Fire & Lightning - Ch 2

Sirrah Bear had swam half the length of the island before giving in to his concaved lungs. His shoulders and back were burning, and the water was slowly seeping the warmth from under his fur. It was only a league or so more until he reached a southward current, where he could rest and float his way to the continent. He had been stuck in this skin for a year now, and had almost forgotten how soft his hair and hands used to be. There was nothing like running on two legs—that was a joy he’d give anything to feel again. Instead his black fur and rough paws were good for little but climbing trees, few of which grew here.

The setting sun drew his mind back to the task at hand; he had to find help, and there were only a few people out at sea that could provide that. He would head to the houseboat where Zachary lived, and from there he would find a ship to follow, or perhaps Zachary could take him half the journey. Either way he had to get out of the water before sundown, or he’d lose sight of the shore. Slowly and consistently, he paddled his way forward, searching the horizon for an orange metal hull.

It had been roughly fifteen minutes before he saw the houseboat. In that time the sun had set, and little stars were shining overhead. Sirrah Bear dragged himself to the bright orange hull and tugged at the anchor-rope. The boat didn’t stir, so he propelled himself upwards, landing soaked on the foredeck of the boat. Lights were on in the cabin, and a shape opened the door, outlined by the white electrical light coming from within.

“Who is that...Justin? Justin is that you?” The shape became more clear as it stepped further on the deck. A tall man, presumably a sailor, looked hard at the sopping mess of fur. He wore a sheepskin vest over rough linen, and leather moccasins protected his feet from the new wooden planking on the deck.

“Tis I, the ghost of your brother, come to haunt this meager dwelling,” Justin growled, making the best of his low vocal cords. Zachary laughed, coming forward to punch his half-brother’s muscled arm.

“For a moment I thought this wouldn’t work, and I couldn’t stand watching and waiting for you.” There was a bit of tremor in his voice, but they both ignored it. It was hard for Justin to look at his brother’s deeply human face, so different from his but similar in little ways he had gotten used to. It was like a mirror had sharpened the lines of his jaw, cutting into the round cheeks and straightening the curly hair into a low ponytail. Once he had envied this face, but he had learned to give up such emotions a long time ago.

Zachary turned on the lantern outside, and brought out a pitcher of water and a cut of fish that he had cooked for supper. Justin was almost afraid to ask for more, but Zachary saved him from embarrassment by bringing out the whole fish for seconds. They talked for a few moments, catching up on a week of stirring activity. Before Sirrah Bear had “drowned”, there had been a public trial and a few days of imprisonment, just long enough for him to make a final visit with one of the elder mages, a courtesy title only. That was how they had planned his escape: Leon and his tight following, called a band of pirates by the general island population. Justin didn’t have much to say; a special memory had been brought to the forefront of his mind, and suddenly he retreated away from the prodding questions Zachary put forth.

“Really, it wasn’t all that exciting. I never thought I would die, I never worried.” Justin drew his legs underneath of him and stood up.

“I would have,” Zachary started. “Thought I was going to die, that is.” His eyes were gloomy and hard, the same eyes that chastised his brother when Justin had first run away, causing his father much distress. Justin was silent, breaking his brother’s gaze and looking out at the stars.

“I should get you going,” Zachary finally spoke, unaware of the effect of his comment. Justin was brought back to the present, and nodded in confirmation. “You can take the cabin, if you want--”

“I’ll sleep outside tonight.” Justin had gotten used to the outdoors, and after three days cramped in a moldy cell, he needed the fresh ocean air. Zachary nodded, climbing up the ladder to the control room. A tremor shook the boat as the engines warmed, and the anchor dislodged itself and piled onto the deck away from Justin. Even with the new navigational system, Zachary knew the skies by heart. He followed the Adelen constellation south, glancing to the deck where his brother sat, the Prince Born Under the Stars: heir to the island kingdom named after the brightest lights in the sky.

~~~

The island had its final frost that night. Spring was coming, but little progress was being made to advance it. The tall pines that grew on the island kept shipbuilding the main source of revenue for the people who lived there, but for a long time underground black markets pulled in sailors and pirates from the mainland and other coastal cities. Dorian had plans to continue this trade, but had kept his fingers out of it while the king and queen still reigned. They were far from the most powerful kingdom on the western coast, but they were too tied up with the mainland royalty to try and usurp them.

It had been pure luck that the king was assassinated on a visit to the mainland, and from there it didn’t take much to claim the queen died from grief. Dorian had slowly made his way up through the chaos and appointed himself minister of Adelen, where he promptly assumed control of trade and the courts. All while this had been happening, nobody suspected a thing. Not even Justin, heir apparent to the throne. He was only sixteen, and his memories of Dorian were centered around diplomatic visits from the mainland and mesmerising gifts from prominent engineers. Electricity was a wonder back then, and magic had mostly fallen out of practice. Everything was explainable, just as Dorian’s rise was predetermined and widely forecasted even when his mother was still alive.

When Dorian returned to the island, he was met by a crowd of spectators who had come to view the execution. They were excited and afraid, falling back into the superstitions Dorian was so keen on getting rid of. The fact that an elder mage had to witness the execution was bad enough, and he never understood the tradition of a two-finger farewell. He despised the pagan customs and because of that despised the island, but already trade was prospering. War was grumbling on the mainland, and the secrets that would make him rich found their way to his ears, carried by the strength of the southern winds.