Obscured by a dense cloud layer, the sparkling moon bade no light upon the black ship silently cutting through the waters below. Peter leaned over the railing of the Scarecrow, finding solace amidst the waves lapping against the hull. Torches affixed to posts across the deck and stained glass oil lamps peppered along the rail cast a dim glow over the modest caravel. Peter's thoughts wandered back to the marsh, Beruka's final words resurfacing.
They had spent that afternoon digging the graves for the men who had perished. Seven holes lined up, dug out by six survivors. Even Fi helped out dutifully, alongside the three remaining soldiers who knew just as well it could've been them.
They each said a few words, thanking Reg, remembering their comrades, and apologizing for not being able to save them. When it came Fi's turn, she turned to the grave that she had dug, "You took my death in exchange for your life. I promise not to waste it."
"Where will you go now?" Beruka later asked him, as they sat by the water's edge.
"Home. To Perona." Was his reply.
"Why not come with me? I'm sure King Aberon will reward you handsomely for your contribution. I sure could use a certified mage on my assignments and I'm not ready to say goodbye to Fi here, either." Fi was fast asleep, leaning against Beruka's shoulder.
"She'd love that. But I'm afraid we can't. There's somewhere we need to be."
"At least I tried then," Beruka sighed, idly parting the little girl's hair away from her face. Her eyes lingered on the silver chain, descending to the locket that rested against her chest. "My people crafted that locket, you know."
"You're from Mhyr?" Peter asked.
"Aye. Finest craftsmen in all the land, so they boast. I'm not so sure myself, but their silverwork is truly wondrous to behold. I would've liked to take her to see it." Beruka turned back to Peter, a stern look in her eyes, "You take care of her, Peter. Little Fi has a strong heart, but constant battles will take their toll."
"I can handle it." Fi's voiced piped up, without opening her eyes.
"Oh can you?" Beruka goaded, wrapping her arm around the sleepy girl.
"I'll miss you Ruka." She mumbled, nuzzling herself deeper into Beruka's arms.
"I'll miss you too." She said warmly, before turning back to Peter, "I take it you intend to travel back with Mathers."
"Aye. That was the point of all this." Peter replied.
"A word of caution then. You've known him longer than I; Mathers does not know forgiveness. You managed to survive once, by sheer cheek, but do not cross him again. You will not get a third chance."
Peter returned Beruka's grave look with a smile, "I wouldn't dream of it."
He extended his hand and she grasped it; the firm handshake sealing their goodbye.
An old woman, back hunched, with a shawl covering her head, stepped up to the railing beside Peter. The dim light illuminated the creased lines stretched across her face and the broad smile hidden within. She was one of many passengers aboard the Scarecrow. Some twenty odd people were huddled in groups on the small deck of the once deserted ship; families, with children and elders alike. Poor, desolate men and women fleeing their lives in Maridel in order to test their luck on the shores of Perona. In plain terms, they were all illegal refugees. They were the goods that Captain Mathers was so eager to smuggle onto his ship.
"Beautiful night to go sailing." The old woman said, breathing deep the salty sea air.
"I will never not enjoy the cool breeze of a summer's night at sea." Peter agreed.
"Now why would a strapping lad such as yourself need to flee Maridel? Surely hard times haven't come for one so young. Or are you another despicable fiend fleeing from the law?"
"Nothing of that sort, no." Peter chuckled, "I'm taking my friend back home is all." He pointed over his shoulder.
The woman looked to find a hooded girl sitting with the young kids on deck. She was leading them in a children's game of quick reactions. Around the circle they went, each attempting to slap the hand of the child on their left while also avoiding the incoming slap from their right. Several ripples ran through the circle as each child was eager to get a hit in. Fi was making quick work of her target, always striking with precision while also managing to dodge her attacker. The young boy beside Fi recoiled, his hand in pain, as the rest burst into fits of glee. He was on the verge of tears when Fi hopped up to change her place in the circle; to his relief and the dismay of her new partners.
"Such a lovely lass. So you're Peronans then?" She asked. At Peter's nod, she pressed, "What is it like?"
"You've never been?"
"I've spent my sixty-five years on this earth in my humble town of Lorent. Only twice did I travel to Kertan, once for my son's wedding, and again for my granddaughter's birth."
"Then why leave now?"
"The monsters, dear." The old woman's smile left her face, and her wrinkles creased with weariness, "They have become quite the nuisance, ravaging the towns and assaulting the roadways. And our king does nothing at all to help. It isn't safe there anymore."
"I'm afraid you won't find much comfort in Perona." Peter admitted.
"What makes you say that dear? They say Perona has built up quite the civilization and her queen does not stand for such abominations roaming the lands." She had apparently done her research.
"Aye that's true. But Perona is home to the monsters hidden within men, and I'm afraid those are far more terrifying." Peter warned, "If you are expecting a warm welcome, you'd have better luck in Bartaille."
"Ha! You jest." The old lady tittered, "I'm afraid my bones are too old to ever step foot in that frigid wasteland, not that I would ever want to, besides."
Peter's tone turned serious, "I'd avoid the capital, then. It's no place to start a life. Stick to the border towns along the seaboard and keep to yourselves when possible. Newcomers are easy to take advantage of."
"Ours has always been a family of survivors." The old woman turned, and Peter followed her gaze to a husband and wife fast asleep with a baby girl nestled between them. "No matter where we end up, we'll manage." She bowed her head to leave, "It was nice chatting with you, son."
"May the Queen look kindly upon your soul." Peter called. The words left his mouth before he even realized what he had said. He hadn't heard the phrase in years, least not from his own lips. The old woman regarded him with a quizzical look, but smiled warmly, taking the blessing with her.
Peter returned to his vigil. The waves were just as black as before, the faint light of the lamps unable to paint them their true colour. The old woman's voice could be heard talking to her son, "Bartaille! Honestly."
Peter shook his head. In all honesty, Bartaille was probably the safest of the three continents: the civilized world of Perona to the east, the verdant fields of Maridel to the west, and the glacial bastion of Bartaille in the north. Each belonged to their own kingdom, each with their own sovereign to preside over their people.
The three landmasses were connected by a series of seas. Much like waterways, only on a grander scale, the three seas divided the three kingdoms, leading outward to the impassable oceans, and converging inward into Lake Nucleo at the center of the world. It was here, on a small island, at the heart of the lake, where the world council was established. A governing body comprised of representatives from every kingdom, their role was to pass universal law over all the kingdoms in order to prolong unstable times of peace. It was a shame no one paid them any attention.
Fi said goodnight to the children as their mothers ushered them over to sleep. She made her way towards Peter, joining him in his silent contemplation. This lasted for all of a minute.
"I'm bored," She moaned, idly fidgeting with the lace of her tunic.
"So go to sleep," Peter said.
"Not tired. Plus, you're the one who said to stay alert."
"Does that include playing games with children?"
"I was checking if they might be enemies."
"I'm sure." Peter twisted around, leaning his back against the railing, "Okay then. Let's play our own game."
"Sweet!" Fi cheered, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Scouting practice." He explained, "First to count everyone on the ship wins."
"You don't stand a chance." She ribbed.
"We'll see. Eyes only, no cheating" He put his hand on her head, pressing her hood down to smush her ears.
"Yeah yeah," Fi agreed, shaking him off, "you ready?"
"Ready."
The two scanned the deck, mentally ticking off each member on board. Peter adjusted for the crew working down below and of course, Captain Mathers himself. Arriving at twenty-four, he was about to announce his victory, before he caught himself. He had almost forgotten the two of them.
"Twenty-six!" He cried, a little too excitedly.
"Twenty-five!" Fi shouted back, only a moment behind, upsetting a sleeping couple a few feet away.
The two looked at each other bemused.
"Who did you miss?"
"Who did you add?"
"There's eighteen refugees on deck, five crewman sleeping below, Captain Mathers wherever he is," Peter counted, "And the two of us, of course."
"We don't count" Fi argued.
"Sure we do, we're on the ship aren't we."
Fi glared, irritated. "Fine then, we count. But that makes it twenty-seven. You missed the man sleeping up on-"
"What's with all the ruckus aboard my ship." Captain Mathers had snuck up on their argument, his ample belly arriving before he did. Wielding an empty glass bottle, he ambled forward clinging to Peter for support, whiskey thick on his breath. "Brings yeh back, don't it"
"I had forgotten why I even left... until you showed up." Peter said dryly, slinking Mathers off his shoulder.
"Don't be like that boy." Mathers hiccupped, unable to stand straight, "Let's put broken bridges behind us. Come join me for a nightcap."
"I'm good, thanks." Peter replied.
"Bah! So it be like that, eh? Cutting the tie from my neck. No closer to me than these freeloaders adorning my deck."
"I'm sure you took more than your fair share to let them aboard."
"As is my right." Mathers took a swig from his bottle, cursing angrily when nothing touched his lips.
Fi scrunched her nose. She did not like the man. He reeked of booze when not of sweat. Mathers was rude, belligerent, and mean. Worse still, he held all the power here, aboard his own ship. The refugees who had been annoyed at Peter's initial outburst had now given them a wide berth, afraid of catching the captain's attention.
"Come now Pete," Mathers persisted, tossing his bottle over the rails, "I don't want to cause a scene. We can settle this like gentlemen if you'd be so kind as to join me in my cabin."
Peter's eyes narrowed, "What are you on about?"
"You took something from me boy, and I want it back." Mathers face was a deep pink, matching his pudgy fingers. Fi, in contrast, turned paper white.
"I took nothing from you Mathers." Peter stated coolly. "You can ask again in the morning, and I'll tell you the same once you've sobered up."
Fi watched as four men ascended the steps from the crew's quarters. Watched, as they noiselessly approached, snuffing out torches on their way. Watched, as the shadows at her feet grew taller and taller.
"I find myself disheartened that it must come to this." Mathers sighed, throwing his full wait against the railing. "Take them." He commanded, before violently hurling into the sea.
Fi's warning was trapped behind the gloved hand now covering her mouth. The fifth sailor had waited until the lights were out before ascending and immediately targeted the small girl. Forced to the floor, Fi struggled in vain against the thick forearms of the man pressing his weight against her. Peter was no match for the rest. A few gut punches were enough to bring him to his knees, held up from behind in a headlock.
The refugees shrank back from the scene into the darkness. The muffled cries of children could be heard as worried parents tried in vain to calm them. Mathers lifted his head back, satisfied with the outcome that greeted him.
"Search 'em, bind 'em, hang 'em up. You know the drill." Mathers watched as his men patted down the two captives. One man pulled at Fi's locket, the chain cutting into her neck. But the back of Mathers' meaty hand found the side of his face, "We're not thieving them you cur. I only want what is mine."
Peter recovered from his initial shock to the feel of multiple hands deep within the lining of his cloak. Between raspy breaths, he welled liquid into his palms.
"We'll have none of your wizard tricks tonight, boy." Mathers chuckled.
Immediately, two soldiers grabbed Peter's wrists and forced them into a bucket they had prepared. Peter shuddered as his hands were submerged in a cool, jelly-like paste. Pulling them out, he found they were coated in a viscous blue gel from wrists to fingertips.
Mathers bent down to whisper in his ear, his voice moist on Peter's cheek, "Can't form bubbles, if you can't touch air."
Peter paled. He had been a member of Captain Mathers' crew for several months. He had displayed his abilities on countless occasions. Of course Mathers had devised a countermeasure.
"They don't have them sir." A sailor reported to the captain.
"String them up!" Mathers growled angrily.
The men dragged Peter and Fi to the centre of the ship. The onlookers pressed back to the rails, forming a wide circle around the spectacle. One sailor took a thick rope and bound the two friends together, wrapping them up round and round, as another threw the end of the rope over a wooden beam extending from the mast. Together, they pulled the rope taught and raised Peter and Fi two feet above the ground. The rest went about reigniting the torches, bathing the stage in light for the stunned crowd to watch. There they swung, slowly revolving back and forth as if waiting to be cracked open.
"You DARE steal from my private drawers and then have the audacity to smuggle my property back on my own ship!" Mathers roared, his face contorted in rage. His cheeks had bypassed red altogether and settled on a blotched purple.
"Mathers listen. It wasn't me." Peter weighed his words carefully, turning his head to keep Mathers in view as he swung around, "Why would I steal from you? You and I both know I'm smarter than that. I don't have a death wish."
But Mathers wasn't listening, "Credit where it's due Pete. Staging an elaborate meeting, appeasing me with your shoddy baubles, and then having your accomplice sneak in and take the true prize from right over my mouth."
"I'd be long gone if that were the case! You honestly think I'm stupid enough to come right back to this ship?" Peter's pleas grew more desperate, "That smoke screen was just a prank pulled by a couple street kids. You personally saw to it that they learned their lesson. We had nothing to do with it!" At this, the image of Fi sitting in the circle with the refugee children flashed through his mind. Letting his head fall back, as if pleading to God Himself, he whispered, "We didn't have anything to do with it, right?"
Fi didn't respond. He could feel her squirming against his back, her fingers scraping at fibres in a frenzied attempt to break through the rope. Peter sighed, taking her silence as an admission of guilt, and returned his attention to Mathers and his, apparently justified, witch hunt.
"How much did Queenie offer yeh? Was she the one who told you where to find them?" Mathers' eyes washed over Peter, glazed and unfocused. Peter returned his stare, but made no attempt to say more. "Fine. This is clearly going nowhere. Start with the girl."
Two crewmen steadied the swinging bundle, their attention focused on Fi. Peter's renewed protests fell on deaf ears as Fi's struggling intensified, spasming in her coils. She shook violently, her jostling sending tremors up the mast. The sailors stepped back warily, unsure how to restrain her, looking to their captain for guidance.
Mathers was not perturbed. With two steps, he closed his ground and struck Fi across the face. Peter braced himself as the two swung wildly from the force of the blow, teeth gritted, eyes burning at his helplessness. Desperately he tried to remove the gel from his hands, but they were stuck tight behind his back. Fi's flailing had stopped. Her hood was knocked clean off, head hanging low, blood bubbling at her lip. As their swaying steadied, her long ears drooped down against her black hair, for all the world to see.
The glaze over Mathers' eyes seemed to lift. He grabbed Fi's chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up to study her face. Her blood flowed down his thumb, collecting in his palm. His eyes took no notice, travelling from her swollen lip, past her small button nose, and up over her forehead. Finally resting on the two long ears atop her head, he was entranced by their delicate curve and soft pink interior. A devilish smile carved itself into his jaw as his eyes returned to meet Fi's. If he couldn't take back what was lost, at least he could take his revenge. The brilliant blue pierced him with defiance, but Mathers' grin only widened at her tenacity. The third act of his show was about to commence.
"It seems I'm not the only one smuggling illegals into the kingdom, eh Pete?" He shouted for the crowd to hear.
The clanging gears jarred to a halt as it dawned on Peter what he was doing. His mind spluttered uselessly as if the cogs themselves were suspended in gel. This time, he had no plan.
"Please. Don't." Was all he could think to say.
"A chimera, boy?" Mathers asked, his voice rising in mock incredulity, "Petty theft is one thing, but this is treason of the highest order. Endangering the lives of my crew, my passengers, and if you had succeeded, the lives of every man, woman, and child in Perona!"
He spread his arms wide, enjoying the show. Peter raised his head to look past the man. Up to this point, the refugees were terrified of what the captain might do, but the tone had shifted. Now directed at them, the look of fear remained, but it was accompanied by scorn and hatred. Where silence had left, distressed muttering now took its place. Peter found the old lady, clutching her granddaughter in her arms, pity etched across her face.
"This is bullshit!" Peter spat, "She's not a threat to anyone."
"Oh?" Mathers raised a finger and edged it towards Fi's face. The little girl snapped, bringing her teeth down with a sharp clack, just as Mathers pulled his hand away, exploding in glee. "You see? The beast within bears its fangs!"
"Well this straightens things forward considerably." Mathers leaned in so only Peter could hear, "You see Pete. I believe you; you're too smart to steal from me. But fact of the matter is, I was stolen from, and that pisses me the fuck off. If I keep this bottled up I'm liable to explode and that wouldn't be healthy for anyone.
"So I find myself standing here with my roads crossed. I could let you walk and lose face yet again at your hands, swallowing my own anger." Peter unwillingly felt a glimmer of hope well up inside him, but it was dashed immediately by the sinister glint in Mathers' eye as he raised his voice. "But no one will fault me for slaying a filthy chimera and her deranged handler. Yes, her majesty may even reward me. And after all, the healthiest option is to allow my fury to burn."
Mathers ripped a torch from its post and waved it high; a speck of light, burning bright in the middle of the sea. The refugees could not shrink further back. The drunken captain was about to burn the man and child alive and they had front row seats. Men stiffened as mothers averted their eyes, shielding their children from the sight of what was to come. The old woman stood motionless, a witness to their final moments. None said a word.
Mathers' voice boomed for all to hear. "Let this be a lesson to those who dare consider crossing me!" And he put the flame to Peter's feet.
"And what lesson would that be?" A disembodied voice rang across the ship. Mathers froze where he stood as everyone else lifted their heads, searching for the speaker. "Could it be that despite your massive girth, the obese Captain Mathers is still able to jump to conclusions?"
Peter felt a strong tug as the heavy rope constricted around him, as if something was weighing them down. Suddenly, a great mass descended from on high, sliding down the rope at an alarming rate. Stopping, just above him, his fine leather boots grazing Peter's head, a man hopped down from the rope, landing on the deck, taking his place at center stage.
"Stay out of this! I've had enough of you already!" Mathers' voice fought to hold steady. Beads of sweat formed down his neck and his torch arm wavered at the arrival of this uninvited guest.
"And I, you." The man said, a wry smirk spread over his handsome face, "First you promise me passage, but you haven't got a crew. Then I get you your men and you delay the voyage a full week to fill it with this rabble. Now you rouse my slumber, drunkenly wailing at the top of your lungs, with this abhorrent performance." He indicated toward Peter and Fi, hanging perplexed, yet relieved they were not currently aflame. "And did I hear you correctly, captain? You don't have the transcripts to present to the Queen?"
The man stood several inches lower than Captain Mathers but it was clear which way the intimidation flowed. His clothing was pristine; expertly tailored to his slender physique. His black trousers tapered down into his chestnut leather boots. He wore a cherry red dress shirt; his sleeves neatly rolled up past his elbows revealing a second set of sleeves intricately carved into his flesh. Peter stared transfixed at the symbol emblazoned in black on the back of his shirt. A gust elephant's head, ears flourished, with a beating heart held in its trunk; the sigil of the Queen.
"It was stolen, Jack." Mathers grumbled, "If you had just taken it in Kertan when I first showed it to you, then-"
"The onus is yours alone." Jack cut him off, "The Queen merely throws the bone. She cares not which rabid dog fetches it back."
Mathers' eyes bulged. "YOU! You had them stolen from me!"
"I did no such thing." Jack stated simply, leaving Mathers confounded, "But you are a fool if you thought you were the only mutt sent out on the hunt. It seems someone's taken you for a ride Mathers, like the bitch that you are."
The crowd stood in awe at this new development. Not one of them knew who this man was, yet they were nonetheless impressed by his speech and appearance. Fi hung satisfied, a grin forming behind her swollen lip; at last, someone who didn't cower in fear of the captain. Peter, on the other hand, was just trying to figure out who in the hell he was.
"I'm not the one on the leash." Mathers muttered, his command of the stage shattering before him.
"Perhaps, but it is the longest leash." Jack conceited, "And while I return home to feast, you only fight for scraps in the gutter."
It hit Peter then. This was the Jack; every man in Perona had heard his name. The Queen's first counsel, trusted above all. Granted power supreme and let loose to do whatever he willed in her interest. To encounter such a man, here, on a smugglers ship in the dead of night was quite peculiar. Yet, in all the world, there probably was none more peculiar than Honest Jack; the man who told no lies.
"Let's end this farce captain." Jack said, "I'll inform you here, although you are well aware, that entering the country without a gift for the Queen would not be... how did you put it? The healthiest option. But worry not, Jack is here to take care of you. In lieu of the transcripts, I shall take the bubble mage and his companion and we can put this whole matter to rest."
Mathers' eyes turned cold. The boiling blood had long since drained from his face, leaving his skin patchy and pale. He stood dumb, his hands hanging stupidly by his side, the torch creating a large, yet indiscernible, burn on the black wood deck.
"Come, come." Jack clapped his hands twice, "Be a good boy and bark your orders. Command your men to drop your offering down so I don't have to embarrass you further and order them myself."
Teeth clenched, Mathers gave a gruff nod. The sailors scrambled quickly, untying the knot and slowly lowered Peter and Fi to the ground. A man anxiously released the two, careful not to catch their eye. Mathers could only stare as the ropes fell to the ground around Peter. They traded looks of contempt, before Mathers stormed off into his cabin. He slammed the door shut behind him, sending a sickening tremor through the heart of his ship.
"Show's over folks. You can all go back to sleep." Jack waved cheerily at the refugees, "And do not be concerned. You will all be welcome in Perona. You have my word."
Peter wiped the gel from his hands onto the deck before getting up. Brushing off the rest on his pants, he turned to Fi to inspect her lip. She pushed him away, insisting she was fine when Jack stepped forward to greet them.
"Let's get this straight right off the bat. We are not coming with you to the Queen." Peter said.
"Is that the thanks I get for saving your lives?" Jack asked innocently.
"You took your sweet time!" Fi scolded, taking Jack by surprise, "I woke you up ages ago, and you only fell down at the last moment."
Peter looked at her in disbelief, but Jack only smiled, "Well I had to find out what was going on first, didn't I? It's not like I could fall back to sleep what with your furious shaking and the captain's incessant rambling."
Peter took in the man's disarming face. Clean-cut brown hair matched his hazel eyes. He was shorter than Peter, but must have been a couple years older. His pure expression did nothing to reveal his intentions, but Peter was well aware of the implications surrounding their release.
"How did you know who I was?" Peter asked.
"It is my business to know, Mr. Prescott." He answered, "I keep tabs on every certified mage in Perona."
Peter winced; he did not like the use of his surname.
Turning his attention back to Fi, Jack continued, "You, however, seem to have slipped under my notice. My name is Jack. Pleasure to meet you."
"Fi." She said, shaking his hand.
"You're quite remarkable Fi. I look forward to getting to know you more." He finally turned to Peter, "As for your claim, you are free to go as you please, I will not stop you. However, this is officially a formal invitation from the Queen, and I'll have to let her know you've declined."
The threat was pleasant and plain. Peter glared at him. Although the Queen sat rooted to her royal throne, her voice travelled anywhere he pleased.
"We already said no." Fi said abruptly.
"Come now. You've never been to the capital before have you?" Jack asked, "Don't you want to visit the place where Peter grew up?"
Fi shot an astonished look to Peter who avoided her eye. Jack saw his opening and pounced.
"Her majesty only requires a brief audience and then you can be on your way. Back to whatever quest the academy has left you."
"Is it on the way?" Fi asked Peter.
"Technically, yes." He responded, reluctantly.
"And it won't take long?" She turned to Jack.
"Not even a day." Jack nodded.
"Fine, we can go." Fi decided.
Peter shook his head. As mature as she seemed, there was no denying her naivety. At least it was nice of him to give her the illusion of choice, he thought.
"Wonderful. The Queen will be delighted to meet her humble servants." He cheered, and turned to leave, making his way towards a group of refugees.
"I don't belong to the Queen." Peter shouted after him.
Jack chuckled, waving a hand in the air behind him, "Everyone belongs to the Queen."
Peter sighed in frustration and went back to lean against the railing. The waves had picked up, their blue finally revealed as the sun peeked its head above the horizon. The faint line of Perona's coast could be seen in the far distance.
"Did you plan for Jack to save us?" He asked Fi, not taking his eyes off the coast.
Fi slumped against the rails beside him, "Not really, no. But I knew he was up there and figured I might as well get him involved. It's not like you were doing anything."
Peter grunted.
"Oh and by the way," she added, a broad grin stretching across her face, "I won your game."
"Eventful night for you two." The old woman had crept up from behind to join them. "I'm pleased you made it through to share the sunrise with me."
"Devil after devil bars my path at every step." Peter lamented.
"Terrifying men your nation breeds." She conceded.
"Welcome to Perona." He grumbled, "You'll miss yourold monsters in no time."
Thanks for Reading!
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