Blue Words - Part I

by M.C. Edwards

of air as it zoomed past and circled around. Gudrik struggled to hold his position, which didn’t really matter, he held no intentions of lingering anyway.

  Gudrik shot up into the air, pumping his giant wings as hard as he could and gaining altitude swiftly to hide in cloud. It was a great natural instinct, but for one unfortunate complication. A side effect of the beautiful, sunny Queensland weather was a distinct lack of clouds. With a panicked glance down he noticed the machine lifting after him.

  Now this was a situation Gudrik had never been in before. In his time, the sky had never been man’s domain. Even amongst The Twelve he was the only one who had regularly taken to flight. The others had always believed it reserved for their gods.

  Gudrik tucked into a dive and rolled into fast, evasive weaving patterns to lose the metallic beast. He headed east, towards the ocean and south, away from home. The last thing he wished to do was draw his hunters to the safe house. Gudrik’s speed and manoeuvrability allowed him to soon lose sight of the threat, but as he glided, still south, breathing heavily the return of silence did not ease his concern. How exactly he had been found in the first place?

  The Warlock was about as far as possible from an expert in the modern day sciences, but that had been no coincidence. It was clear to him that he had been tracked by some means. Tracking in mid flight was a feat which had been impossible in his time, even for The Twelve. He wasn’t about to go as far as saying that George was right about his trip being a bad decision, but from there on he decided to stay out of sight and head home.

  Gudrik tucked his wings in and plunged toward the shimmering ocean waters below. As he fell he opened his veins. “Aegirstus!” he shouted. Gudrik’s wings flittered into a trail of blue droplets as he stretched his arms out and broke the surface of the water.

  Gliding deep into the refreshing embrace of the Pacific Ocean, Gudrik clenched and winced with pain as the change took hold. Enveloped in a cloud of bubbles, his fingers and toes cracked as they elongated and flaps of skin crept through the space between them. The flesh on his neck tore apart exposing long, bloody gashes which formed into flapping gills. He sped through the waters, staying deep and heading north, only emerging on occasion to check his surroundings for some landmark or feature which he recognised.

  Once the pain of the transformation had passed the experience became quite pleasurable. Perfect water temperatures and pristine reef were a decadent feast for the senses and after a long, cooling swim through shoals of fish and tropical gardens of coral, he finally he found himself looking upon the jagged rock formations of the Serpent’s Jaw.

  He paused floating behind the breakers looking towards the beach house. A strained look covered his face, a look which his stoney face almost hid, a worried look. He dived down ploughing through the water to an overhanging piece of reef he often fished. He circled it several times before snatching a large cod out of its hole and heading ashore. The Warlock choked and fought for air as his body cracked and snapped back to normal. As he trudged up the sand, it clung tightly to his wet feet.

  Whether he wished to admitted it or not, the experience had shaken him, forced the Warlock to accept that there was much in this modern world which he did not yet understand. His vast years of experience may count for far less than he believed. He may have to turn to the Inscribed or even George for more help than he intended, just as she had told him he would. That last thought put a burr in his throat. He coughed and shook himself dry. The Warlock walked back into the beach house, still damp and stomping a trail of water and sandy footprints as he went. “How did you go?” asked George, disapproval dripping from her face.

  “Uneventful,” he grunted. “Just ended up fishing.” Gudrik slapped the cod down onto the table. There was no way he was ever going to admit George was right; Gudrik was far too stubborn for that. He left the room before questions could be asked.

  For another fortnight, the makeshift family played and frolicked, free of all cares in their private tropical paradise, though the idyllic beach side retreat was not without its dramas. There was the frantic morning when one of Tabitha’s precious little pink bows, which had to be in her hair everyday, disappeared. Tears streamed from her distraught little face and the roars of her woe drove even the hardest of Inscribed warriors to scamper around on their bellies searching every crack and crevasse. Paw was the hero of that campaign, trotting from under the table with the bow held high above his head in victory and chuckling his muffled laugh. He received a kiss on the cheek for his bravery.

  Then there was scandal when George stumbled upon Teefa and Neasa kissing passionately in a hammock late one night. The discovery finally prompted the girls to announce a secret which Paw had kept for an eternity, declaring their love. Neasa blushed quietly while Teefa’s furious eyes dared anyone to have a problem with it. Of course none did, in fact Brood suddenly developed a keen interest in their activities, always tagging along with them wherever they would go. “I knew all along,” he boasted, when out of earshot of course, “It’s the the only reason I’ve never had either of them.”

  As the summer reached its peak, the Inscribed even surprised them with a special Christmas for the little princess, organising gifts, food and fun. George thanked them profusely, she hadn’t even realised the date. “We aren’t Christian, but we thought she would enjoy it,” Kahn said as Tabitha received a pink kite from a crudely dressed Santa with no fingers on his right hand. The rest of the day was spent swimming and playing on the beach, until all were red and sunburnt.

  Each was a small matter, but still they seemed to make for many laughs and helped to draw the group together.....to draw the family together. The safe house as it had always been known suddenly began to be referred to by all simply as ‘home’.

  A couple of nights later, New Year’s night to the outside world, it was once again just the immediate family. They were sitting around a large meticulously stacked driftwood fire, as they often did. It crackled and burned brightly against the speckled night sky. The heat radiating from the licking flames provided a pleasant contrast as it fought with the cool breeze blowing in across the ocean. Tabitha lay on a towel beside Pup and her kite, curled up and deep in sleep, drained from the long day and lulled by the warmth of the fire. The needles of the Casuarinas rustled and rattled a gentle lullaby.

  George stared into the crackling, orange tongues of flame. Her fingers fondled the locket which rested between her breasts, not by any conscious means, simply through pure habit. “It is precious to you?” came the Warlock’s raspy voice out of the blue, his sudden words shattering the tranquil silence.

  “What?” George replied.

  He motioned to the locket, “I have often noticed you playing with it.”

  “Oh yeah. Brad gave it to me; it has a lock of his hair in it.” She smiled into the fire. “Tabitha’s father. She has his eyes,” George added.

  “Where is he?”

  “Brad died almost two years ago,” she replied. “Just after she was born.”

  “How?” George’s smile left her.

  “The dickhead wiped himself out driving home drunk from a buck’s night,” she spat it in her bitchiest tone. “They say he died instantly. Well I hope he did. The wreck burned to the ground with him in it.”

  “Things were not well with the two of you?” the Warlock inquired.

  “No, quite the opposite. I loved him intensely and I have missed him every day since his death. But at the same time I hate him for making such a stupid decision, a decision which impacted his family so dramatically. The selfish prick.” She shoved another branch onto the fire as if jabbing it into Brad’s ribs, embers sprayed into the air.

  “I doubt he meant to die,” consoled Gudrik.

  “Maybe not, but when all is said and done, Tabitha has to grow up without knowing him doesn’t she?” she asked in reply. “Anyway, what about you? Ever had a wife?” asked George, jolting the conversation along, away from the emotional storm that was her life.

 
; “Aye, long ago. An amazing woman. She was taken from me,” Gudrik replied.

  “I guess it was inevitable that she would age and you wouldn’t,” suggested George.

  “It was, but Elya never had a chance to grow old. It was a choice I made a generation earlier which took her from me before her time.” His eyes stared across the fire, as if there was something in the distance only he could see.

  “Kyran?” George asked. Gudrik nodded, turning his deep blue eyes back to her.

  The two stared awkwardly at each other; the crackle of flames and the slow crashing of waves the soundtrack to their moment. George placed her hand gently on Gudrik’s knee. Slowly she leaned in towards him, gently licking her lips in anticipation. “We had better take the little one up to bed,” said Gudrik suddenly in an effort to break the silence, completely and utterly ignorant to what had just been about to happen. George pulled back and nodded, fussing with her hair and hiding her reddening cheeks. Effortlessly, he scooped the small child up and cradled her in his strong arms. Pup led the way as they made the short trek back through the arch and up the hill. Gudrik gently laid Tabitha on her mattress and closed her door, cringing with every creak of the floorboards.

  George sat down at the kitchen table tying to get her