The Tale of The Summit's Gambit

The Final Log of the Summit's Gambit

Found tied to the leg of a messenger pigeon, recovered by the Tempstradium merchant vessel “Morning Star” 189 AT

15th Day of no winds

Clear skies. No wind. None at all. Haven't seen anything like it in fifteen years of sailing the skies. Levium gauge shows we're maintaining altitude but burning through our reserves faster than I'd like. First Mate Corrick says we're three days from the nearest trade wind, if we can hold our height. If.

16th Day

Still no wind. Ordered the crew to dump non-essential cargo. Some grumbling, but they did it. Harley tried arguing about his chest of “personal effects.” Had him dipped for ten seconds. The screaming stopped quickly enough. The scars will remind him about priorities.

17th Day

Lost another foot of altitude overnight. The mists look different from this low. They change from grey to green to purple and back. Roiling. Like they're watching us. Old Jenkins says he can hear them whispering. I reminded him that's what someone says before they jump. He shut up. I don't need him upsetting the crew any more than they are.

18th Day

Fight broke out over water rations. Had to shoot Marks in the leg to restore order. We used the last of our emergency ballast trying to gain height. No good. Can smell the mists now. Sweet, almost. Making my head hurt.

19th Day

The crew's breaking. Found Thomson trying to drink the levium. Said the mists told him it would make him float. We dipped him. He didn't scream at all. Just laughed. Had to lock him in the hold.

People are taking sides. Corrick keeps order in the fore section. Harley's got a gang in the aft. They watch each other like hungry dogs.

20th Day

Getting harder to think straight. The mists rise up in tendrils sometimes. Or maybe I'm seeing things. Jenkins jumped today. Just stepped off the rail, smiling. Said he heard his mother calling. His mother's been dead twenty years.

The levium gauge is nearly empty. Some say we should try for the nearest peak, use the last of it for one burst of height. It's suicide. We'd never make it, and the crash would kill us quicker than the mists.

21st Day

Three more jumped in the night. The mists took them quick. No screaming.

Found Harley's gang trying to break into the levium chamber. Said they were going to drink it. Had to kill them all. Five good men. The bodies went over the side. The mists seemed to catch them.

Corrick says the rest of the crew is hearing things. Music. Voices. I hear them too, but I won't tell him that.

22nd Day

The ship creaks as she sinks. Like she's crying. We're so low now I can see patterns in the mists. Faces sometimes. They look like people I used to know.

Thomson got loose. Started telling everyone the mists would forgive us if we gave them blood. Half the crew believed him. There was a fight. Now there's just seven of us left.

My hands shake when I write. The mists whisper such pretty things.

23rd Day

Just me and Corrick now. The others either jumped or killed each other. The mists are almost to the rail.

Corrick's got that look. The one Jenkins had before he jumped. Says he can see his childhood home in the patterns below. Says it's beautiful.

I can smell them clearly now, the mists. Like summer flowers and rotting meat.

24th Day

Corrick's gone. Woke to find him standing on the rail, tears running down his face. He thanked me. Said the mists had shown him everything. Everything. Then he stepped off, arms wide.

The mists lap at the lower deck now. Where they touch, the wood turns strange colors and the grains warp and twist. My head feels full of cotton and bells.

I can see why they jumped. The patterns. The voices. They promise such wonderful things. Show you such beautiful horrors.

But I am still captain of the Summit's Gambit. Even if she's just a coffin now.

I tied my log to the last pigeon. Maybe someone will find it. Maybe they'll understand.

The mists are on the deck now. They curl around my feet like cats. Such pretty patterns. Such lovely whispers.

I won't jump though. Won't give them the satisfaction. A captain goes down with his ship.

They're up to my knees now. The colors. The sounds. So beautiful.

I understand everything n------

The writing ends here in a long, trailing mark