_____________________________________________________
Truth, be more precious to me than eyes
Of happy love; burn hotter in my throat
Than passion, and possess me like my pride;
More sweet than freedom, more desired than
joy,
More sacred than the pleasing of a friend.
--Max Eastman
_____________________________________________________
When Evvy entered the large boat, she was quite sure that she had ever seen something so large that floated on water. Blinking rapidly, she looked wildly around her, making sure not to bump into any of the hundreds of men on deck. They were shouting at each other, at themselves, at the weather, at the ship, all in the complicated language of Madabian. All Evvy could do was look blankly around her surroundings and watch her footing.
Her Pahan, Sandry, Tris, and Daja had been whisked away once again by Jadof and Dasnie, giving no explanations to their students. It was really starting to irk Evvy to no end. Fuming as she watched her Pahan leave, she called after him, "What do you think I'm supposed to do while you sit around and discuss nonsense? Hm?" Crossing her arms across her chest, she watched as he looked back at her.
"Try not to get yourself killed," was his sarcastic retort, before he rolled his eyes and immersed himself in the crowd of men once again. Evvy watched him, throwing icy stares at his back. When he was no longer within view, she huffed before turning around, stalking away.
" 'Try not to get yourself killed' indeed," she murmured mockingly to herself, doing her best not to get tangled in the mess of men. "He's the one who'll get me killed. Just watch. . ." With that, she started to walk towards the bow of the ship, not really looking where she was going. She brushed shoulders with a few men, but they ignored her, and Evvy did the same. No apologies were offered on either side, and neither side didn't really wanted one.
When reaching the railing of the ship, she leaned on her tiptoes and glanced over the edge. Water crashed against the side, sending salt into her eyes. Blinking, Evvy scowled. She never really liked water; it could wear down rock, make it into barely anything but a grain of sand. And rock was never fully pleased with being just sand.
Suddenly, a voice sounded from behind her. "Pretty isn't it?. . . The Western Deep, I mean."
Evvy quickly spun around, her eyes snapping into alertness. Glancing at the person in front of her, her muscles relaxed immensely. Swallowing, she managed a slight smile, despite her foul mood. "Hey, Pasco," she greeted mildly, hoping her voice sounded more friendly than how she felt.
Pasco smiled back at her, his black hair falling messily into his eyes. His stuck his hands casually in his pockets, before walking up to her and placing his elbows on the railing. He looked out into the horizon for few brief seconds, his eyes glittering in the sun. Then, as if speaking to himself, he mumbled, "It's times like this that I really miss Emelan. I, I miss. . . home."
Looking up in slight surprise, Evvy contemplated his light tone. She had never really thought about missing home. Maybe it was because she never really missed home, or wanted to. The only home she knew, before Pahan Briar had found her, was a dingy cave, with a hoard of cats. There was no family, no support, only her cats to talk too. But, Pasco. . . Pasco had a family, a home, people who loved him. Her own mother sold her, she hadn't loved her, probably hadn't even cared. She had been just another mouth to feed, another burden to carry. Evvy glanced down at her now folded hands, feeling hot tears burn in her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying not to let them escape her eyes.
Boys did not need to see you cry. It only made you look silly.
Suddenly, a light hand landed hesitantly on her shoulder. Evvy didn't look up, she didn't want Pasco to see the tears in her eyes. However, she was quite sure that he had already caught a glimpse. Sniffling loudly, she shook her head, trying to shrug his hand off.
Pasco didn't let that happen. He clamped a bit harder, in a comforting sort of way, before chuckling lightly. "Hey there. We gotta have tough love, eh?"
Hearing him, Evvy shot her head up in, hoping that her eyes weren't red and puffy. Blinking at him in surprise, she contemplated his words, before pulling a strand of hair out of her face. Nodding her head slowly, she said, "Yeah. . . tough love."
It perhaps dawned on Pasco what he had just said, because the grip on her shoulder slackened. He looked at her, a slight expression of shock across his face before he laughed nervously. "That's what Sandry says to me alot, I mean," he paused before straightening his back, " 'Pasco, I'm only doing this for your own benefit. Tough love; that's what it's called. So, don't be lazy. Come on, straighten up now.' " During this whole time, he scrunched his eyebrows up, trying to look mad and professional. Instead, both Evvy and Pasco exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.
Still chuckling, Evvy smiled up at the laughing Pasco. His mouth was in a wide grin, and his eyes were sparkling beneath his wave of black hair. He reminded Evvy of what her Pahan might have been like when he was younger, laid back and handsome, when this whole mission wasn't weighing on his back. There was always a look of contemplation on his face now, although every once in awhile, Evvy saw him smile and lighten up with Sandry. And, ever since entering Madab, he seemed so tired. . .
Once their laughter had subsided to a few chuckles, they stared at each other, smiles gracing across their faces. Biting her lip, Evvy looked out towards the sea, watching as the water crashed against the sides of the boat. Where were they going again? Sarai Island, was it? Shaking her head, Evvy thought hard. She didn't know anything about this mission, what it was about, what they she was even doing here.
"Sandry hasn't told me anything, either."
Evvy looked up at Pasco before raising an eyebrow. He licked his lips and then shrugged. "So, why are we here, again?" Evvy asked, squarely her shoulders unintentionally, as if she was asking her Pahan a question, only to wait for some kind of stiff reply.
Only, Pasco laughed. "Who knows," he answered, before sticking his hands into his pockets. "I think I was taken here, more or less for the fact that Sandry was afraid I'd terrorize her Uncle in Emelan if she didn't take me along." Glancing down at her, he gave her a lop-sided grin. "Whatever the reason, we'll stick together, huh Ev'?"
Evvy smiled crookedly back at him, before shaking her head. "Sure thing. . . Pasco." Her smile became broader before she reached over, taking hold of his hand. Blinking away the salty air, she squeezed his hand. "Friends 'till the end?"
Giving her hand a squeeze back, Pasco smiled down at her, his eyes glittering.
And Evvy didn't need another answer to her question.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Briar didn't know that he could ever get lost in a ship. He now was sure that it was quite possible.
Down below the huge ship, was a huge maze of corridors and doors. Every time they rounded a corner, there was another line of doors and hallways that awaited them. Most of the rooms, from he saw, were storage centers, although an occasional one held a few bunker beds and closets. Some were even empty. But, one thing was for sure, there were more ways to get lost in this one ship than in all of Emelan.
After what felt like forever, Dasnie and Jadof rounded then into a small corridor, that ended in a dead end. Tris and Daja were ahead of him, and Sandry was by his side, taking in all of the twists and turns with fascination. Briar chuckled at her. Someday, her curiosity was going to get the better of her, and he hoped that he would be there to witness it.
Sandry noticed his stare and looked up at him. Biting her lip, she whispered, "Do you think Pasco will be okay?"
Briar smiled crookedly. "He'll be fine. . . just as long as he keeps his hormonal hands off my student."
Sandry simply snorted, rolling her eyes. Briar chuckled.
At the end of the corridor, there was a large mirror, but no doors were visible. As they walked to the end of it, Briar looked around in confusion. He wondered what kind of Madabian mystery this was. Biting his lip, he glanced up at Dasnie and Jadof. They didn't even look faded about this. Sighing, Briar shrugged.
They came to the mirror, standing in silence. Daja looked back at Briar, confusion evident in her face. Briar simply raised his eyebrows, agreeing with the confusion. Swallowing, Daja turned around, facing the mirror.
Then, suddenly, Dasnie drew her sword from her hilt. She quickly raised it above her head and struck the mirror. Surprised, Briar heard Sandry gasp in surprise, and he braced himself for the sudden shattering of glass. However, nothing fragmented, and no glass flew anywhere. Instead, the glass ripped down the center before becoming fuzzy and swirling. The entire back wall started to become translucent, swirling a misty white. And then, after a few confusing seconds, it vanished, displaying another corridor, this one with only one door.
Briar stared open mouth for a few seconds while Dasnie put her sword back. Looking over her shoulder, she called to them, "Come. . . you are to see the Caption of the ship." With that, she walked briskly towards the door at the end of the corridor.
Blinking in a haze, Briar snapped out of his astonishment. Shaking his head in disbelief, he murmured, "Disappearing ships, disappearing prisons, disappearing mirrors. What's next? Disappearing Food?" His stomach rolled with the mention of food, and he frowned down at it.
When they reached the door, Dasnie took hold of the handle and opened it. The scene behind the doorway displayed a large room with rich furnishings. A small fireplace was off to the right, crackling softly. A desk stood in the middle of it, while a woman sat behind it, staring at them measurably.
She blinked softly, before greeting, "Princess Dasniel, Jadof ta Untea, Guests of the Honored Queen. . . please, come in." Her voice was soft but clear. As they came closer into the room, gingerly at first, she stood.
Briar looked around the room in curiosity, scanning the bookshelves that laid cluttered on the shelves. Books upon books, many written by the ancients, lay messily, while flasks of wine and liquor sat on top of them. The whole room was dimly lighten, making it hard to read some of the titles, but Briar could make out some of them. Squinting, he saw a collection of them by the same author, all looking brand new compared to the others.
They read: Donovan la Feram
The name struck him. He had heard it before, perhaps? Chewing the inside of his cheek in concentration, Briar tried to dwell on the name, but got very little of a chance. The woman quickly interrupted.
"Please, sit down. We have important information to discuss." She motioned them all to plush looking chairs that surrounded her desk. Briar glanced at her, before hesitantly sitting down. Glancing up at Sandry, he watched as she eyed the chair cautiously. Then, biting her lip, she glided into it, her eyebrows still knitted in some kind of silent concentration. She smoothed her dress out before glancing back at Briar. Offering a weak smile, Briar found himself grinning back before mentally kicking himself.
Why did he always smile back? And another thing. . . why did she always have to catch him while he did so. Sitting lower in his chair, Briar hoped that Sandry couldn't see a slight blush that had entered his face.
The woman glanced at everyone through one eye; the other was covered with a large, dark patch. Her hair was curt to her earlobes, and it gleamed a sandy blonde in the firelight. A slight smile graced her face, but the air around her was serious and professional. Clearing her throat, she glanced from one person to another. "I am quite sure that Duke Eraged explained in general terms why you are on Madab. Therefore, I will not make this long." Folding her hands, she placed them on the table and leaned closer to them. "The honored queen wishes you to know that she will hold a meeting once you arrive at the Eliaso qu Vernon. She will go into detail, but you are to know that she wishes to know anything that you have observed about Madab. Anything that has happened to you, anything that seems. . . abnormal."
Briar raised an eyebrow at this. Abnormal? Everything about Madab was abnormal.
The woman continued, "Also, if you have any questions, you have only but to ask. I will answer whatever I can. Just ask for Lanell te Feram."
Suddenly, Tris let out a loud gasp, and when Briar turned to her in surprise, her hand covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide underneath her glasses, and her eyebrows were raised. "Wha. . . What did you say your name was?" She stuttered, sounding oddly uncharacteristic.
The woman stared at her strangely, before saying, slower this time, "Lanell te Feram."
Tris eyebrows raised higher, but she removed her hand. Staring intently at Lanell, she blinked. "Do you happen to know, by any chance, someone by the name of. . ."
Suddenly the door was flung open, and Briar jumped up from his chair, his hand close to Sandry, ready to make a run for it. Glancing wildly at the door, Briar observed a young man, about his own age, standing there with a large grin on his face. His sandy blonde hair was the same as the Caption's, but his eyes were a dark green, glittering with excitement. When he saw that there was other people in the room, he blinked.
"Sorry 'bout that, everyone," He apologized, his voice animated. "Got to get use to those magic doors, kinda weird if ya know what I mean." He laughed lightly, looked around the room, glancing at everyone, who stared at him blankly. Then, suddenly, when he reached Tris, he blinked in surprise. His smile somewhat decreased before exclaiming, "Tris?!"
Briar reeled back his head in shock before glancing over at Tris. Her mouth was open from shock, and it looked like she was trying to form some coherent sentence. Scrunching his eyebrows together, Briar exchanged a glance with Sandry, who looked equally confused.
After a few moments of stunned silence, Caption Lanell spoke, "Everyone, this is my cousin Donovan la Feram, Co-Caption of this ship."
Tris had no answer, but simply stood stock still, her jaw opened wide. Briar stared intently at the young man and then at Tris, trying to understand the connection between Tris' astonishment and the person standing in front of him. He was still holding onto Sandry's wrist protectively and he almost let go, but then didn't. Sandry didn't give any signals for him to move away. Briar glanced at her; her lips pursed in concentration, her eyes glittering suspiciously. Shaking his head, he smiled crookedly. Even in these moments she spelled royalty in every twinge of her brow.
Averting his eyes back to the young man, Briar looked him over. Although he was about two inches shorter than Briar, he was still quite tall for a man his age. He had a dark green shirt on, which looked like it was finely stitched, although Briar couldn't really tell. He always allowed Sandry have fun with the sewing part of life.
Scrunching his eyebrows quizzically, Briar ran the name though his brain. Donovan la Feram. . . la Feram. . . Donovan. Running his tongue over his teeth, Briar concentrated. He had heard the name recently, very recently. Donovan. . .
Something clicked in his brain instantly, but he was beaten by Sandry.
"Donovan la Feram!" She exclaimed, a light appearing on her face. Blinking, Sandry gave him a once-over before displaying an approving glance over to Tris, who didn't even look at Sandry, but kept her eyes fixated on the young man in front of her, mouth still agape. Smiling coyly, Sandry gave a slight bow of her head, before letting go of Briar's hand. She extended her hand and said in a knavish sort of way, "We've heard bits and pieces of you. . . good things of course."
Donovan seemed to blink out of his daze, looking startled, before furnishing a sheepish half smile. He chuckled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck before taking Sandry's hand and kissing it lightly. Eying Tris from the corner of his vision, Donovan kept smiling, but in a skeptical kind of way. "I'm almost afraid to ask what kind of 'bits and pieces' you've heard," He replied to Sandry, before chuckling lightly, "Me and Tris have had quite a few adventures together, some of which got a little, um. . . muddy." It was here that he raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin still on his face.
Tris suddenly shut her mouth, her eyes becoming stormy once again. She pursed her lips before crossing her arms across her chest. Giving Donovan nothing more than a waspish glare, Tris' voice was loud and annoyed, "Do not even go into that again Donovan la Feram! You know very well that I had nothing to do with that thunderstorm on Mt. Fateron, and even if I did. . ."
She was interrupted by Donovan suddenly bursting out into laughter. Shaking his head, a few pieces of sandy blond hair fell in front of his eyes. Walking up to Tris, who was eying him skeptically, he put his hands on her shoulders before kissing her lightly on the forehead.
Hitting him in the chest, Tris objected. "Good grief, not now, Donovan. . . there's people here." She nodded over to where Briar, Sandry, and Daja was standing; Sandry with a mysterious smile across her lips, Daja with raised eyebrows, and Briar with a confused and cynical expression glittering in his eyes.
Donovan's smile became broader. "It's good to see you again, Tris." He made an attempt to kiss her again, but instead, he got another bruising hit from Tris. Chuckling, Donovan let go of her before folding his arms across his chest. "Now. . . let's get down to business. What exactly are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Briar suddenly interjected quite abruptly and coldly, a bit surprised at his tone of voice. He had stood in astonished silence for awhile, feeling awkward and quite out of place, but at the same time, feeling suddenly protective of Tris, as if he was an older brother. It wasn't that he didn't exactly like this Donovan, whoever exactly he was. It was just that it was foreign and strange to him, seeing one of the circle in a relationship that did involve Daja, Sandry, or himself. Yes, Sandry had married, he was still trying to keep this concrete in his mind, but it would not stay. However, not only did he not know about this, he never even saw Sandry once during her brief marriage. The simple thought of seeing Sandry kiss Count whatever blah, blah, blah, made Briar want to gag.
So, was he jealous? Briar shook his head. Perhaps the greater question was why he kept asking himself that same question over and over again.
Donovan looked up at Briar in surprise, before offering him a small smile. "You must be Briar Moss. I've heard 'bits and pieces' about you also. . ." He said before strolling over to one of the many bookshelves. Bending over to examine the contents of one of the liquor bottles, he picked up a thick glass container before walking back to Briar. Inside, there was a dark red liquid sloshing around. "Want some Janeel Sherry? Straight from Ceteh. . . the best in the world." He offered Briar another good-natured smile.
Briar examined Donovan's face carefully, looking for any devious plans residing there. He felt someone elbow him in the arm and, looking down, he saw Sandry frowning disapprovingly at him. Rolling his eyes, Briar turned back to Donovan. "Sure," he replied before flopping himself into an arm chair, "fill her to the top."
"Thatta man," Donovan replied, grabbing a small glass off Caption Lanell desk. He tipped an imaginary hat to Lanell, who in turn simply shook her head. He filled the small glass up before giving it Briar, who took it before polishing it off with ease.
Briar felt the drink as it burned down his throat, and was surprised how it suddenly made him feel warm all over his entire body. He also didn't notice the swaying of the huge boat quite as much either.
Glancing up, Briar saw Donovan raise a pleasantly surprised smile. "Nice work. Can't say I haven't done better myself." With that, he took a larger glass off the desk, poured himself a cup and drowned it quickly.
Briar smiled crookedly. He could recognize a challenge from a mile away
"You guys are perfect wimps," someone bit in tartly from the other side of the room. Walking up to the table, Tris grabbed two large cups before filling both to the rim. Smiling daringly, she drowned them both. At the same time.
Donovan emitted a low whistle at this, and Briar shook his head approvingly.
"Oh, come on!" Someone else interjected. Craning his head around, Briar stared at Daja, who was leaning against a bookshelf. Lifting herself up, she walked over to the desk, grabbed the bottle of sherry, put the bottle to her lips before swallowed it straight from the bottle. She drowned about three cupfuls before she stopped, wiped her lips, and lifted an eyebrow.
The whole group looked at each other before they dashed off to grab their own bottle of tonic.
Briar grabbed the first bottle he saw, a rather large bottle with a thick yellow liquid inside. Grabbing it, he unscrewed the top of the glass stopper before taking a large swig, forgetting the frivolity of drinking from a glass. Instantly, he regretted it. The liquid tasted something like turpentine and peppermint mixed together. It burned when it went down, but this time not because it was hot, but because it was intensely cold.
Briar averted his eyes to Tris. She was guzzling a large bottle of brown liquid. Catching his eye, Tris lifted a challenging eyebrow, her eyes glittering in silent competition. Briar gulped. Eyeing his bottle, he took another large swig. He would not be shown up by Tris.
Nobody was going to beat him at his element.
When he took another large gulp of this liquid, he looked around the room curiously. Everything looked so comfortable and fuzzy, the lights blurry, as if he was looking inside of a water stained window. There was Dasnie, who eyed all of them blankly, and Jadof, who looked as if he might join in any second, if he knew what was going on. And Sandry was on the other side of the room, an amused look on her face, arms crossed, but laughing.
Briar smiled crookedly. She was so pretty when she laughed. So pretty, so pretty, so pretty. . .
"Hey guys!" Donovan suddenly said, his voice slurred but still coherent. "Two men walk into a bar," blinking, he held a flask of liquor in one hand, while he stumbled to find his footing, "And one guy says to the other, 'I'm gonna be a puppeteer,' and the other guy says, 'How are you gonna do that?' and the other one replies, 'Oh, I'm gonna pull some strings'! Get it? Pull Strings?"
It wasn't a very funny joke, and in the back of Briar's head he knew that he shouldn't laugh at it. But, right then, it seemed funny, and he laughed. Briar laughed so hard, he never thought he was going to stop, and soon, after taking another swig from the bottle, the yellow liquid seemed to fade into the fuzzy candle lighting, and Sandry laughing seemed to sing to him, so that the last thing that Briar knew was the glittering darkness of sleep.
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Briar didn't know what was worst: The lighting that suddenly
pervaded his foggy vision or the feeling that his intestines were going
to make a slow, painful exit through his esophagus.
Groaning, Briar turned over on his side, a gurgling in his stomach objecting to his action. This way he was farther away from the light, but in a more uncomfortable position for his stomach. Feeling like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, Briar was about to try another position, but then he felt the most wonderful thing he had ever felt. Ever.
A cool hand was placed on his forehead, dry and comforting at the same time. He felt someone sit on the edge of the bed, making rustling noises of material. A body was pressed against his abdomen, and it was a welcoming presence. But the hand was the best thing so far, for his head felt like someone had taken an ax to it and chopped it into millions of tiny splinters.
Making a gurgling noise deep in his throat, Briar managed to pop one eye open. His vision was blurred at first, and his eye burned like hell, but after a moment's pain, he was able to focus. He was in, what looked like, a cabin of the ship. He was laying on a bed that was against a back wall, and a small table and lamp was sitting next to his bed. The lamp had been lit and there was a continuous string of fire coming from it. Also, sitting next to the lamp was a small, glass bowl, which had piece of material floating in it.
The cool hand suddenly left his forehead and then reached over to the bowl. Briar tried to object, but found his mouth was as dry as cotton, and all that came out was a pathetic growl.
The person sitting on the bed chuckled lightly. "You're up. . . and here I thought I had lost you to the bottle."
Sandry.
Briar shook his head. It figures. Females always find you when you're at your worst.
Trying to act grumpy, Briar popped his other eye open, felt it steam, before looking at Sandry. Even though she seemed a bit blurry, she was most definitely Sandry; tight arrays of braids, a few strands that had fallen out and were a nuisance in her eyes, her smug smile and her glittering blue eyes. Briar found himself smiling, even though he felt as if all the gross mixture of turpentine and peppermint had suddenly decided to make a speedy exit.
Sandry reached over, dipped the material in the water, wrung it out, before looking down at Briar, her eyes smiling. Briar found himself smiling broader before mentally cursing at himself. If he didn't look stupid already, suspended in a bed, while Sandry was taking care of her. It should be the other way around. He was being stupid. . .
However, when she smiled down at him, the pain in his head seemed to fade, and all he could was smile more expansively.
Briar shook his head. He was a damn fool.
"You're a damn fool, you know that Briar?" Sandry asked, her voice teasing, before she added, "Damn fool, drinking on an empty stomach. At least Tris and Daja had something in their stomachs; they ate something last night." Putting the washcloth in her hand, she placed it on Briar's forehead. Instantly, a cooling sensation went throughout his entire body, easing the terrible headache and the churning in his stomach. Sighing, Briar looked up at Sandry. She was smiling smugly at him.
"Do you like my new washcloth?" She asked, eying the piece of material proudly. "Lark and I stitched it together. . . it supposed to have the healing properties to heal any headache or stomach problem." Standing up, Sandry brushed the wrinkles off her dress before smiling broadly.
Briar smiled crookedly at her before pushing himself higher in the bed, so that he was in a sitting position. Leaning against the backboard of the bed, he held the cloth to his head with one head before shrugging his shoulders. "Pretty nice, pretty nice," he drawled, before looking at Sandry and winking, "Not as good as your hand though."
Sandry's shoulders slumped visibly, her eyes rolled, and she put her hands on her hips. Giving him a mock-glare, she scolded him, "You're incorrigible, Briar Moss!"
"Handsome, too," Briar added, watching as her eyes widened before she threw her hands up in the air.
Frowning at him, she shook her head. "You'd better be careful what you say in front of the queen. If she's anything like Dasniel, you're going to have to go easy on the humor."
Briar snorted. "Me? I'm thinking Jadof is going to have more trouble with that than me."
Smiling, Sandry nodded in agreement. "Him and Donovan. You should have heard some of the jokes he told in his sleep when he had fallen dead drunk."
Briar's smile faded a bit with the mention of Donovan. Although he liked the guy enough now-- he could really drown those drinks --but now he was more uneasy with the thought of Donovan and Tris. If it had just been Donovan, Briar would think that he would have a new best friend, but the fact that Tris was attached to him, or Donovan was attached to Tris, was strange and awkward. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked at Sandry. He could see she was thinking the same thing. Her eyes looked pensive in thought, and at the same time, oddly sad again. She blinked slowly, almost melancholy, before she looked at Briar.
"Strange, ain't it? Tris in love?" He asked quietly, strangely paranoid that someone was listening outside the door.
"Mmm," was all Sandry answered before they relapsed into silent thought.
Briar brushed his eyes around his surroundings, seeing that the room was empty except for his bed and night stand. He saw no sign of luggage, and no sign of any decoration. Instead, blank wooden walls stared back at him, devoid of anything at all. Looking back at Sandry, Briar studied her silently. Her eyes were staring blankly ahead, her lips in a frown, as if she was playing out a scene from the past in her mind. She was rubbing a hand through her seemingly flat stomach, unaware that it looked strange to the illusioned onlooker. And her face, so sad and her face a bit gray.
Suddenly, Sandry let out a little yelp, her eyes popping open in surprise.
Jumping out of bed, Briar raced to her side. The washcloth fell off his forehead in the process, and immediately the nausea and headache returned. He ignored it, more concerned for Sandry than for the sudden rush of pain. Eying her in concern, Briar put an arm on her shoulder. "Sandry, what's wrong?"
"Your washcloth fell off."
"I'll live, but are you okay?" Briar said hastily, studying Sandry's face.
Sandry smiled warmly before looking up at Briar. Then, slowly, she giggled. "I'm fine, I'm fine Briar," She rubbed her stomach again, "The baby's just having its play time all of a sudden."
Briar raised an eyebrow. He was the least likely person to know things about pregnancy. Looking blankly at Sandry's stomach, Briar regarded her curiously. "What?"
Glancing up at him, Sandy laughed. "The baby's kicking, Briar," She stated point blankly, before taking his hand and putting it against her stomach, which didn't in the least feel seven months pregnant. "Here, you feel."
Briar almost withdrew when Sandry put his hand to her stomach, but then didn't. Immediately, when his hand touched her stomach something warm floated from his fingertips to his inner being. It reminded him of when he took the drink of Janeel Sherry and it burned on the way down, but this time it burned in a pleasant sort of way, but it a dramatic sort of way too, as if the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. He could feel the baby underneath the spelled clothes, nudging against Briar's hand.
And then it was when Briar heard it. For the first time. It was indistinct at first, as if someone had barely whispered it into his ear, but then it was much more distinct.
It was simply: Briar. . .
He pulled back from Sandry's stomach in a matter of seconds, eyes open and wide. Glancing quickly at Sandry, he tried to find the words within himself, but he quickly shut his mouth. The voice that he had heard was not Sandry's. It was not Tris', it was not Daja's. It was not anyone who could speak to him. It was something like a phantom, but it was like a phantom had donned flesh and spoken to him instead.
Could it be. . . ? Briar glanced at Sandry's stomach before shaking his head.
When Sandry saw him face, her smile vanished, turning quickly into a frown. Eying him, she asked hastily, "Briar, what happened? Are you okay?"
Briar opened his mouth to speak again, but nothing came out. He glanced at her stomach once again before feeling a shiver run through his spine.
"Briar, for gods sake, what's wrong?!"
Suddenly, before he could answer, the door of the room swung open. Both Briar and Sandry jumped before looking at the door, startled.
Standing in the doorway, Dasnie looked at the two of them, her face completely void of anything distinguishable but surprise. Blinking at them, she looked around the room. Regarding them strangely, Dasnie pursed her lips. "Is there something wrong? You look threatened."
Straightening her back, Sandry tried to smile pleasantly at Dasnie before saying kindly. "Nothing is wrong, Princess Dasniel, we're quite all right." Briar saw Sandry give him a sideways glance, but he choose to ignore it.
"Everything's just peachy," Briar added, biting in some of it, trying to expose the underlying irony in his statement.
Yes, Sandry was pregnant, some strange thing was calling to him, Tris was in love, and he had a massive hangover. Just lovely.
Dasnie eyed Briar before blinking. "I must say that I am not familiar with some of your Southern words, but I suppose I will have to learn to adjust." She came a step father in the room before announcing, "I have come to tell you that we shall be approaching the harbor for Sarai Island in a matter of minutes. You should probably get arranged for the meeting with the queen." With that, she bowed before exiting the room, her wild white hair following her.
Briar stood in awkward silence with Sandry for a few seconds, before he shrugged. "I guess we better go, huh?"
Sandry looked up at him, looked up into his eyes, sadness still there, seeming even more sad than ever before. She put an hand on his arm, before offering a smile that seemed mixed with a thousand emotions in one.
Briar felt his stomach do a double-flip. And this time, it wasn't the turpentine and peppermint.
They stood like that for what felt like forever, before Briar realized what he was doing.
What exactly was he doing anyway? What was he thinking? Briar shook his head sternly, feeling very gruff with himself all of a sudden. What he was thinking in his mind, he shouldn't think. He shouldn't think things like how nice the candlelight glowed on Sandry's face, and how pleasant it felt like to be around her, and how the baby seemed to. . .
Briar shook his head more ferociously. The sea was taking a toll on his sanity. He needed fresh air. Pursing his lips, he turned to Sandry before saying stiffly, "Go out on deck; I'll meet you out there in a few moments."
Sandry stared at him almost coldly all of a sudden, as if stricken by his tone of voice. Holding up her head, she offered him a coy smile before nodding. Then, almost silently, she exited the room before merely saying, "I'll see you out there Briar." She closed the door.
Watching the door shut, Briar cursed out loud at himself. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he mumbled incoherently, "Stupid. . . stupid. . . what. . .thinking. . .crazy!" Marching over to the night stand, Briar continued his mumbling before picking up the dish of water and dumping it on top of the candle. He watched as it extinguished before stomping over to his door in the dark, opened it forcefully, before looking back at his dark room. He could almost hear the voice again in his ear, mysterious, ethereal, but human.
Slumping his shoulders, Briar sighed before remarking, "Briar, you're
a damn fool."
---------------------------------
Making his way outside his quarters and onto the deck, Briar could finally taste the fresh salt air. Closing his eyes, he practically gulped down the air, feeling it fill his lungs. Sighing, Briar looked around before he spotted Daja standing with Sandry, Tris, Jadof, and Dasnie on the side of the boat. Looking farther down the dock, he spotted Pasco and Evvy talking to themselves. Suddenly feeling paternal, Briar was about to give a lecture, before he heard Daja yell over to him.
"Well, if it isn't the loser coming now!" With that, she leaned back and smiled smugly at him.
Briar eyed her dangerously. "What are you talkin' about?" He yelled back at her.
Smile still smug and amused, Daja answered, "Looks like you just couldn't handle the poison, eh Briar? Was asleep like a baby before I polished off my second bottle of Eleven-and-seven."
Walking over to the group, Briar gave her a confused look. "I don't know what you're talking about. . . must be another one of your drunken dreams, Daja. I've told you to keep it easy on the bottle, now. . ." He put a hand on her shoulder before giving a look of mock-concern, his eyes glittering with mischief.
Daja rolled her eyes before slapping his hand away. "You're too much," She snapped tartly at him, before turning away to look out towards the Western deep. When she did, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth became slightly agape and she narrowed her eyes before blinking.
Briar, seeing her reaction, scrunched his eyebrows up before following her gaze. Looking out towards the ocean, Briar stopped suddenly. Straight in front of them was a huge island, green and lush as any land he had ever seen. There was vegetation and gnarled trees so tall it made Briar's head spin. But that was not what astonished him. In what looked like the middle of the huge island was a huge building, rising up what looked like many thousand feet, with what looked like the biggest glass ceiling Briar had ever seen. Or the only glass ceiling that he had ever seen.
It was the Eliaso qu Vernon.
"You've gotta be shittin' me," Briar mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear. But this time no one objected his cursing. They all just stood in silent agreement.
They stood like that for what seemed like forever, but was probably less than a minute.
Suddenly, out of the silence, Jadof spoke, "Anyone wanna hear a joke?"
No one answered. Everyone gaped.
"There were three men on a journey: A trader, a merchant, and a dedicate. . ."
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AAHHHH!!! WHERE THE HELL HAVE I BEEN? hehe, sorry about all
this folks. I suck. Big time. I'm just a lazy slob for
not writing this, and I apologize. I did have writer's block for
this chapter, and all the other chapters seem to be coming into place except
this one. And the problem with fanfiction is well, you can't really
mix up chapters. . . so this chapter took forever to write, and I'm not
really even that happy with it either. Oh well, better chapters on
the horizon folks. And they will come much sooner than this one,
I promise. Thanks to everyone who has stayed loyal to this story.
It means millions to me.
Well, see ya guys on the flip side. . . Remember, "be a responsible reader and review!"