1:06 AM and I just feel fired to write/update! Man, I hate it how inspiration hits when I should be sleeping XD. It's a short chapter though, apologies.
Once again, thanks to FoxyJosh and Jarkes for the reviews (yes, I did write that poem/prophecy myself), you guys are the best!
So, is Carakl good or evil? Or peraps something in between? Let's find out…
-O-O-O-
-O-O-O-
It happened one glorious morning. The sun was high and the sailing was good. "We'll get there around this time tomorrow," Dorian had told them. Buso had created some sort of pancake-like dish that everyone agreed was delicious, and so took out onto the deck for a picnic.
"Where's the featherhead?" questioned Flint, "He's been gone since morning…"
It was true, Gully liked to fly off and stretch his wings from time to time, but he always made it back for lunch.
The gator's question was answered by a loud, "Arckk!" as the parrot dipped out of the sky. But something was wrong…
"Hey, why's he flying crooked like that?" Torq noted.
The Chatot was flapping frantically and pathetically, small tufts of feathers flying like dandruff about him. And as he passed over the group below, a drop of heavy liquid hit the back of Skipper's paw. With a muffled crashing sound, the bird dropped into the crow's nest.
The sea weasel lifted his paw to his face, examining the dot of red. "Blood."
"Gull, you alright?" the water maid called. There was no reply. "Something's wrong," she said, and made a dash for the mast.
But Skip was already halfway up. One moment he disappeared into the basket, the next he was out and back on deck with a rumpled bundle in his arms.
His beak and eyes were half open. Most of his feathers were turned the wrong way and a deep gash tore open his left shoulder. But most troubling of all: the parrot wasn't talking.
"Water, get him some water."
Tottle scrambled to the kitchens and came up with a bowl. Flint took it and carefully tipped the fluids into the Chatot's mouth. Slowly, he regained consciousness. "Rrr… smell pancakes…arckk…"
The crew sighed with relief; he would live.
"Can you tell us what happened?" the Buizel asked.
Gully ruffled his feathers nervously. "Was flying, good weather today, aye. Strange ship faraway, so I go and see wotsit… but then, ackkk!" He hissed as Buso applied a thick paste to his wound.
"It's to prevent infection," Torq said as the parrot attempted to gnaw the cook's paw off.
"Kraa! Hurts more than big bird's talons!"
Skipper narrowed his eyes. "Big bird? What kind of bird?"
"Biiiiig bird!" Gully replied, "Sharp claws scratch me hard, arrck! Got away just in time… big bird saying, "Watch fer the Northern Lights! Watch fer the Northern Lights!"
They exchanged uneasy looks. Then, to break the tension, Flint flashed his friend an optimistic grin. "Well, at least you got away, ye birdbrain! You'll be back in the air in no time!"
The Chatot gingerly stretched his wing, which was bandaged tightly. "Kraaa! Big bird be up there too!" With that, he hopped to the mast and started to make his way up using his beak and talons. "Don't need yer help!" he snapped when help was offered. When he finally made it he was out in an instant, his snores carrying down to the silent deck below.
"Hmm, what do you make of this?" Skipper asked his crew.
Flint shrugged. "If some rogue bird is flying around we'll pin it if it bothers us, or we can just ignore it and hope to sail out of its territory soon."
"But there are no other islands around here for it to make its roost," Dorian interjected, "unless it came from Lainaria, which I highly doubt…"
"And what about those 'Northern Lights'?" added Torq.
The group pondered that thought for a moment.
Tottle scratched his head as he wondered out loud, "I thought those were the lights that came out at night in the really cold places?"
Skipper nodded. "But that doesn't make any sense… we're a ways away from the North lands."
They fell silent again. At long last, the sea weasel gave a weary sigh and shook his head. "Can't make heads or tails out of this mess… We best keep sailing straight for Lainaria. I want a lookout on deck at all times."
They nodded, not knowing what else to do in this situation.
The sea Captain smiled grimly at them. "Well at least Gull'll be alright. Carry on then."
-O-O-
And so they did. Dorian had a ship to sail, and Skipper had retired to his cabin to study the map. Buso was preparing their next meal, or sleeping, or just hanging about in his kitchen as usual. Tot, Flint and Torq were playing a game similar to jacks. Their parrot friend would be okay, so there was no reason to panic. Except for one creature.
Carakl stood against the rail, as she did every day, and closed her eyes. Her sensors stiffened and seemed to vibrate as her surroundings slowly ebbed away. She was not in this world now… everything around her was depicted in the form of aura. The spirited figures around her emitted an especially bright glow, but she ignored that. She set her sight out to sea… shining expanses of ocean flying by… a flock of Wingull, a pod of Lanturn… there, a surge of power! The Lucario stifled a gasp as she passed over the aura of a frighteningly large ship, a monster at least quadruple the size of the Seatunder, double rows of gun ports along its hull, triple masts with numerous sails stretched tightly against the wind. Its black flag, the typical sign of pirates, was marked with a bleach white, fanged skull. The deck was alive with a motley crew of creatures doing one thing or another, a rugged Pidgeot roosted on the tallest mast… Carakl disregarded them as well. There was only one she was searching for right now…
He was standing on the bowsprit, horribly close to the tip. The creature was a tall and sinewy Floatzel. He wore nothing save a black kilt, held by a thick belt with a wicked scimitar thrust through. His arms were crossed over his chest and his head was slightly raised, eyes closed and facing into the wind. He would have been a handsome beast, if it weren't for the fearsome scars that covered his entire body: his face, his arms, his torso… They crisscrossed this way and that, so that he looked like some sort of patchwork monster. The Lucario let her inner eye stop in front of him.
The weasel let out a low chuckle, then spoke in a deep, smooth voice, "Carakl, so you survived…"
"Yes, I have," her mind answered.
A cruel smile creased the Floatzel's face. "What's this, a hint of malice I sense?"
"…"
His eyes flashed open, bright, fierce pools of mahogany. They told the story of a beast who know no fear, and felt no sympathy. "Carakl, I know where you are. A lovely little boat called Seatunder, am I correct?"
She growled, "Yes, they were the ones who saved me after you…!"
"Never mind," he cut in, "I have no time for your squabbling. However, I am glad that you are alive. I think… you know what I want you to do."
"…" Even though she was communicating only through aura, the Lucario felt as though he was staring right at her, right through her.
"Carakl," his tone betrayed no sign of impatience, but was as keen as a honed blade and just as dangerous, "They will die, every beast aboard that craft. And if you do not obey me, you shall join them."
"…"
"Hm, you remain silent. But do you understand what I am asking of you?"
"…"
"Answer me!"
"I understand, Captain."
He chuckled again; the cold smile of his never left his face once.
-O-O-O-
-O-O-O-
Aaaaand… the tables turn! Dash Lainaria for a moment, there are bigger things on the horizon. But for now, enjoy this last moment of peace, eh? ; D
See you next chapter!
-Canyx