Tharos walked up onto the deck, stretching. He looked around for other crew members. As he saw Mako he walked over. “Hello, are you all right?”
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“No. I feel like i’ve been half drowned, dredged back up, had the water in my lungs sucked out, a thousand jellyfish stung me, and hit on the head with a wooden plank. Which is ironic, because each of those things actually happened to me.”
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Tharos honestly had no idea what to say. “Well.” He paused. “At least you’re not dead I guess.” He sat down beside Mako. Idly he moved his fingers around, letting fire dance across them.
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“Is that magic, or you just able to vent heat, or what?” Mako asked curiously.
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“Magic. It’s an exercise to help build your stamina.”
Tharos looked at his hand, he concentrated. The fire seemed to gather in a vaguely serpentine shape. It slithered through his fingers.
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“Fire magic, eh? Well, I’m only able to do water.”
Mako drops onto the water below, before starting to walk on it. “My tribe pretty much only used this to help get around, because if I’m being honest, it’s hard trying to get to places, when you live on a tiny island.”
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Tharos stares in open mouthed shock. Not because Mako was walking on water, but because he dropped down there with no discernible way back up. “uh Mako, I hope you can make waves.” He called down, as the ship steadily began to move away from Mako.
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“Just gimme a sec.” Mako ran over to the side, before using the water to give him a boost upwards, and grabbing the side of the boat. “ A little help?”
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Tharos ran over, and grabbed his arm. With the help of some ghost sailors, they hauled Mako aboard.
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“Thanks. Sorry ‘bout that.” Mako said apologetically. “I didn’t really think about that.”
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“That.” Tharos pauses to catch his breath. “Was extremely dangerous. Please don’t do it again. We haven’t even left the Refuge yet.”
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Magic…
Magic…
Dolphus’ tired reverie slowly tumbled its way back down, pulling the sleep from his eyes as his lids cracked open just enough to witness what had kept him conscious - the repeated mention of magic pricking his ears and a tumultuous noise made by everyone rushing to help Mako back up.
Stupid. Dolphus exhaled in disgust. He isn’t wet at all… Probably magic. I hate magic so much.
His eyes closed again, trying once more to lull him into a peaceful slumber, but one thought persisted in his head, refusing to let him rest. That thought was how utterly intolerable, inexcusable, and repulsive magic was, corrupting everything it touched. No dependency could so cripple society, dull the minds of men, and so mar the perfectly fine mangled stump of an arm as that horrible institution, with its defying the laws of physics and the laws of good conduct. He might even go so far as to say nothing simultaneously terrified and revolted him so efficiently as the existence of magic.
Well, except maybe corpsespawn creatures. But those had the goodness to live in places where Dolphus didn’t, and also were kind enough to leave the sea alone, he was sure. But, rather than get into that train of thought, Dolphus allowed his eyelids to creak open a tad, silently witnessing events but only cognitively comprehending a few of them.
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“Sorry. Though i doubt that’s a good enough apology.”
Noticing him, Mako walked over to Dolphus, before snapping his fingers in Dolphuses ears. “Sunshine or not, time to haul yourself out of sleep. Whomever is the captain, certainly wouldn’t enjoy you excessively sleeping, no matter how bad the nightmares.”
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Dolphus flinched and scowled at the sudden, sharp noise, which made his head ring. If Mako was trying to sour his reputation with the entire crew, he was well on his way. Trying to think of a retort, Dolphus eyed the stern and figured proximity to Mariner might keep Mako from being a child.
The irony is not lost on me.
“Go jump off the boat again.” Dolphus spat, collecting his cane with his one hand and striding away from Mako in a huff. It looks quiet up there. Maybe if that clod doesn’t follow me I can exist without Mariner even noticing.
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Mariner had not moved during the entire situation. He heard the footsteps of someone approaching, but did not turn his head to look. He flexed his fingers slightly, his longsword providing some reassurance.
On the island, just visible in the early light of day, were ruins. These ruins contrasted the forest around them, bright reds, yellows, and turquoise. It was these ruins that held his gaze, and filled his mind with pain.
drip
He felt tears building in his eyes. He felt pang after pang, as memories plagued his mind.
“I don’t remember her.” Without realizing, he’d vocalized the thought.
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Having made considerable distance from Mako, Dolphus relaxed, strode to a quiet stop, adjusted his collar, swallowed, and opened his mouth to politely inquire if he would be too much of a nuisance to perhaps look about at the sea in silence.
If one could view Mariner’s front, one would gradually notice Dolphus leaning to one side to try and understand what in the world was happening. No, there was no one in front of him. No, there was nothing major they were coming up towards, unless… That land formation, with the cluster of ruins nestled in among the autumn leaves. Perhaps there was some significance to them?
Dolphus dared not to speak. This was a reverie, and an unhappy one at that. And yet if he was standing and listening to the entire thing, it would be an affront, undoubtedly, to discover him eavesdropping. So Dolphus backpedaled a few steps, in silence, and then pronounced his approached more noisily as he stepped forward again, rubbing his eye as if he had just awoken.
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Mariner was so lost in thought he hardly noticed Dolphus. His presence did register however. He felt conflicted. He felt like companionship was the right thing to seek, but he also knew with this crew, it might be turned on him as a weapon.
Eventually, the pain won out. “Do you remember your mother?” Mariner spoke softly. Sorrow evident in his voice. “I don’t.” Tears were flowing freely now.
His fingers tightened, the tip of his longsword dug into the deck. Leaning on it for support.
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Dolphus almost dropped his cane. The breeze pushing the ship ever forward seemed to die for a moment, although perhaps only to him.
Where did Mariner go? Where was the large, armored individual with a checkered past, the committer of some unspeakable deed in the most decrepit pub on the isles? What happened to this monstrous knight hidden beneath layers of steel, unknowable archfiend to all that was wicked and irredeemable in the universe?
And who, in his stead, replaced him with Dolphus?
The approach.
Dolphus very quietly moved to Mariner’s right, as far forward as the deck would allow without getting too close to the edge, and also not getting too close to Mariner. Just enough for him to see, if he wanted, whom he was speaking with.
His wing quivered beneath its cape. Not a chance. I’d rather share that with Muck-o than divulge to Mr. Marine. But the fish are biting, and I’ll let him have a nibble.
“The stars.” He replied, feeling the silence with his fingers to gauge how loud to speak. He was quieter than Mariner had been, but not much quieter. “I remember the stars in her eyes made everything else glow.” He had to stop putting so much pressure on his cane, as his arm was starting to wiggle about like a twig in the wind. “I was there the moment she died. I felt her pulse stop.”
“Now there are no more stars.” Dolphus looked up at the last few fading lights of night, partly because he was getting sentimental and partly because a tear was starting to form and tipping his head was the only way to keep it from crawling out of his eye. “Those lights are liars, and so is any light that illuminates or shines in the dark.”
“The world is dark.” Dolphus’ voice also carried evident sorrow, but it was a callous, shallow wall, to hide his actual emotions. Perhaps that wall was audibly obvious, or perhaps the hollow ringing the emotion behind it made as it tried to break out. “And I don’t know if it will ever be light again.”
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Mariner listened to Dolphus’ story. In that fraction of a moment, he saw in this boy, a reflection of himself.
When Dolphus had finished, Mariner waited a moment to ensure nothing more was forthcoming. “When my mother was killed, I felt anger. I set out alone, and brought the perpetrators to justice. It was not enough, I hungered for more.” In speaking these words Mariner seemed to regain some of his martial bearing.
“Consumed by vengeance, I led my people in war after war. Even the hottest fire eventually putters out. When it did, I found that my rage had been all I had left of her. I don’t remember her face, her voice, her laugh, or even her name. I never got the chance to tell her mine.” Mariner sighed. “I stand this vigil to honour her, and all my people. Everyone I failed. That island was my home once.”
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It seemed as though the weight of responsibility Mariner was burdening himself with might have been his primary motivation for dumping the position of captain onto somebody else. Nevertheless, his reply brought Dolphus back to reality, and he looked up at the motionless head of this elusive individual.
Perhaps, Dolphus thought, the old Gorov tradition of sizing up everyone you meet and stuffing them into a pigeonhole of thousands of others who fit the same class and cognitive level would have to come to a close. It was clear the personality of this unpardonable patron of the Drunken Mule was perhaps a pinch more perplexing than he had first perceived.
“I am sorry.” The cane was rested against his hip. “I never did shake your hand.”
The hand was offered, his elbow at a ninety degree, looking up at the slotted mask of the leader of this expedition. To Mariner Dolphus’ face was as soft and untainted by the harsh realities of life as ever, despite the water still lurking in his eyes; in Dolphus’ mind, however, he appeared as gentlemanly as he could be capable of mustering.
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