Bliss

by Daniel Lawley

“It's dinner, but you’re right, it should feed us both until the old man awakens.” He smiled as he began to skin and bone the creature. A mess of gore spilled to his feet as he did so.

  “That's disgusting, I’m not eating that. Besides we have a job to do” she continued, not entirely convinced by her own protests as her stomach ached from hunger.

  “Yes, the old man. Do you think he'd prefer strong and healthy guards or wizened and hungry ones?” He asked with a smile.

  “Well…” her stomach growled, betraying her.

  “It sounds to me like you already know the answer to that one. I'll stand watch and …”

  “And what? You think I'll prepare your food?” Her voice became raised in alarm. Indignant at the cheek he felt safe to display.

  “I wasn't suggesting any such nonsense. I was going to offer to stand watch and cook this while you freshen yourself.” His offer sounded thoughtful. She was exhausted and could do with some time to herself.

  “How do I know you won't slit my master’s throat and run?” She denied him. She must stay strong.

  “Why do you think I would?” He retorted.

  “Well...” she began.

  “It doesn't matter, I'd be leaving myself to the mercy of the jungle, or the navy or you. Right now my best chance of survival is to stick to the plan. That's what you wish to hear isn't it,” he continued, indignant, “that I'm only looking out for myself. That it’s self-preservation that drives me forward and nothing more!”

  His words struck her as true. He‘d enough enemies. He turned the point of his dagger to himself. Handling it lightly by the blade. “Take this, if you’re worried. I'm going to cook. Then I'm going to eat. You can stay or you can go. You’re welcome to either choice.” He snapped. Anger flared on his face.

  “Keep it!” She pushed it away gently. “How will you protect Arlandus without it?” She smiled before quietly stalking away. Her footprints sinking deeply into the soft jungle floor.

  ***

  Armatrine allowed the cool water to soak her skin as she lay partially submerged. Twin suns reflected across the surface. The tiny lake, more of a pond really, had been their only source of clean water since Arlandus had begun his mediation. She hoped her master knew what he was doing. Sighing she spread herself out, allowing the water to buoy her along the surface. It felt perfect to relax, if only for a moment allowing the cool waters to take care of her exhausted body and rinse away her cares. If only for a moment, she would take this. If being here was a gift from the Three, one which could be revoked, she would enjoy what she could while she was here.

  Her thoughts turned to the boy. His red locks prominently matted atop his head. She didn't fully trust him with her master, yet the man himself seemed to. That would have to be enough for her. Enough for now. He'd been responsible for her death. For her failure. No… her failure had been her own doing. Her death had been her own misadventure. Careless in her angst she had fallen and perished. She hadn't failed as a result of his success, he'd succeeded despite her best efforts. How she had blamed him. What had she visited upon him in the name of vengeance? Yet he was in the forest taking care of her duty while she took care of herself. Perhaps they were interwoven in more ways than one.

  She turned from the coldness she had shown him, remembering something else. As they had fought had he not awoken something else inside her. A yearning. As a girl she had wanted nothing more than to writhe in his arms. As a woman she knew to be wiser and stronger. Had he not brought some of her own kind to ruin? Yet could she work alongside him? There were greater stakes than only her. Than the order. Swimming to the edge she channeled her energy to dry her skin. It worked slowly. She had never taken to the other gifts in the way Arlandus said she should. Pulling her leather hose over her legs she sighed. Her robes and vest came next. Then boots. She stalked back toward the camp. Soon the night would fall and food was cooking. Its smell wafted toward her nostrils making her salivate slightly. Then it came. The voice of her master in her mind.

  Dupree, I have word.

  She quickened her pace.

  ~ The World Below the Islands~

  ~ Thirtieth of the Sheath, Song of Sorrow~

  Hark young horror

  To rise to the skies

  The risen shall fall, the fallen shall rise

  - Children's song

  He'd not mourned her. Not really. There had been no time. Her splintered corpse had toppled from the roiling sky where she had perched all her life. The precarious life of a pirate ship. His Stormkite. His home. Reason had given way to something primal. The urge to survive. He’d set them to work. The mix of sky-pirate and privateer alike. Navy uniforms mixed with the rag tag band of those who had flown in his crew.

  Several he'd shot since he'd assumed command. Mutineers eager to seize power in the name of a new order. Their corpses remained strung outside the make shift encampment they had fashioned from the local flora. Greens and browns merged into one. There would be no navigating as they had found themselves marooned in the unexplored. Away from all the civilisation they had known. Men, he knew, tended to cave in situations such as this. Moral and social order cast aside in the name of primal urge. Several had laid hands on Miss Tyde. Non-consenting she had screamed. She had been rescued. They had also been shot. Their corpses had been burned to ashes. No trace of them remained. At least the mutineers had acted with honour. He wished those had perished in the attack.

  Stranded they had encountered none of the naval force responsible for their downfall besides those who had fallen with them. Those had joined quickly, pressed into his crew. Assimilate or die. It was the same story as always. Hated captain offering a choice of one real option.

  His plan was a simple one. If they wanted to return to the life they had known, they would need to work together. Cast aside all differences and recognise the similarities they found in one another. They had landed with enough pieces, enough working machinery to fashion something of their salvation. It would be no Stormkite. It would be no dreadnaught. Yet it would suffice as a platform through which to rescue themselves. In a way it had been a blessing to be marooned. A shared goal had delayed the inevitability of them working hard to murder one another. The work had bound them together. The hunting privateer and the unwashed sky-pirate. Slowly they had amalgamated enough resources to begin construction. It would be slow, difficult work. He’d made sure of it.

  Rations had been next to nothing. Those which had survived the fall had been almost inedible by the time they had been recovered. Ship’s biscuit had crumbled to dust. Barrels had exploded, their contents spread across the forest floor. Some had attracted wildlife. That had been their sustenance. Each day a labour, each night a fresh feast. He'd be loath to return to the world they had known. For here they had lived as kings of old. He'd read of them. Resplendent in glory. All was theirs for the taking should they wish. These lucky few could live as this forever. He shook the thought from his mind before delusions of grandeur took hold. Nothing was permanent. He longed for the freedom of the skies. He longed to feel the winds on his face at altitude. There was the matter of the advanced navy presence in Neta, he couldn't turn his back could he? Would he?

  He witnessed the work continuing around him. Perhaps those who wished it could leave when the time came. Free to return to whatever life they had come from at the start of this ordeal. He, for one, would love nothing more than staying forever in the vast expanse.

  “Mark for your thoughts Captain.” It was Miss Tyde. She had stuck closer to him during this ordeal. A vicious bastarding pirate he may be, but a man of honour he was. Not a single man would touch her again without her express wishes for him to do so. Still he saw the reason for their desire. Her fair complexion was rare among the natives of Neta. More so that she held a mystique about her. Not many among them knew her history, her life. Her true personality. That plus her delicious physicality made her almost irresistible. He pulled his thoughts back into his head before they found themselves spoken.r />
  “I was just wondering at the marvel of this, that we have created.” He answered her.

  “A floating platform with which to ascend the skies? Men create better every day Captain” she reminded him.

  “Not that,” he recovered. “This harmony we have created between privateer of the crown and pirate of the sky. Working together for survival. In the world above they hang us, we blow them from the sky and undercut them at every opportunity and yet here. Here we find ourselves ascended to something more. A new order.” He sounded enraptured.

  “You make out as if we have crested the wave of a glorious utopia Captain. Yet above the same problems remain. I am worried about the increased military presence in the skies. In actuality while your plan has not been a bad one, I believe a different course of action is perhaps more than prudent” she spoke plainly.

  “Careful Miss Tyde” he gestured toward the strung-up mutineers.

  “I am simply suggesting that you should perhaps press those newer to our numbers for information. One by one. If the stories corroborate then perhaps they are truthful and there is a life for these lily livered dogs in the realms of scummery and piracy” she followed.

  “Aye, shrewd Tyde, shrewd. Yet what be you sayin’ to those who don't corroborate?” He asked, knowing the answer to his own question as she drew her thumb across her slender neck in a slitting motion. “Aye, we kill them. That be the only way, yet what does that do for our new order, our utopia.” He named it hers as well as his own. There seemed a sensibility in forcing her to take ownership of it herself, at least in part.

  “You’re a good man Orochi, she began, “you just work very hard to hide it from yourself”. With that she trod to the grounds and continued her work. Her words troubled him. True as they maybe he trod a fine line with such a green crew between captaincy and mutiny. He tousled his beard, rugged beneath his calloused fingers.

  “Vessel sighted!” The words came unexpected, who would come to a place such as this. Tension grew thicker, an unease among the men, an unease in himself. The navy, come to finish what they had begun. They would fight but they would fall. He snapped to action. Pulling his own ornate telescope from his jacket. Putting the singular lens to his waiting eye he pointed it the direction in which the scout below pointed. Indeed there was a vessel, yet nothing like he feared. Tiny it bobbed, descending the sky toward the land mass below. It would overshoot their camp. One more engine for their monstrosity. One more engine toward salvation.

  “All hands to deck” he ordered. “We are forming a scouting party!”

  “Aye sir! Their voices ascended. United they would fight.

  ~ The World Below the Islands~

  ~ Thirtieth of the Sheath, Song of Sorrow ~

  Deceptive deceivers twist and burn

  The ropes between what's known and learned

  The angels watch with hollow smiles

  The darker ones, they beguile.

  - Ancient writings of The Order of The Pearl

  There had been no time to eat before their departure to nowhere charted, she had not known what they would find yet she had expected nothing. Below the islands of the world she had known, those rich centres of civility. She had felt a chill as he'd relayed them his plan. Her plan. Their plan. There was no denying the touch of the Three upon it, and yet part of her faltered at the thought. Faith so strong giving way to frantic, vibrant terror as she had climbed aboard the small vessel. It had grown more powerful still as the journey had continued. Paralysed she had become, leaving the work to the boy. Arlandus had frowned but understood. The voyage they now embarked upon, was one of heresy. From the holiest of the Order this would be frowned upon. Yet the will of the Three remained and who was Armatrine Dupree to question it?

  Her master had the ship hidden. For how long it had been so he did not disclose. Instead a coy smile crept upon his face, he enjoyed the unpredictability it seemed. A sense of being more than himself. Of defying the odds and being capable of more than people expected of him. He’d sat at the back. His wrinkled hands firmly at the rudder, steering the direction and flow of the engine. When pressed he'd simply remained silent, no wise words, no use of the gift. This was his time now. His cassock, once cream, had become stained with the story of their survival. For now he seemed content with the direction in which he'd moved them.

  They had begun their descent shortly after departure. From his place of mooring it had not been far to the open skies. She suspected they would spend much of their journey in the undercurrents, below the clouds, below the prying eyes of naval telescopes patrolling for total control in the name of Prince Johan. Cruel and weak, he'd turned his back upon his strongest ally. Her blood boiled, seething at the betrayal of those who'd been slain.

  The remainder of the journey had been silent. Arlandus kept his waiting hand upon the aged wooden rudder. Jak made momentary checks and adjustments. The boy had proven himself a capable sailor. Many a year spent at the stern crack of a quartermaster’s whip she suspected had brought about a capable and careful sky-sailor.

  Their descent began gently, the small vessel had eased its way through the clouds. Discreet and silent she had descended toward and then through the blanket of white. Armatrine stole one final glance upwards toward the burning light of the twin suns. Shielding herself from their burning glow yet contradictorily eager to cloak herself in their aura. For their warmth to caress her before the fall.

  Once inside beneath the descent had been wildly different. “Boy! Kill the engines” Arlandus had ordered. Jak had nodded yet made no noise.

  “What do you mean?” She'd asked.

  Hush child, use the gift or they will hear us.

  Who?

  The drakes. There is a long way to fall through these clouds, if the boy kills the power and we remain silent, we fall. Tied in place we should be fine, but not a word out loud!

  Drakes. She had wanted to scream, to fight to demand herself be taken back to the isles. Her stomach lurched as the power died down. The chugging of the vessels heart petering to nothing. The balloon above began to sag as it deflated, wrinkling the leather skin holding them afloat.

  Then came the fall. Gentle at first. Steady. Then velocity had built a great force upon them. As gravity took hold it had become harder to watch.

  Shut your eyes child. Arlandus warned her. An edge to his voice as it resounded in her mind. She did as bade. Perhaps there was logic in his orders. It was likely if something went wrong she would struggle to act. Paralytic fear running powerfully through her veins like tiny icy crystals lodging her firmly in one position.

  She remained silent as they fell. Her hair, now loose from its covering, flapped around her wildly with the wind. Following disorder, just as she was, firmly under the control of the fall. She counted back from ten, slowly, yet the fall continued. The air felt thicker in her lungs as they descended. The clouds tasted strange as they surrounded them. Enveloped in the foggy white completely. Opening her eyes made little difference. She could barely make out the small mast in front of her own face.

  Down Armatrine, there is little you can do now, rest and leave it in the hands of our faithful counterpart. How had he seen her?

  Yes master. She lay at the bottom of the boat. A skyskiff. Cramped, uncomfortable. Yet she remained under the rim of the boat. Above them she heard the piercing shriek of drakes, frenzied with hunger. Had they been spotted?

  “Now!” Arlandus ordered. What could he want, he'd asked nothing of her other than what she was doing.

  The force upon them was suddenly enormous. Above her the engine whirred to life as the skiff righted itself. The great balloon reinflating and holding them afloat. The descent slowed, they were still falling fast but they would crash less violently now when it happened. Above her the boy worked, dancing at and tinkering with the engines. The skiff working hard to obey his instructions. Her engines whirring. They ascended then came level, below the cloud level. It remained darkened yet visibility was better than she’d imag
ined.

  “You may look now Armatrine” Arlandus assured her. Slowly she sat to be greeted by amazement. Eyes wide they drank in the wonder.

  The world below was far from the hellscape she had imagined it to be. Below a lush green body of water roiled. Wave upon wave crashed, foaming white and dispersing. To the east the clearest sands, white and black marbled together to form intricate patterns, beautiful, undisturbed by the uncaring foot of man. Behind the lushest jungle.

  “Land ho!” Cried Arlandus chuckling.

  “You old sky dog!” The boy commented. “Not even the greatest of captains would attempt anything as daring!” His voice, a genuine edge of impressed upon excitement.

  Armatrine remained silent. Enraptured by the ornate beauty around her. What was this place? By the Three she could live and die here. By the Three she could love it.

  ***

  Her protests had gone unheeded. Arlandus had disappeared as soon as the skiff had been set to land, he'd cited much in the way of the Three, his ravings becoming something more than they'd been in the jungle. Something deeper, she’d no way of knowing, increasing her worries further.