The Great War: Chapter 33
Astria's got talent
“Didn’t realize ye had some talent,” Lorn hums. Mathew leans a little harder on the ship’s railing and stares down at the water quietly, his stomach churning in shame.
The two stand at the side of the ship as the other crew members and Guardians bustle about behind them. Fort Etrerr is far in the distance behind them as they’re flanked by the smaller Guardian vessels, the small group making their way now to Solari.
Mathew can’t bring himself to look anywhere else than at the ocean, no matter how intense of a stare Lorn give him. His mind races with so many thoughts, so many questions, and if he does talk he’ll only be digging his own grave more than he already has.
This is the first time he’s felt dread like this before, a tight pit of unease and panic. He worked hard to pass the Guardian’s magic test just to get on this ship, all to throw it away only after a handful of cycles. Of course, that’s only if Lorn decides to snitch. The others didn’t seem to put two and two together as they were returning to the Island Destroyer, but Lorn was there.
“‘ay, talk to me, mate,” Lorn says, giving Mathew’s arm a light nudge.
Mathew grits his teeth. “What’s there to say?”
“It was a pretty impressive crystal there.”
Mathew just shakes his head, wanting to forget all about that. He used his magic and lost his sword all in one fell swoop. If he ever needs to defend himself in the future, he now has no blade to fall back on.
Stupid, he can’t help but call himself.
And that wizard, that prince. He was much more skilled than Mathew was, for sure, even without using his magic. How many fights has he been in already? What sort of training did he receive that Mathew did not?
“Aye, it’s not easy having talent,” Lorn hums, “but I rather not have ye thinkin’ that yer the only one with it.”
Mathew finally raises his head and looks at his friend with a confused scowl. Lorn gives him a confident smile and cups his hands together, holding them close to his chest as best he can. A series of small embers float from his palms as a tiny flame ignites between his fingers.
Mathew’s stare glues itself to the small flame in shock as Lorn lets out a laugh.
“I wasn’t completely sure if ye had any talent, so I kept my mouth shut,” he explains. He presses his hands together, extinguishing the flame, and when his hands part again a small flurry of grey ash falls down the side of the ship. “Don’t worry, mate. We don’t snitch on our own.”
“‘We’?” Mathew echoes.
“Aye. There’s always more,” Lorn replies with a wink.
The news doesn’t take Mathew by complete surprise; somewhere deep inside of him he knew he wasn’t the only one of his type on this ship. But actually finding those beings could have caused him all sorts of unnecessary trouble, and he found it better to simply keep to himself anyways.
“I feel sorry for yer sister,” Lorn continues with a small sigh. “She doesn’t seem do be doin’ right in their care.”
Mathew licks his lips uneasily as Anya’s distressed words rise in his mind, Mother… Ingum… The Guardians.
The heavy boots of the Guardians wandering the deck behind him grow ever louder in his ears, and his pit of unease sinks lower in his gut.
“Aye…” he mutters quietly, no real thought or meaning put into the word. He’s not used to seeing Anya so upset like that before. There’s only a handful of conclusions he can draw from her words, and he doesn’t like any of them.
“Got a lot on yer mind?” Lorn asks.
“Of course,” Mathew replies heavily.
“Then why don’t we go an’ get a bite to eat? Get yer mind off of it for the time being.”
At the mention of food, Mathew’s stomach growls just loud enough for him to hear it in his own ears. Food might do him some good. He doesn’t like worrying on an empty stomach.
Isaac pulls his legs closer inwards as he, Ezra, and Devin sit in front of the occupied cot where Anya rests. She’s still awake, as her mind churns with sickening thoughts, but faces away from the boys and silently listens to them converse.
“I hope he’s doing okay,” Ezra hums in reference to Samuel.
Devin nods once, sharp and quick. “Taking a walk on the deck might do him some good. But he really wants to get that speech ready for when we land.”
“I know he wants to get ahead of everything,” Isaac says, folding his arms, “but I think he should take a couple cycles to collect himself when we return. It’s always better to work with a clear head.”
Ezra fiddles with his fingers, turning them each into sand as they come into contact with each other. His unease is clear; after all, he’s never considered himself to be one for serious situations, at least in his thoughts.
“How is she doing?” Devin asks, nodding to the cot. Anya shifts ever so slightly under the blanket but remains silent.
Isaac shakes his head. “She just needs some rest, that’s all.”
He eyes the crew that mills about behind them, their thoughts noisy and jumbled and full of uneasy questions. Working on this ship has been hard, both on his body and his mind. More than once he’s gotten headaches from simply all the thoughts streaming into his head. And he can feel another one coming on, a slow, painful throbbing underneath his left ear.
“Are we heading right back to Korodon?” Isaac inquires.
“Yes, we are,” Devin confirms. “There’s much to be done, especially since now…” …now that Samuel is king.
While the two are silent, their minds stir. Ezra thinks of his own sister, and wonders how she and his parents might be doing in his absence. Maybe his mother braids Ishtar’s hair at first light now. He also misses his new castle bedroom, with its soft bed and warm sheets that help to remind him of the warmth of Mirage.
Devin, on the other hand, can’t get his mind off of the large Island Destroyer that they saw earlier. With it being such a large vessel, the Erima was able to leave it far behind in no time at all. But a ship with that sort of capability still worries him greatly. How could Korodon defend against something like that? Is this still a war they’re fighting, or has it become a conflict that they’re trying to survive?
Isaac takes two of his fingers and rubs them under his ear in an attempt to alleviate some of the growing pain. Every being is stressed, and it’s starting to wear on him, too. Many are fearful, especially the children now aboard, as they ask their parents pointless questions in an effort to try and ease their concerns. And the adults are troubled and worried, uneasy about their futures.
And Isaac sits here in the middle of it all, silently listening to them as they carry around ropes or snack on dried fruits in the candle lit depths of the Erima, sailing back to their bastion of magic.