“Aye,” nodded one of the sailors, “there are more skimmers in Fakara. It would be nice to tell them of our errors.”

* * *

The night was dark and foreboding as Formone piloted his skimmer towards the armada. Clouds had gathered overhead and were blocking the moon. Even the behemoths from the Island of Darkness were almost impossible to see. Formone stared ahead into the black of night, straining his eyes to determine if there was a ship in front of him. He couldn’t tell for sure, but the sea was alive with the sound of hulls cutting through the water and the occasional chatter of a seaman carried on the wind.

Formone felt his stern rise high in the water and quickly turned his head. He nearly gasped out loud when he saw the huge bow pushing his tiny skimmer aside. He pulled hard on the tiller and braced himself for the wake of the large ship. With sweat pouring down his brow in the cool night air, Formone adjusted his course to take him deeper into the pack of leviathans.

A short while later, Formone had to jerk the tiller around as one of the wooden whales appeared right before him. He brought his skimmer through a hard ninety-degree turn, his sails falling limp as his starboard rail banged into the hull of the Motangan ship. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled deeply. His partner used an oar to push the bow away for the leviathan, and Formone manned the tiller. Air filled the sails as the skimmer reversed course.

Formone turned again to port to pass behind the Motangan ship. The skimmer bounced wildly as they ran into the wake of the large ship. They rode out the turbulence and then Formone adjusted his course to the west so that he did not fall out of the armada.