said the Captain, "What is your name?"
"Mordok."
"You are a brave man," he said, "Very well, you will be in charge of a crew, you may leave immediately. I trust you."
"Thank you Captain," he said, "But is there a plan?"
Mordok, ten men and twenty bats flew south. They watched for signs of the Arawa, but never heard it in the forest. They flew on over the forest and over the ridge of the Tartarian snow-light. They had flown for twelve days without rest when they saw it, the land of the new empire, Terra.
"It is there," said Mordok, the bat captain.
"Its a long flight," said a bat in the pack, "We must rest here."
"I am afraid of land," said Mordok, "I shall go on."
They made camp under the trees where they landed and waited half the day.