The Flames of Arathia

by Jordan Liberatore

  “Not mine, not exactly,” the woman confessed. “My brother brought him in as a babe, saying the mother couldn’t take care of him.”

  “No father?” Malcolm inquired. The woman shook her head.

  “Murderer, I heard. Poor Declan’s grandmother was killed by the father,” the woman mused. “Not sure what to do with him yet. He needs more of a family than I can give him.”

  “Sir Malcolm!” the messenger called. Malcolm cringed, cursing under his breath.

  “Miss, perhaps you could send Declan to be a ward or squire when he’s old enough. I can make sure he gets in,” Malcolm offered. The woman thought a moment.

  “Please do,” the woman finally smiled. Malcolm stiffly nodded, walking over to the messenger.

  “The Eknar says you are to go to Outcast Cove, Sir Malcolm. The fireblood prince’s destination is there,” the messenger explained. Malcolm let out a sigh.

  “I will leave on the morrow. Make sure the boy over there, Declan, receives safety in the castle. I don’t give a damn who takes him in, but make sure he gets in, though not by a Brethren if you could be so kind,” Malcolm ordered.

  “Of course, Sir,” the messenger bowed. “May I inquire as to why?”

  “He reminds me of someone I used to know,” Malcolm mused. “Someone I loved very much.”

  Dawn broke in a glorious display of color: reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, and blues all streaking the sky. Drusilla studied it as she braided her hair. She’d barely slept the night before. Still, the watercolor midsummer sunrise soothed her and made her feel awake. She could hear the softness of the waves from the open window, the world showing no hint of the storm the night prior. It was astonishing. Shouldering her bag, she stepped down to where Nathan was waiting in the tavern area of the inn. Now dry, Drusilla could see his hair was actually a clean sweep of brown in various shades compared a mess. It reached down just below his jaw, framing his face wonderfully. His attire consisted of a pirate like white shirt, black slacks, and sturdy leather boots with a sword swinging on his belt. Near that hung his hat, which had clearly seen its amount of sun. There was an air to him that Drusilla couldn’t quite decipher. He had more of a nobleman than a sailor in him, as though destined to be something more.

  “Good morning, Miss Drusilla. I pray you slept well. I daresay your first night upon the open seas will be as nice as a night on land, but you get used to it. Come with me, pretty, and I’ll show you my ship at the dock. Lu and Adam should be getting a room ready for you,” Nathan encouraged in a friendly and happy tone. All the same Drusilla froze. She hadn’t been called pretty in a while. In fact, she almost forgot what it was like. It was a sense of home she hadn’t had since that night.

  The two walked along the busy streets down the hill to the docks. Puddles dotted along everywhere, fitting between cracks and grassy patches. Beggars sat in front of stores, their clothes in tatters, begging for money, for mercy. Farmers had let the animals graze out in the fields to the west, unaware of anything and almost everything going on in town. It was such a daydream picture, lost in its own world meant for a canvass. Drusilla wished it could all just stay like that, without a care in the world.

  Merchants had set up their booths in the main square, selling almost everything imaginable. Clothes of exotic make hung on lines like new drapery. Spices in jars could be smelled from all around. Herbs were displayed so as to attract any and all. The marketplace was always full when the ships are docked. Drusilla took note small children playing with wooden toys while mothers shopped. Was Drusilla ever like that? Life was so hard for her and her mother, father long abandoning them. It wasn’t like a drunk would do any good for raising a child and earning the money to pay for the necessities of life anyhow. She could now only hope that the child she knew could have that life she never could dream of.

  The hill continued to slope downward, the sound of waves crashing, pounding strong with each passing moment. The smell of salt water entered Drusilla’s nose, filling her with a sense of peace and serenity. Perhaps she could enjoy life on the open seas, now coming into view. Ships bobbed up and down in the docks. They are large, majestic in design. The sails were proud, yet rolled up as they slept, waiting to parade their beauty on the seas. Sailors rushed by, soldiers watching every move. Drusilla recognized some soldiers from the night before, yet carrying such a different air. The fun and joy have faded, leaving behind cold stone faces and a sense of statues without any life. Spears and swords were shining in the sun, sharp as can be. Shields slung on the backs as straight as their spines can make. Helmets and armor of metal shined, all newly polished.

  They came to Nathan’s ship. It was smaller than most of the others, but the wood much more beautiful. The sails were an off white, almost like a pearly color. The sun hit the plain wood, less ornate than the larger ships, but more sturdy and stunning all the same. Nathan let Drusilla climb up to the top deck first. Two people sat by the wheel, both in more pirate like attire as opposed to that of a sailor. Drusilla supposed as they seem to be more travelers than merchants, fighters than soldiers, it would make sense. The female of the two had black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and grey eyes, deep and dark. She was tan and thin, but muscles seem to dominate her figure. The other was a man with dirty blonde hair that looked golden in the morning sunlight, much more rugged than Nathan’s, hanging in locks just above his shoulders. His eyes were a deep ocean blue, full of such mystery.

  The two crew members stood at attention like obedient soldiers as the others approach. Nathan smiled kindly and nodded at them both. He walked up to the wheel, placing his hand on the polished wood, and turned to Drusilla. “Welcome to the Star’s Flight,” he told her. Drusilla took a deep breath of salt water and open air. This was home, or at least would be able to be.

  Chapter 3:

  “Lu, is our new recruit’s room ready as I asked?” Nathan inquired of the female. Scowling, the woman quickly nodded as she glared at Drusilla. She was in a dark grey tank top and black pants, both of which hung comfortably on her muscular body. The woman had a calm and confident air to her, though Drusilla could see through that. She could tell this Lu held some dark secret. Deduction was what some called it, but it was something every Free Strider had to have. Knowing how to pick up the truth behind the mask meant the difference between life and death when living the life a Free Strider did. However, while the woman was easy to read, her partner was not.

  The man stepped up to Nathan whispering in the captain’s ear. His blue eyes sparkled playfully as though he were an adventure lusting child, but something else lurked behind it, something Drusilla couldn’t quite read. He had the humor hungry air to him, attractive and charming. Lu watched the blond man with loving eyes, full of passion, though it was easy to see it was just a farce. Whatever love may have once been there was so clearly dead, so cold like a fireplace that had not been lit in days if not weeks. It was actually chilling. Nathan laughed at whatever it was the man had said, nodding at the words as the other pulled back.

  “Drusilla, this is my crew: Lu and Adam Brightheart. They are the closest thing a man could have for family. Sailors, this is Drusilla Free Strider,” Nathan introduced. Lu softly smiled with a nod, though it was clear the entire action was forced. Adam reached out to shake Drusilla’s hand with genuine kindness. Drusilla took it as quickly as possible, noting the strong grip Adam had. Nathan nodded to him and Lu stiffly before leading Drusilla below deck, away from the shining sun and salt filled air.

  The size of the ship was easy to discern as Drusilla glanced down the hall which was lined by three oak doors on either side. The last on the right opened to what looked to be stairs leading down towards a kitchen and perhaps storage as the vessel had the mark of a trade ship, small as it was. Nathan stopped at the door next to the open one, slowly turning the brass handle. Inside was a small bedroom, into which Drusilla stepped. There were only necessities: a bed, a mirror, a wardrobe. The bed consisted of a small mattress a wooden shelf, and t
he wardrobe doors were tied shut with rope.

  “Don’t mind the safety precautions. I take them just to make sure this ship can handle the worst, and it does. Any locked doors in this hallway are to be avoided. Lu and Adam’s room is the one next to yours. The kitchen’s on the lower deck and my room is across from yours. To the right of that is my office. I’ll let you settle in,” Nathan explained before turning and leaving Drusilla alone in the simplistic room. She looked around, setting down her bag. A room of her own unpaid for… How long had it been since she last had that? That was back when Malcolm would wait until her mother was asleep before sneaking in. That was when there wasn’t this pain of betrayal.

  They had first met in winter. It was a storm unlike any seen for some time, and Breena and Melody had come across the half freezing body while running back from the market. “Help,” the man had begged.

  “Mother, we should help,” Melody insisted. Breena was a caring woman in her own right and was willing to oblige her spirited and lively daughter.

  “What is your name, good sir?” Breena asked, helping him along to their home.

  “Malcolm Mace,” the man coughed. When they had gotten home, Breena ran to get a change of clothes while Melody sat with Malcolm. “What a beautiful flower of a maid,” Malcolm breathed.

  “Not so much a maid,” Melody argued. “I hold my own well enough. I’m more an Eya than an Eslara.”

  “Ah, the flower knows her history,” Malcolm coughed. “So does the rose have a name?”

  “Melody,” Melody replied.

  “Doesn’t suit you,” Malcolm growled. “Something stronger would, something like… Drusilla.”

  Drusilla had decided to go back up deck. Reflecting on the past caused her to shed a tear. She’d chosen the name he liked, and why? He had made her. He had killed her mother, making her the cold woman she now was. Drusilla was his creation. Her grip tightened around the hilt of the dagger at her side. She’d kill him with it, of that she was sure. She’d have to. Avenging her mother was what kept her sane some days, those days she wanted to give it all up, running back to the depths. As much as Drusilla denied it to herself, she loved the bastard, and even now there was still that pang of longing.

  Lu and Adam were working on the sails as Drusilla stepped into the dazzling sunlight, Nathan climbing up towards them as his white shirt billowed in the sea breeze. To Drusilla, Nathan seemed like a man out of the legends her mother used to tell her. He was the pirate version of Verrick Chancen, first technical king of Galdirr, or Eldorn Rhyker, the first Hand. Nathan’s brown hair swung about his face, lighter than the wood of the ship. It was here that Drusilla saw the captain’s strength, that hard earned strength that came simply from time and effort. The pearly sails unfurled, getting caught in the breeze as they anxious awaited the anchor to be brought up so they could drive the ship out onto the waters below.

  Nathan and Adam swung down on ropes like true seamen, as those it were all just second nature. Lu followed their lead, all three touching down at the same time and walking over to the anchor. They began to tug at the rope with ease, but Nathan paused, motioning for Drusilla to step forward and help. She walked forward hesitantly, grabbing the rope in her hands. It was sternly twisted and stiff, a perfectly made rope if there was such a thing. Even though the others were pulling more of the weight, Drusilla’s lesser used muscles burned as she yanked the anchor up. It was clear to her that she was not really needed for the task, but Nathan still had her there. Did he want to train her for such a task? It seemed likely.

  Finally the anchor was up and everyone was at their stations. No longer was it the dock, but the ship was its own separate place set apart from the world. Drusilla’s gaze landed on Nathan at the wheel, his hat like a crown upon his brow as he stood like a true leader staring at the horizon. Adam stood beside the captain, the colors of sunrise fading into the blue of day, a light blue compared the dark depths of the sea that rushed past them, waves beating against the sides of the ship. It was though Nathan were the king and the sea was his kingdom. It also wasn’t the first time that Drusilla had seen a man such as that.

  Luther was the one who taught Drusilla the art of blades. Even with just sticks Drusilla was frustrated, bruised, and exhausted. “On your toes, false gold,” Luther taunted. He called her false gold for her dirty blonde hair. “You’re a princess of no pedigree,” Luther had explained. Drusilla didn’t feel like gold, false or otherwise. They were in a clearing in the woods training with sticks under the heat of a summer sun.

  “Tell me again why the hell I need this,” Drusilla panted. Luther flashed her a smile.

  “Because little song it’s important. You need to fight out in the world, not have your head in stories,” Luther argued. Drusilla glared. It hadn’t taken long for Luther to discover that Drusilla was not only literate but well versed in Arathian history and lore.

  “You act like it’s my fault that my mother was a historian,” Drusilla growled, lunging forward again with her stick.

  “Tell me. Why? Why are here?” Luther inquired.

  “I told you,” Drusilla hissed. “My mother was killed. I would be blamed.” Luther stopped, tossing his stick aside.

  “And why the hell would a man like Malcolm the Dark kill a historian? There is something you’re not telling me, miss false gold, and I don’t like it,” Luther pointed out.

  “I told you I won’t go into detail. I fell in love with a bastard who left me as I am and killed my mother, so excuse me if I am not forthcoming with my trust,” Drusilla argued.

  “As you are,” Luther echoed. “I’m not stupid. I already know about that much. I’ll do what I can for you.”

  “And why?” Drusilla inquired.

  “Because you’re a Free Strider now and Free Striders stand up for each other,” Luther replied, walking over to start dinner.

  The day drew on with the typical tasks befitting a ship. Lu kept a wary eye on the new girl. There was something about her, something Lu couldn’t quite pick out, not at first. Nathan kept to himself as much as he usually did, head lost in the cloud, which there was not too many of that day thank the Beings. Adam remained his normal playful self, teasing Lu as often as possible, much to her temper. Still, she joked along like the loving wife she was, letting Drusilla see what could be interpreted as a tight knit family.

  “You should have her help you with dinner,” Adam softly suggested. Lu glared at him.

  “Why?” Lu growled.

  “Why not? She needs to feel she can do something. Come on, love, be nice,” Adam urged. Lu rolled her eyes, walking over to Drusilla. It was around high noon, and the Free Strider was just sitting watching the world pass by.

  “How about you help me make something to eat? We’re all hungry by now and I’m sure you are just the same,” Lu offered, though not in a particularly joyful tone. Drusilla seemed to pick upon that, nodding as she stood to stretch. The two kept no eye contact or even so much as glanced at each other as they made their way down to the kitchen, away from the heat of the afternoon. Drusilla was here able to pick up on some things. For starters, Lu’s strides were fast and confident as though Lu knew the ship better than the back of her hand. It was also clear to Drusilla that Lu was unsure of whether she wanted to accept Drusilla or not. There was a tension with Lu, a barely readable evil lurking beneath the forced amiable nature.

  Each step took away more of the warmth from Lu. By the time she leaned against the counter in the kitchen, her eyes were like ice and her body tense. Drusilla felt a chill run down her spine as Lu glared at her. Those eyes were the same dark gray as Malcolm’s. There was no mistaking the resemblance. “I don’t think I quite agree with Nathan choosing anyone. We were fine before. I guess I can deal with this though. What can you cook?” Lu inquired in a biting tone. Drusilla frowned. There was one thing she learned to hate and that was when people questioned her abilities. She had just lasted four years as a Free Strider. She obviously had to have some survival skill. It w
as clear though that whatever woman that on deck working was as much a phantom or mirage as Malcolm had been. The real Lu obviously hated Drusilla, and for reasons the dirty blonde could not discern.

  “I can cook what you need me to. I’m used to cooking herbs and whatever I can find out in the wild. I’m a Free Strider. We live off what we can,” Drusilla coldly replied. Two people could and would play at this game. Lu tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the counter surface. She was beautiful, at least in a way, like an evil queen or something.

  “I guess I can work with that. You’d better be at least slightly decent,” Lu snapped. Drusilla tensed. If there was any a time that the Free Strider had a mind to use her gift, now was that time. She’d love to watch this woman burn. Still, she was better than that. She had self control, and the last thing Drusilla needed was to be thrown off the boat on her first day.

  “I just hope you can enjoy my stay. I have some feeling that our acquaintance shall not be long lived,” Drusilla cooed. She wouldn’t dare say even companionship with this woman. Lu’s pale skin was pulled back against her high cheekbones in a manner that was also eerily similar to Malcolm. It was as though Drusilla was staring at the female version of her nightmare. The meal was cooked in quiet and tense thought as the boys steered the ship on, dropping the anchor near the end of the day so they could all eat together. Lu kept her eyes locked on Drusilla like a vulture at its prey. Neither Adam nor Nathan seemed to pick up on anything.

  The meal ended as it began: quickly, quietly, and precisely. Drusilla helped Nathan clean up afterwards, following his motions like a baby learning to walk. The captain had a delicate fire in his eyes. There was a sad understanding in them, something familiar to Drusilla though she could place it, and a kindness that Drusilla was a stranger to. Nathan smiled not with his lips but with his eyes.