The Gloomcatcher

09: Eril Brightdoom

    O R E P H N I L

    The fluids in his gut were swaying ominously with the motion just as the ocean beyond the vessel did. Waves whacked her from the sides, and the wind howled as the Palinurus thrust forward on the water. His chamber was in the belowdecks, puny with just enough freedom for him to lay down on the squeaking bed, and with two strides, he would find himself outside. There was a porthole, but whenever he peeped out, he saw gigantic, monstrous waves reaching towards him, and frightened, he would hurl back from it, feeling sick all over again.

    The captain, sir Flinnien Foreswift, had said that they couldn't provide them with a chamber big enough to accommodate the lovers, so for the voyage, they would have to adjust in two separate ones. The prince was exceptionally glad about it. He couldn't imagine sleeping on the same bed as Neriath, not because something nefarious would incite between them but because he worried for his life. He would snore, and Nosdor knew she might kill him for it.

    At dawn, he had awoken to urgent knocks on his cabin door and was greeted by a man, named Covier Synth.

    "The captain's akin and first mate," he said.

    The first mate did not have glossy black hair like Captain Flinn, nor did he have any beard or mustache, and he was not tall, but he had greying hair with receding hairline from his forehead and creases under his eyes. He stood on short legs—in contrast to the long legs of the captain—surprisingly unwavering and unmoving while Orephnil thought he had no sense of a poised stance and lolled side by side stupidly before him like a drunk pirate on loose bones. If Covier Synth was the opposite of the Captain in physicality, he was undeniably similar to him in personality, so much alike that the physical dissimilarities didn't seem like a valid reason to doubt their kinship.

    "How may I help you?" Orephnil asked.

    "In plenty of ways," he replied, grinning slyly.

    The first mate had brought orders from the Captain for them to labor in the place of the two crewmen who had been removed to give them a compartment on the ship. Orephnil was flabbergasted when Covier told him that he had to cater food to the passengers of the Palinurus while Neriath was positioned as a hand on the riggings. He didn't understand this discrimination, and before he could put a voice to his doubt, the first mate was skittering away on his quick legs.

    In actuality, Orephnil had no say in this matter. Captain Flinn said that they might as well be of some service while they were on board, and so with rising bile and tightened face, begrudgingly, he pushed open the fourth door since the morning.

    "Here is your soup, miss..." he said as he seated down the tray on a table, ruminating the forgotten name, "...miss Ricley."

    "You may call me Tonsa," replied the woman.

    She was attired in an elegant, sky-blue Kurabi, her golden hair secured in a neat bun. A full-mooned spectacle before her tiny eyes was mounted on her tall nose as she reclined on the bed with a bulky book on her lap.

    "You're untrained and new." Her brown eyes traced the trailing drops of the liquid on the wooden floor.

    Orephnil cursed internally when he realized he'd have to get that cleaned up too. "I'm sorry for the mess."

    She waved the apology away like a fly and asked with piqued curiosity. "How did you end up on this ship?"

    He told her the same lie. Troubled lovers. Running away to save their skins. He said he was thankful to the captain for giving them accommodation, but he had not anticipated that he would have to work.