by Bianca Mckay
Thame looked out over the land of Olthaire, searching for any sign that the dry grass hills would be coming to an end soon. He was tired of swaying on his stallion and clenching his muscles to stay upright as they trotted up and down a hundred hills on their journey through the countryside. At last, he saw seabirds flying to the west, tiny dots of white swooping and soaring high above.
"I don't understand why our father would not just take Jurot by force. It's not even a real kingdom; there is no ruler, no governing body. It's just a forest," Dru rambled on.
"Stow your complaints, for now, brother. We've reached Groden at last," Thame said with a relieved smile.
The sun was setting now, a purple tint coloring the sky. Both brothers were relieved to see the small fishing village of Groden, where they could get a decent meal and sleep in a bed, a luxury they had missed greatly during their week of travel. The cool breeze softly soothed their tanned skin as they neared the village. The smell of fish and brine heavy on the air, causing Dru to gag several times before covering his mouth and nose with a spare tunic from his saddlebag. Thame shook his head at his brother's gentle stomach, wishing that the next part of their journey wasn't necessary. Thame and Dru had been on a boat only one other time in their lives, and Dru spent the entirety of their short trip puking over the side into the choppy sea. Alas, father said it was crucial to take the sea to the southeastern shore of Jurot, where they would find a small cove with a path that led straight into the heart of the small kingdom.
"They will be expecting an invasion or attack from our borders," King Thaddeus had explained, pacing in his study as Dru and Thame listened intently. "You must venture into Olthaire, travel to a fishing village, pick anyone from the dozens they have, who ferries you across the Mardoch Sea matters not, as long as you enter where you must. The southeastern cliffside has a hidden cove, a small beach that cannot be seen until you are nearly running ashore. There is where you must enter. Find Aribelle. Force the damn draught down her throat if you must, then send me a missive when it is done. I will give you further instructions from there."
Now, as they crested the last hill and saw the twinkling lights below, the village bustling with activity, the brothers could not wait to relieve themselves of their horses and fill their bellies. Both looked at each other, grinning broadly, then leaned forward as their stallions took off, galloping towards the village.
Five minutes later, both guided their stallions to a wooded area and dismounted. They quickly took off their cloaks that bore the royal crest of Vildaheim --a golden hawk with a sword clutched in its talons-- and threw on tattered cloaks that they stole from the servant’s quarters before departing.
"Should we use fake names?" Dru asked, a look of calculation on his face.
Thamyris thought about it for a moment before deciding.
"I don't see a reason to," Thame replied honestly. "We are only here for the night, but perhaps you should just be 'Dru,' and I'll be 'Thame' to err on the side of caution. We certainly cannot go into a pub and declare we are the heirs to the kingdom of Vildaheim."
"This is true. I agree. Do you have our coin?" Dru asked.
Thame pulled six small, but heavy brown pouches from his pack, each tied tightly. He handed three of the pouches to Dru, who swiftly tucked them away beneath his cloak. Tucking away his own pouches, Thame checked to be sure that he had grabbed everything from his saddlebags and tucked his belongings away in his pack. With a smack to its flank, both stallions took off into the night, heading back to Vildaheim.
Emerging from the wooded area, Thame pointed to a pub with a black sign that hung over the door that read, The Aleing Fisherman, in peeling silver letters. Dru nodded his agreement, and the two set off towards the tavern. They wove through the crowd that stood outside, laughing and talking boisterously. They pushed open the small door and entered a dimly lit area that was stifling hot and packed with sweaty people. Dozens of men stood or sat together around scratched and chipped wooden tables; scantily clad women, whose faces were heavily painted with makeup, ran their colored fingernails up the arm, chest, or back of any many who was in their reach. The smell of grease, fish, and musk was overpowering, causing Thame to wrinkle his nose in distaste, whilst Dru gagged and made odd gurgling noises in the back of his throat.
Thame pulled Dru to the bar, signaling to the barkeep.
"Just swallow it down, brother," Thame said so that only Dru would hear him.
"The stench...it's repulsive," Dru choked out.
Thame didn't have time to remind his brother that vomiting on the floor would gather the attention of several, possibly aggressive, fishermen because the barkeep approached them at that moment.
"What'll it be, boys?" The wizened old man asked, grinning at them.
Thame pinched Dru's arm when the younger brother cringed at the barkeep's gap-toothed smile, his teeth a brownish-yellow mixture.
"Uh, we'll take a pint of your best and the direction of a fisherman for hire," Thame said, tossing several coins on the bar's waxed surface.
The barkeep raised his brows at the coins before scrutinizing the brothers.
"Third street on the right, second house, blue with pink shutters, can't miss it," The barkeep said, scraping up the coins and walking off without fetching them their pint of ale.
Thame glared at the back of the barkeep, who continued to refuse to acknowledge their existence before Dru managed to pull him through the crowd.
Out in the open air, Dru doubled over, hands on his knees, as he gulped in the fresh air. Although the fish and brine smell made him queasy, it was nothing compared to the stench of the pub, and slowly the green tinge to his skin disappeared. Thame held back laughter as Dru shook himself, like he was trying to rid himself of the memory of the pub or vanish the lingering scent that clung to their clothing. Thame clapped Dru on the back and wordlessly, the two took off in a brisk walk, following the directions of the barkeep.
The streets were narrow and close together; the brothers reached the third street after passing just six houses. Two houses down on the third street stood a two-story home, a light blue color, with powder pink shutters. A middle-aged man and a young woman stood outside, poking around in the garden that lined the stone walkway to the front door. Thame and Dru approached the man, whose back was turned to them.
"Excuse me, sir?" Dru called out when they were just a few feet away.
The man turned, and so did the young woman. The man was more than a foot taller than the woman, but there was no mistaking their kinship. Both were fair-skinned, blonde, and had grey eyes. The man had a bushy beard and wrinkles lining his chubby face, whereas the woman had delicate features, almost doll-like.
"What can I do for ya, boys?" The man asked.
"Well, we are looking for a fisherman for hire and the barkeep--"
"Georgie sent ya my way, did he? If you've coin to pay your way, I'll be taking ya where ya need to go," The man said with a friendly smile.
"But, Papa, you just got home," The young woman pouted.
"Now, Ella, this here's a paying job. I gotta take it. Let Nessa know where I've gone off to," The man said.
The man led the way down the street, leaving the young woman crying alone in her yard.
"You think she'll be alright?" Dru whispered.
"I'm sure she will be," Thame said, bewildered.
While Thame was concentrating on the man's back and his surroundings, Dru repeatedly turned, checking on the woman who was silently crying as she watched her papa walk away.
"Name's Paul. Paul Ellived. Captain of the Cinder, that's my boat there," Paul said, pointing a thick finger to a small sailboat. "Named it Cinder 'cause I had to rebuild it from the ground up after some youngsters set fire to it, burned it down to nothing but firewood and scrap metal."
Thame held back his groan of dismay. He had hoped that they would be boarding a much larger ship, preferably one that allowed for Dru to have his own chambers in which to get sick. Looked like he was i
n for a long boat ride with his brother hurling up his innards overboard. Dismissing those gross and depressing thoughts, Thame looked around at the makeshift marina. All of the bows were beached, the sterns bobbing gently in the water. Thick wooden poles protruded from the sand, long braided ropes hanging from some, whilst others were tied to the steel cleats on the boats, securing them on the shore. Hardly anyone else was on the shore, and those who were had already begun to pack up and drag their catches up the beach.
"All aboard, gents. Now, I require half now and the other half when we reach Rognin," Paul said, holding out his hand as the brothers boarded the vessel.
The brothers shared a look, but it was Thame who spoke first.
"We need to go to Jurot, not Rognin," Thame said.
Paul's eyes widened before he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.
"Never been past Rognin before, and I hear Jurot is nothing but one long cliff on the eastside. If you boys don't mind the possibility of being dropped off in the sea, then let's go," Paul said, still chuckling merrily.
Thame nodded to Paul, tossed him a pouch full of coins, and took a seat on the hard metal bench, leaving the one cushion for Dru to seat himself upon. Within minutes, Paul had the boat in the water, the sails up and catching the misty wind that whipped around their faces.
"How long will it take to get there, Paul?" Thame shouted over the noise of the waves lapping at the boat.
Paul looked over his shoulder from where he stood, steering the boat and shouted back, "We should be there just before dawn."
"I'm going to rest for a bit," Thame replied, then pointed towards Dru and continued, "And he's probably going to throw up the entire way."
Night had settled fully, the blackness of the sky only interrupted by the shining of twinkling stars. Thame rested his head on the hardback of the bench and pulled his cloak tighter around himself to ward off the chill from the mixture of icy sea spray and the cool breeze of the night. Closing his eyes, Thame drifted off to a fitful sleep, awoken occasionally to the sound of Dru retching over the side of the boat, or a particularly loud squawk of a bird flying overhead. For hours Thame slept before a scream had him jolting awake, his heart pounding frantically.
"Thame!" Dru screamed again.
The rain was pouring down on them, the boat rocking and swaying on choppy, massive waves. Thunder crashed, and lightning flashed through the sky.
"Thame! No one is steering!" Dru screamed, looking pale and terrified.
"Where's Paul?" Thame shouted over the noise of the storm, awake and fully alert.
"Down there," Dru shouted back, pointing to the black sea that churned violently beneath them.
"Start throwing some of this shit overboard," Thame ordered, making his way towards the steering wheel.
It was a long and difficult feat; for every step he made closer to the helm, he was tossed backward by a strike of another wave. They were getting bigger too, as the storm raged above them, soon the waves would capsize the boat and leave them all searching desperately for something to grab hold of to stay afloat. Behind Thame, Dru was tossing anything that wasn't bolted or nailed down over the side of the boat without question. The sky up ahead was starting to brighten into a soft glow of orange; dawn was nearly here, and they were almost out of the tempest that swirled angrily above them. Thame said a silent prayer to any gods who would listen that the friendly Paul was alive and would soon be floating on anything Dru tossed overboard.
The powerful waves crested, pushing the boat closer to Jurot and towards the edge of the storm. Up ahead was all black, save for the orange hues high in the sky. Thame's eyes narrowed as he peered into the darkness, hoping to see a mass of land that indicated they were close enough to Jurot to swim there if the boat indeed capsized.
"Gods above," Thame breathed as the sky brightened, and he saw clearly what lay ahead. "Jump, Dru!"
Dru and Thame jumped from the boat, landing in the icy sea. Thame's breath felt frozen in his lungs, his skin prickling with the pain of a thousand stings. Kicking his numbing legs hard, Thame broke the surface of the water, coughing and sputtering as he gulped in air. Dru surfaced not five feet away, his skin tinged blue, his teeth chattering as he glowered at Thame.
"Why did you think jumping would be a grand idea?" Dru shouted, wrapping his arms around himself as his head bobbed above the water.
Thame tilted his head in the direction the boat went.
Both brothers looked on as the boat crashed into the dark cliffs of Jurot and splintered into thousands of pieces as the waves continued battering against the boat.
"Thank you, brother," Dru said sheepishly.
"Anytime. Now come on, we've got quite a way to swim," Thame replied.
Five: Wading Through
“When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Momma.”
“Spoken like a child, my beauty. Never strive to be someone else, but better than the rest. Faster, stronger, more cunning, and far more deadly than any potential adversary.”
"We will stay afloat here, for now, brother," Thame said hoarsely.
Dru nodded his head feebly, exhaustion settling over him like a lead weight. His throat was dry and felt rubbed raw from the amount of saltwater he had ingested. With each passing second, it felt as though his eyes were filled with sand, and he longed to shut them and fall into the numb oblivion that was beckoning. Shivers wracked his body, causing the water around him to ripple continuously. His sodden clothes were weighing heavily upon him, threatening to pull him beneath the briny sea as soon as his consciousness slipped away.
Doing their best to stay alert, the brothers kept one wary eye on the sea, their bodies tense as they mistook bobbing birds for flashing fins. Their gazes scanned the cliffs of Jurot, searching for the secret cove that would offer them salvation from the treacherous sea. Hours passed by, the sun climbing higher in the sky until its rays were beaming brightly above them, burning their numb flesh.
Dru found himself dozing off, his head lolling to the side before his eyes snapped open. With wide eyes, he resumed his search as booted toes brushed up against something solid.
"Thame?" Dru called out tensely.
Thame, who looked as exhausted as Dru felt, turned his head slowly towards his brother. The look in Thame's dark eyes was one of regret and sorrow; gone was the thrill of adventure and mischievousness.
"It will be alright, brother," Thame croaked out.
"I know," Dru said back, his voice scratchy and unrecognizable. "The cove is just ahead to the north, but I am afraid I will not be going with you, my brother."
"Why in the seven hells will you not be going?" Thame demanded hoarsely.
Dru nearly laughed in the face of his brother's gruffness, but alas, he found nothing amusing about his current situation.
"There is a creature, solid and massive, just beneath me," Dru said, giving his brother a look that said he understood and accepted his fate.
"There is hope yet, brother. If it has not attacked you, it may have no intention of doing so," Thame said reasonably.
"I will attempt to make it to the cove with you, Thame. If the beast does attack me, you must leave me and carry on with our father's mission. Swear it to me," Dru said, his throat feeling rawer than before.
The air was heavy with unspoken emotion between the brothers before Thame spoke.
"I swear it to you, Druas, that I will leave you to your death by the fiending fish that thirst for blood and flesh of royals who've just shipwrecked, if the occasion arises," Thame said dryly.
Mildly annoyed, Dru glared at his brother, feeling wounded by how quickly Thame agreed to leave him to his fate should a beast attack.
"Will there ever come a moment in your life, brother, where you do not feel the need to mock me?" Dru croaked harshly.
Thame flashed a tired smile, his lips pale and chapped.
"I imagine there will be, but not today, when you mistake a sandbar for a ravenous beast and start making deathbed proclamations," Thame
said.
It took Dru several seconds before he realized that the water was now around Thame's waist. Thame was standing steadily on his own two feet, whilst Dru's knees were nearly in his stomach in an attempt to keep his toes away from the non-existent beast. Huffing out an incredulous breath, disappointed in himself by his cowardice, Dru stood up straight, his cheeks flaming with shame, and avoided his brother's eyes.
Thame stepped forward and patted Dru on his back and then wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Together, they walked along the sandbar towards the small triangle of bright white sand that sat as a stark contrast against the towering black cliffs on either side. They moved with sluggish steps, their feet shuffling along the seafloor, stirring up sand and fish no bigger than frogspawn .
"The tide has gone out," Thame said when they reached the end of the sandbar.
The sandbar dipped dramatically back down to the seafloor, but they were now so close to the shore that the only obstacle in their way was avoiding getting knocked over by the cresting waves. Dru stepped down at the same time as Thame, the water now back to their shoulders. They moved quickly, alternating between floating and swimming as their renewed energy waned quickly. Wave after wave slammed into Dru's back, pushing him beneath the icy surface of the sea, but each time he would resurface gasping for air, determined to make it to the cove. Pulled under by a rather forceful wave, Dru spiraled beneath the water, his body being propelled toward the shore, as though the sea was spitting him from its depths.
Abruptly, Dru found himself on his hands and knees, his fingers digging into the hot white sand, the sun beating waves of heat on his back. Trusting Thame to find his way to the shore, Dru laid upon the warm shore, blissfully relieved as the tingling numbness left his limbs little by little. Closing his eyes against the brightness of the day, Dru slipped into the dark abyss that called to him, falling asleep before Thame washed ashore, coughing and sputtering as he expelled the seawater from his lungs.