Fire Born, page 11
"I would advise against having no secondary plans, brother, for that's when things go terribly wrong," she said plainly.
"Don't take me for a fool. I do have secondary plans in place, but they are none of your business."
Aurelie gritted her teeth in utter fury at the words that slipped from her older brother's lips. He trusted her with the pale paper, and yet he didn't believe in her faith. To him, it seemed, she wasn't entirely trustworthy.
"All will be fine by the next moon."
"Yes," drawled Aurelie. "That reassures me completely. I pray you don't perish with these sudden exploits of yours."
CHAPTER TEN
Lucas gazed upon the water in utter delight. The sight was beautiful in the winter sun. Even though it was supposedly the colder season, there wasn't much to prove it was so. On the island of Haast and its surrounding Isles, the heat never really left them. Lucas was almost afraid of his adventure into Andriis. He knew the weather there would be much different.
His hands clenched around the old, thick rope that had circled its way along the barrier, preventing him from falling into the oceans treacherous depths.
The water sparkled and glitter. If Lucas didn't understand the truth behind its luminescence, he would assume that Faeries were at work – although they could still be simply stories of myth and legend. No evidence existed to prove they'd ever lived, but he liked to believe they did. The Faeries were tricksters, but there was nothing evil spoken of them. They helped those in need, the ones that genuinely deserved salvation.
The ship rocked from side to side as the turbulent ocean greeted them.
When he peered over the edge, Lucas would claim he saw a Siren. But the creature didn't look at all like the myths depicted. In fact, she was quite beautiful.
Cassidy hissed, an action that he hadn't yet become used to. As a woman who despised all, her attitude she lacked common sense. "You should be working," she said, eyeing him with distaste.
"My shift has ended," Lucas said. "I'm allowed up here."
The ocean sung to him like nothing else before; she was beautiful as could be. Cassidy, the wife of Captain Orion, was an old hag who held little joy within her steady beating heart.
"You're the cook," sneered Cassidy. "Your place isn't up here but down there."
It was insulting, and the meaning behind her words were condemning, but Lucas refused to bow to her. "I'll go where I want."
Her cold reptilian eyes stared back into his own. "You'll go where I say," she demanded. "It isn't your place to question me."
Lucas despised her. Cassidy was a cruel woman who held little intelligence, and her logic upon hating Lucas was lacking. She had no reason to form such opinions about her husband's cook. While he was a man, that in itself could hardly summon such hatred.
"I don't have a place beneath you."
"How dare you!" she gasped, utterly enraged. "I've worked here for years on end, long before I was the wife of Captain Orion. What is so special about you?"
Lucas blinked. Her spitting rage had made little sense, but perhaps jealousy was the cause of such anger. But even that couldn't be accounted for. Cassidy displayed a horrible temper; she was old and vengeful. It made him sick. What else would this woman do while in the midst of a rage? He couldn't say, for the thoughts weren't tasteful in the slightest. In fact, they were quite dreadful indeed.
He said no more. He feared she would order the Captain to rip his tongue out for all eyes to see.
"Orion," Cassidy continued, "has never hired a worker as young as you." Lucas had to suppress the urge to smile pleasantly at those words. "It took me years to get his appreciation. His heart was much harder to hold. I can't see how you managed it."
Cassidy clearly meant for this to be insulting, but to Lucas, it was quite the opposite. The words she spoke were complimentary. Captain Orion believed in little Lucas, and that hurt her more than anything else. Orion hardly knew anything about the boy!
"I've had lots of practice," said Lucas. "I cooked mostly for my father. I can bake as well. Perhaps your husband saw my skill as it was." Lucas could remember the interview well enough; the Captain was a man who inspired fear in the hearts of many. Perhaps it was a well-learned trait from his father, but Lucas wouldn't know. Orion knew nothing of his skills. The Captain had simply given him a chance to prove himself worthy.
"I doubt it," sneered Cassidy. "My husband doesn't usually see things for what they are."
Lucas frowned. It had become rather clear to him that the Captain's wife didn't love Orion in the slightest. Perhaps he was merely a means to an end.
"Well, I can assure you," he said with a frown, "I do know how to cook. I can also fight, but I would much prefer to live in a kitchen, as it's where I belong. Your husband made the right choice when he hired me."
Cassidy eyed him in disgust. "A man has no place in the kitchen," she hissed.
Lucas glared back at her, trying to keep a hold of his frustration. "Captain Orion told me not to listen to people who say such things."
Lucas hated those like her. They judged another merely because they could. Having no interest in getting to know the person who they regarded in disgust. It was illogical.
He turned back to the ocean. The sight was far more bearable than her.
"Boy," Cassidy said. He twitched his brown fingers against the wood, acknowledging the cold-hearted woman who stood behind him. He vaguely wondered if she would throw him off the ship. It wouldn't surprise him if she did. Not really. But it should.
"Ma'am?" Lucas asked.
"You shouldn't be here," Cassidy spat. She had already made the matter clear enough, but unfortunately for her, it wasn't Cassidy who made the decisions.
Lucas shook his head, his eyes brightening at the sight of silver dolphins that dived between the waves in a display of elegance. They were beautiful, and it was a far lovelier sight than Haast. The land of sand and chains of gold. On the island, slavery wasn't loved, but the money it brought about was well respected. Nobody in the realm could claim fondness for Haast; only the greedy would admit to such love.
Lucas found the ocean far more welcoming, and even if a storm was upon them, he still would've loved it far more than Haast. It wasn't barren or desolate, but full of life and light. Lucas almost wished he himself was a siren. He believed life would be much easier.
Cassidy stormed away from Lucas in such a rage that many looked upon them both in amusement. She had quite the reputation when it came to her temper, and all the sailors knew this well enough. Many made sure to avoid Cassidy and her horrid nature.
Miss Joanne, a young woman that had taken to swordsmanship far more than knitting, snickered mirthfully at the retreating Cassidy. Joanne was a small blonde girl who had barely passed the age of sixteen.
"Poor lad," huffed Samuel. "No one deserves that."
"He's rather pretty," said Edmund, another worker on The Siren. Unlike Joanne, he possessed no beauty and a certain lack of teeth. He was revolting and often smelt like dead fish.
"Not that you'd know much about that..." muttered Samuel.
Joanne sighed in exasperation. Samuel and Edmund were completely different, right down to the colour of their skin, yet they were the best of friends.
She glimpsed back at the boy, his shoulders slumped, his fingers trembling. This was what he looked like through her orange-eyed gaze.
"Someone should talk to him," said Edmund in a slightly apologetic manner. "I'm not gonna do it."
Joanne rolled her eyes. "And why should any of us?"
"You're beautiful." Samuel smirked at the young woman. Although she possessed much beauty, Joanne was rather sensitive about one particular matter: her teeth. They were quite large. "He'll like you best," Samuel added.
"He might favour men," quipped Joanne.
"Doubt it," replied Edmund. He frowned, squinting at the young lad, for in his own mind he couldn't see this stranger liking men. It was quite obvious, as George had walked past the boy shirtless a few times, and not a single glance had come his way. If Edmund had ever eyed another man, it would certainly be George Clive.
They watched as Joanne walked calmly towards the boy. He was a few years younger than her, and many would describe him as handsome – or he had the potential to be so. Lucas was only fourteen years old and had yet to reach such a stage in life. But there was potential, and he seemed to be a kind lad. Overall, Joanne’s excitement simply came from the fact that it had been a long time since she'd associated with another that was near her own age.
Lucas glanced at her in surprise, and Joanne blinked. His eyes were rather pretty, a bright brown colour. Most would assume that brown was dull, but these eyes sparkled with life. It brought a smile to her lips, revealing her large and wonky teeth.
"Ignore Cassidy, she's a right old hag! Worships the God of War far too much."
Lucas frowned, as he'd never heard of such a deity before. For sure, there were the Warriors, a supreme race of higher beings that many prayed to before entering battle. But they weren't named that specifically, and he knew of nobody who didn't worship them. The Warriors were well respected and loved by many, a shining light upon victory that would be theirs.
"The God of War? Who's that?" he asked.
“Oh,” said Joanne, “he’s the mightiest warrior, death’s partner in all things.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard of him before,” Lucas muttered. “I haven’t heard many myths.”
Joanne frowned, her thin lips pulling at pale skin.
“It’s not that I’m uninterested,” he continued. “Myths simply aren’t real. They’re essentially pointless.”
Joanne snorted. “Don’t let anyone here overhear such words.”
He blinked in surprise. “Why not?”
Joanne smirked, imagining the chaos it would create. “They all believe in the God of War. It’s best not to insult them; George is quite good with his sword.” She looked over at the muscled blonde, a delicious sight to be seen. Only a blind woman would disagree.
Joanne beamed wildly at the young lad. “I’m Ann, Jo, or Annie. Whichever suits you.”
Lucas chortled at the hand that she had offered. He took it, joyful at the prospect of friendship. He’d never had one before in the first place. “I’m Lucas,” he told her. “But you can call me Cas; everyone does.”
“Where did you come from?” Asked Jo.
Lucas looked down at his skin in disbelief. It was rather obvious he was from Haast.
Joanne smirked. “I didn’t want to presume.”
“Well, I come from Haast,” laughed Lucas. “Obviously. I haven’t seen you around here before? Not that I’ve been around long enough! B-but I would’ve noticed someone as beautiful as you. I mean, well…” He trailed off in utter embarrassment.
“You can’t talk to women,” said Joanne.
“No,” grumbled Lucas. “I’m terrible at it. Especially beautiful women.” He seemed quite convinced on the matter, but his knowledge was based upon experience.
“The God of War must hate you,” snickered Joanne.
“Why?” Lucas snapped, offended. “Is he a marvel at romance?”
Lucas had always been awkward around women. He certainly didn’t know how to speak to them. But for some reason, one that he had no answers to, talking to Joanne was far more comfortable than he thought it would be. He had noticed her. It would be hard not to, for she was quite beautiful.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she scoffed. “Nobody’s a marvel at romance!”
“I wouldn’t know,” muttered Lucas.
Joanne leaned against the wooden railing. She was short in height, and the same couldn’t be said for Lucas. He wasn’t tall or short, but Joanne didn’t know the average height for a fourteen-year-old. She was a lonely child with no friends, and the sword she carried was the only gift her dying father had granted her.
Joanne knew nothing of romance, much like Lucas. The only love she’d ever had was from her parents. A gift from the Gods.
“Neither do I,” Joanne said.
Lucas frowned, looking down upon the ocean. He’d never heard of this God before.
Not that this was surprising, Lucas had spent most of his life learning how to kill. Praying to a God simply wasn’t done, or on the rare occasion that it was, the prayers wished only for another’s death. What else would an assassin pray for? James, his father, was a cruel man who felt no need to pray. He believed his own hands were Gods, and so was he himself. Lucas had never possessed such arrogance.
He blushed once again. Jo’s beautiful features seemed to shine within the light of the sun. For sure, she wasn’t perfect. Nobody was. But Lucas was unused to such beauty.
Joanne would claim differently. She was certain that her cheekbones were too high, and her teeth were much too large. She’d always wished for plump pink lips, but instead, they were thin. And she despised her pale skin, as it burnt well. Nobody liked to have skin that burnt red as blood.
Lucas, compared to Joanne, was night. His skin couldn’t be classified as black, but it was quite close. Dark, long, slightly wonky fingers tapped against the wooden barrier that kept him from falling into the ocean below. It was a distraction.
“I hope you stick around, kid. It’ll be nice to have you aboard.”
Lucas pouted, “you can’t be that much older than me!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emlyn knew darkness well enough, as she'd been locked in a cupboard many times for the cruel, sadistic pleasure of her sister, Yule Volun. It was well-known that Emlyn had a great fear for small spaces. She'd possessed such a fear since Emlyn was a mere babe. The reason for this was unknown.
It was simply the way it was. Emlyn knew with such certainty that she felt trapped. Wherever she currently was, there could only be darkness and thin walls that surrounded her. This was enough to bring a scream to her lips, but even then, not a single screech slipped from her tongue. That certainly wasn't her fault, no, because this was something entirely different.
"My boy, don't be so harsh upon yourself. The Voluns know they need us," said a voice that she couldn't quite place. That was unsurprising, for her uncle and sister had hidden her away from the world she hardly knew. This man wasn't somebody Emlyn had met, but the voice was sinister all the same. There would be no tears tonight. She bit her tongue fiercely, refusing to cry.
"They haven't found Lady Emlyn yet; she's completely disappeared. You know as well as I that these plans involve her, she must be found. Her family cannot know!" another insisted. This voice was different. Emlyn couldn't remember the last time she had felt or heard such kindness. There was warmth within this man's speech. She dearly wished to see his face, but he was but a mystery.
The man of such cruelty and sin laughed, although the sound could hardly be described that way. The sunlight no longer glowed within the prisms of her own mind. A torturous half-life. "The girl will be found," he said. Emlyn glanced around, searching desperately for light. "The Sephora needs her."
He cackled. Emlyn could very well imagine his rotted skin, for only a man of such an appearance could laugh in a manner that spoke of pure evil. "She's the light, and those fools haven't even realised it yet! You'd think with all their arrogance and intelligence, they would realise what they so clearly possess."
"My Lord," said the man of warmth. "The Voluns have always been fools."
"Right you are, Callum," he said. "The Vyries have always had their wits about them. Destroying the deception shall be easy. They've been left about for far too many years. We should have killed them thousands of years ago and been done with it all. Good riddance, I say!"
Callum scoffed. "Their doom will ease the Gods. They cannot hide forever. My Lord, how long shall we wait?"
And with that, Emlyn saw the lustre glow. It shone ever so bright, luminous in a manner that simply couldn't be described. "We've waited long enough. Remember our words ,boy. Until the end."
Within the light, Emlyn saw her hand. She breathed in shock. It simply couldn't be!
"With death, we seek life, my Lord. The riding man upon thunder and sea shall greet us as he. A man who wears no face, but the true mask of grace. May we never bow, as we are the gliding bird, his servants that cannot be led astray."
Emlyn could see them in the flesh. "Yes, Callum, never forget who we are. I certainly will not, death's servant shall never bow to simpletons. The day I admire a Volun will never come!"
That was the problem. Perhaps she should've been more focused on the words they seemed to speak. They certainly were frightening, nobody could deny such a thing as that. As she gazed upon the two men who stood proudly, she saw their fleshy dark skin. What exactly was so shocking about that? Nothing at all! The truth was far more startling, Emlyn wore no flesh. She looked to be a ghost, with fingers pale and translucent.
